#am i suddenly years later making an old thread into a book possibly

[littleladylecter-a]

not me missing my old threads on here.

[raineydays411]

Mission In Progress

Steve Rogers x daughter!reader

Summary: Steve realizes that his past behavior may have cost him the love of his daughter.

A/n: Hello! This is the second part to my Steve Rogers series! I hope you like it and also I hope y’all get the little references I put in these lol💕

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean Natasha taught you?”

Oh shit.

That was the collective thought between you, Nat, Clint, and Tony. It was well known among the team that Steve didn’t want his daughter learning ANY form of self defense, but those four thought that was ridiculous. She was Captain America's daughter, she definitely would need to fight off an enemy sooner or later.

“well...nat taught me the basics on how to defend myself, she said it would come in handy someday.�� You say quietly, picking the thread on your sleeve rather than looking at your father.

“Romanoff, you taught her how to fight?” Steve said, fury bleeding into his eyes. “I made it perfectly clear--”

“Steve, its unreasonable for her not to know how to fight, she's the daughter of one of the worlds greatest defenders. If she doesn’t fight, she’s dead.”, Natasha said bluntly, staring Steve in the face as the other Avengers grew uncomfortable.

“She’s perfectly fine, it’s not like she leaves the Tower anyway.”

“Because if she did, you’d have someone follow her. It’s creepy, man”  Tony butts in with a roll of his eyes. By now both Bruce and Thor had silently left the room, as both of them would be useless in this conversation.

“Oh, so Tony Stark is gonna teach me how to raise a kid? Isn’t that ironic.”

“It’s not like you’re doing any better on your own. All Y/n does is stay in her room and write in that book of hers, she doesn’t even talk to people her own age.”

“It’s safer that way and you all know it” Steve snaps, refusing to even look your way. “ I set those rules for a reason, and I don’t appreciate my team mate or friends going behind my back and breaking them.”

“Look, Steve we love you, but the way you’re going about this whole parenting situation is completely wrong.” Clint finally says. “ I get that you were thrusted into this role, we all do. But man, you can protect Y/n from everything and it’s not healthy for her to be locked away in the tower like--”

“Like some modern day Rapunzel” 

“Thank you, Tony.”

“You all know the reason why she’s not allowed to leave. Its just safer that way.” Steve says, expecting the conversation to be over. “ Now, we’ll talk about this when we get back to --”

“You don’t lock me away for my protection” You say looking up with a determined face. Steve, obviously stunned you called him out like that turned to you and said

“ Excuse me?” 

“ It was never about me. If you wanted me to be safe, you would have taught me how to defend myself as soon as you could. You would have told the world about me, just to make sure everyone knows not to mess with me.” You say, your brow furrowed. “ You say its for safety, but who’s safety is it really for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve says in a low, slow tone. 

“Everytime I come in a room, you tense up like I’m going to attack you.” You start to say, realizing that once you reveal what you noticed, things will never be the same. “ You monitor everything I do. You never allow me to be alone. You don’t talk to be about missions and don’t allow anyone else to.” You stand up off the couch. “ You refuse to acknowledge my mother, and won’t even let read the journal she left me.”

“That’s enough Y/n”

“No!” You shout. “ It’s not fair I don’t understand why you treat me like this.” Steve looks at you in surprise. 

“ Y/n, you don’t understand.”

“ I do. You don’t trust me.” You finally say. “ You haven’t from day one, and I don’t know why. It's not like a six year old is a Hydra agent by disguise.” 

Hearing this Steve freezes. He knows that all this surveillance was unnecessary. And deep down he knew that you could never hurt not even a fly. but that tiny voice in his head got the best of him. And even though he grew to love you more than he’d like to admit, the thought of you being am enemy scared him. 

“ You are a threat.” Steve says stubbornly. “ You came out of nowhere, with nothing but a note in the middle of the night. Your mother is nowhere to be found, and I have no idea who to even look for. You look nothing like me and defiantly don’t act like me.” 

Hearing these words is like a knife being repeatedly stabbed in your heart. It’s one thing to think that your dad doesn’t love you, it's another to hear them directly from his mouth. 

“ I have done nothing for you to treat me like this. I have done nothing to lose your trust. I didn’t ask for my mother to leave me here with you. It’s not my fault.” You say, tears starting to well up in your eyes. “ That robot asked me to go with him you know?”

The whole room freezes. You never mentioned that when Clint picked you up from the Tower.

“ He asked me to go with him, because he said I had no one. I had nothing to loose. And now” You let tears run down your face. “ Now that I know he’s right, I still wouldn’t go with him. Because I would NEVER want someone to get hurt because of me.” And with that you pushed past the group of superheros and ran outside. You didn’t know where you were going, but you had to get out of that house.

You walk into town and into a bookshop that was surprisingly open at this hour. The clerk looked at you in annoyance as you wandered the isles quietly. Picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet, you walk toward the counter to pay.

“Tch, Romeo and Juliet?” The cashier says

“What about it?” you ask, puzzled that he cared enough to mention it. 

“Nothing if you’re thirteen and never had a boyfriend.”

“Oh really?” You say, eyes lighting up at the chance to talk to someone your own age without the gaze of an agent boring into your back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, there was a tense silence in the house. Steve left with the words you told him rattling in his brain. 

“You know, Y/n always used to come to me for help picking out the perfect father's day gift for you.” Clint said breaking the silence in the room. “ She insisted we wake up hours before you to go to the shops just to surprise you. She loved wrapping the gift and the thought of making you happy.” He smiled bitterly. “ I loved every second of it, watching her reminded me of my own family. It broke my heart to see her little face deflate when you barely acknowledged the gift and treated it like it was a bomb or something.” He shakes his head and walks out. Natasha follows him and says ‘ Its late, it's not safe for her to be out there alone, I’m going to look for her.”. Then she’s gone. Leaving only Tony and Steve in the living room. It’s quiet for a few minutes. They can hear Clint playing with his children, Lila laughing as Cooper and Clint chase her. 

“ You know, all my life I had to wonder if my dad loved me too.” Tony said suddenly. “ I guess that’s why I got along with Y/n so well.”

Steve sat on the couch and sighed. “ I guess I could’ve approached this differently.”

“That's your problem Rogers, you treat her like a mission. She’s a kid. Even I know that you can’t raise a kid that way.”

Steve exhaled through his nose. “So, what do you think I should do?”  

Tony rolled his eyes again.” Well for one, you can go look for your fourteen year old daughter who ran out in the middle of the night in an area she doesn’t know.”

Steve's eyes widened and he shot up, “ Shit, I- I have to go find her.” and with that he ran out of the living room, leaving Tony alone as he heard him shout 

“Language!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long for Steve to get into town. The only problem he really faced was figuring out where you might be. Almost everything was closed except for a liquor store and some bars. He started to panic, as he started to think about the possibility of you being hurt or kidnapped or--

“Hey bomb pop, over here” someone whispers

Steve looks around to see Natasha standing in front of a bookshop. He jogs up to her and asks

“Nat what are you--” “SHHH, look” she points into the window.

At first Steve didn’t know what he was looking at. All he saw was two kids flirting on some bean bags. But then he looked closer and realized that was his kid flirting on some bean bags. He got ready to burst in there and drag her out, which surprised him.

“What are you doing” Natasha harshly whispered, “This is the first time in years y/n has talked to someone her age, and I will NOT let you ruin it.”

“But does it have to be a boy” Steve whines, then he shrinks back as Nat glares at him. 

“You have no right to play protective daddy right now, you--”

“Dad? Nat? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been about an hour since you started talking to Levi, the cashier. Even though he insulted your book choice

“It’s a play about two bratty kids who think they’re in love and then kill themselves, its pathetic”

He’s interesting. He has this harsh exterior that is refreshing to you. You liked that he didn’t handle you with kids gloves like the rest of the Avengers did. He let you stay behind after closing as long as you helped him clean, but you didn’t last long because apparently you “cleaned like a blind person with no hands” whatever that means. After cleaning you two sat and talked about music and his friends. It was nice. That was until you felt eyes on you.

Looking out the window you noticed two figures staring at you. One petite red head and a tall blonde to be more specific. Rolling your eyes, you say goodbye to Levi and thank him for one of the best nights you’ve had in a while. As you left he did something that surprised you.

“Hey brat, here’s my number.” He says as he gives you an old receipt, “ Don’t expect me to text you all night, I have a life too.” 

You just smile and say thank you, blushing as you realize this was your first friend in years. You put the number in your pocket and walk outside. 

“Dad? Nat?” You ask, cutting their little squabbling short. “What are you two doing here?” 

Nat and Steve stand up straight. 

“It was getting late and I was worried so I came to find you” Natasha said, “ But it seems to me that you were quite alright in there” She finishes with a smirk. You blush as you try to think of a retort. Before you say anything, you hear your dad clear his throat. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t getting intel on how to kill you or whatever you think what will happen if i make friends.” You again push past the two avengers, your good mood spoiled as you walk away. You hear some harsh whispering then your name is called. 

“Y/n” your father calls, “I think we need to talk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @angeldreineedshelp @night-thinqer @ilyimagines @vxidsti1es @big-galaxy-chaos

[voiceless-terror]

all those sleep prompts are so killer and such big jon vibes!!! i would love to read anything on "- a character who refuses to share a sleeping space with anyone else, and it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb others/doesn’t want pity/is ashamed of his nightmares" with jon. bonus points if tim is involved and extra bonus points if tim also has experience with insomnia/nightmares, either himself or used to taking care of someone in his life with those issues...

Hey there! Here I am, finally writing the promised Jon/Tim that I should have written ages ago. Feels good to be on this train! I’ve placed this in pre-canon, when Jon and Tim are researchers and have just started dating. Hope you like!

“That was...really nice, Tim. Thank you.”

“Thank you? Jon, we split the check,” Tim throws an arm around his shoulder and it’s heavy and warm in all the right ways. “You know my policy on that. The person who asks you out pays the bill! Ergo, me.”

“I know, I know,” Jon relents under the pressure and burrows into Tim’s side. The wine’s gone to his head, he’s sure of it. Shouldn’t have had those three glasses. But the waiter was so attentive and Tim’s smile was infectious so he couldn’t help but say yes, of course, thank you, to every pour. “I just...I really enjoyed myself, is all.”

“I did too,” Tim’s voice goes to that soft, fond register he’s only just started using with Jon. Before it had been all gregarious charm, winks and nudges that he used interchangeably with friends and acquaintances alike. When Tim first asked him out, Jon thought he was joking; he rolled his eyes and went back to work, ignoring Tim’s look of hurt. Jon was used to practical jokes of this nature- he’s not exactly an attractive prospective partner, and several people have implied he was more trouble than he was worth. But a week later, on their usual coffee run, Tim offered to buy him dinner, his voice serious and shy and utterly unlike him. The look in his eyes was genuine and Jon had to say yes; who could refuse him, in the face of such sincerity?

It’s been a month and they’ve fallen into a sort of routine. Every week is a new spot- Tim’s a bit of a foodie, and he overheard him making a list of places with Sasha. It took up an entire page in his notebook, and Jon wonders if Tim will get sick of him before they finish it.

He stumbles on the sidewalk and Tim catches him with a steady hand on his waist. The cold air should be bracing but it is not; his dizziness increases two times over and it’s a long journey home. Tim knows this, which must lead to his next suggestion.

“You can spend the night at mine,” he says, voice purposefully light. Jon freezes. They hadn’t broached the topic yet, but he thinks Tim has some sort of idea. Rumors abound in research, after all. Tim must notice his nervousness because he stops walking, turning to face Jon with that same unbearable sincerity. 

“Nothing untoward, I promise,” Tim says, and Jon believes him. Tim hasn’t lied to him yet. “I just don’t feel comfortable putting you on the tube, and you’re a long way from home while I’m right around the corner.” Jon still doesn’t respond, so Tim continues. “No pressure, honestly. I could call you a cab, it’s not a big deal-”

“No, that’s-that’s too expensive.” Living in London is hard enough, especially on a researcher’s salary. But to spend the night at Tim’s, as innocent as it may be, fills him with dread. There’s a reason he lives alone. There’s a reason it took him almost a year before he stayed the night at Georgie’s.

Sleep has never been kind to him.

Jon has nightmares. Terrible, horrifying visions of make-believe that leave him screaming and crying and choking on his breath. Georgie had been about ready to call an ambulance the first time she witnessed it, but Jon was able to talk her down.

“These happen every night?” she’d asked, her face a mix of pity and concern. 

“Not every night,” he insisted. It was true. If he stayed up late, working himself to exhaustion, he could usually manage a dreamless sleep of at least five hours. But that came with its own difficulties; crankiness, irritability. It put a strain on most of his relationships. 

Tim, though- Tim is kind and understanding. Beneath the mask of sociability and flirtation lies a serious, determined person. Compassionate, loving, but in a quiet way and with small gestures. He makes lists. He puts in time. He asks Jon what he wants when they go out to eat and he doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes when Jon carries on for too long. 

“We can go to your place,” he whispers. “I-I think I’d like that.” Tim smiles and hooks an arm through his and Jon knows he’s made the right decision. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe the wine will dull the terror that rules most of his life. The night is dark and Jon’s flat is cold and lonely. 

Tim’s flat, on the other hand, is warm and cozy. It’s neat and organized, but cluttered enough to give it personality and charm. There’s a couch calling his name and he answers it, practically collapsing in the cushions as Tim lets out a little laugh.

“No going to sleep yet,” he instructs and Jon can’t help but let out a groan. The warmth and safety of the spot and the closeness of Tim has suddenly made him comfortably tired, and he’d like to slip off to sleep in this pleasant haze. “Not until you’ve had some food and water. I’ve even got those crusty little granola bars you like so much.”

“They’re not crusty,” he grumbles, his voice stifled by a pillow. But he’s not in a fighting mood and his mind’s currently swimming with the fact that Tim stocked his favorite snack. 

“Very crusty, indeed,” Tim’s nudging him up into a sitting position and forcing water into his hands. “Drink up!”

“You’re very irritating, I hope you know,” Jon says as he leans his head onto Tim’s shoulder. Tim makes for a comfortable pillow. 

“Aw, you love it.” 

Maybe he does.

By the time he’s choked down the last of the bar, his eyes are fluttering and he can’t keep in his yawns. Tim puts a warm hand on his arm and it burns pleasantly as he pulls him up. “Time for bed, I think.”

The words startle Jon out of his haze and he blinks his eyes open, focusing on Tim’s gentle smile. “Er, I think-” he doesn’t want to disappoint the man, but he would rather be as cautious as possible. “I think it would be best if I slept out here.”

“On the couch?” Tim asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh- would you rather sleep alone?” Tim doesn’t seem too miffed about it, just confused, so Jon answers as honestly as he can.

“Yes.” He doesn’t want to, not really. But he needs to.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily enough. “But you should take the bed, then. The sofa’s comfy but I know you have a bad back-”

“It’s fine for one night,” Jon responds. Forcing Tim to sleep on the sofa in his own flat seems terribly selfish.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Jon assures, trying to convey his affection in a gentle smile. Tim returns it.

“I’ll just get you some sheets, then. Change of clothes, too.”

By the time Jon’s head hits the pillow, comfortably attired in Tim’s old joggers and t-shirt, he’s already half asleep. He thinks Tim’s already left the room but then he feels the warm pressure of a kiss to his forehead.

Perhaps he dreamed that, though.

__________

There’s a thread and it’s pulling Jon forward.

It’s not comfortable. Jon would rather stay here, in the library, surrounded by books and dim lights and knowledge he has control over. But there are whispers in the hallway, and someone’s telling him to go, go, go. 

And go he does. Down stairs, so many stairs, more stairs than the institute ought to have. There is something watching and something pulling; Jon is being split in two and somehow this is worse than actually seeing the spiders and the eyes that have haunted him all these years. This, he feels in his soul. Something is at stake.

There’s a door. This is how it always ends, you see- with a door. And Jon’s fist, small and childish and grubby, raises to knock against the wood. It echoes too many times as Jon tries to step back, get off this porch and out of this nightmare but it is too late, the deed is done and the door is opening and a single, spindly black leg creeps out of the door hello, Mr. Spider-

“Jon!”

There are limbs holding him but it’s not the many-legged creature of his nightmares- they’re familiar and strong even as he thrashes against them but someone is screaming and the sound is haunting and painful-

And it’s him. Jon wrenches his eyes open to find himself safe and sound, held in place by Tim’s arms. His heart continues to stutter and he wheezes- Tim’s got a hand on his back and a soothing murmur going.

“You’ve got to breathe, Jon. Slow.” Tim takes his shaking hand and puts it to his own chest. “Like this. In and out. There you go. Nice and slow.” The words are calm and practiced; Tim’s done this before, with someone else. As his heartbeat resumes a normal rhythm, he wonders who. 

There’s a hand on Jon’s face, gently wiping away tears he wasn’t aware he shed. Tim’s eyes are far-away, sort of, like he’s just going through the motions, slow and loving. “There we are,” he says as he finally meets Jon’s eyes. “Better now?”

“Y-Yes,” he croaks back. His hand is still gripping at Tim’s shirt but he doesn’t let go until the reality of the situation sets in. “Oh God- I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“Is that why you slept out here?” Tim asks, his voice patient. “Does this happen a lot?”

“M-More than I care to admit.” Jon feels a sudden need to explain himself, to let Tim know he tries to keep it under control as best he can. “I’ve tried everything- tea, therapy, p-pills- it doesn’t work.” A note of frustration creeps into his voice. “Something doesn’t want me to sleep, I guess.”

“Just thought you were a workaholic, to be honest,” Tim pulls him into his side and Jon melts, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Should’ve known better. We work at the Magnus Institute, after all.” The laugh that comes from both of them is bitter. “D’you want to sleep in my bed, maybe? Just- just for company. I’ve been told that helps.”

“I-I don’t want to wake you.” The argument is weak and the both of them know it.

“You already have, love.” The endearment slips out unnoticed by Tim, but Jon hears it. “You’ll wake me either way, but I’d rather you didn’t wake up alone.”

“O-Oh.” There’s a lot of care in those words. Jon doesn’t know what to do with it, except agree. “Yes, I’ll- if, if you don’t mind-”

“Wouldn’t offer if I did.” He wouldn’t, Jon knows. Tim always means what he says when it comes to him.

So they curl up in his bed, an arm slung across Jon’s waist, his back to Tim’s chest. There are no spiders here, not in this bed that smells of dryer sheets and detergent and Tim. He’s almost asleep when the arm around his waist tightens suddenly.

“My brother always said the pressure helped. When he had bad dreams.” Jon opens his eyes.

Tim never mentioned a brother; it never came up in any of their conversations. Tim knows Jon is an only child, that he was brought up by his grandmother and had a lonely childhood. He didn’t realize, in all of their time together, that he knew so little of Tim’s own background, besides his publishing career.

Nobody liked to talk about what brought them to the Magnus Institute. It was like some unspoken rule, some shared trauma that somehow kept them all silent and apart.

“Your brother?” he whispers, turning over to see Tim’s face. Its dark, but he thinks he can see a brightness in Tim’s eyes like unshed tears. 

“Danny.” Tim says the name like he’s asking for forgiveness that Jon can’t give. He sees a tear drip down the man’s face and he reaches for it, just like Tim did before. “He was...he was my little brother. And he was so, so good.” Tim’s voice breaks and something in Jon breaks too. “And something took him from me.” His expression is hard but his hand reaches out to lovingly trace Jon’s face, as if trying to memorize its shape.

“I’m sorry,” Jon knows his apology is not enough, that it will never fill the gap in Tim’s heart. Instead, he finds words spilling from his lips, as if sharing his own pain will help too. “I-I saw someone get taken, once. I didn’t- I didn’t love them, but- but it was because of me.” Tim’s hand is in his hair, tucking a curl behind his ear as his voice wobbles. “It should’ve been me.” 

Tim draws him close and squeezes; Jon buries his face in the crook of his neck and inhales. “I’m glad it wasn’t you, Jon,” Tim whispers as he runs a hand down his back. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Jon isn’t Danny and Tim isn’t offering him absolution but it’s fine, for tonight.

Jon doesn’t dream.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494077

[zeldasayer]

I transcribed and translated Pedro’s interview from GQ Germany for all of us. I tried translating as good as possible but bear with me, English is not my mother tongue. By @sixties-loser

Pedro Pascal, the star from “Game of Thrones”, “Wonder Woman” and “The Mandalorian” talks about becoming an adult, film, fashion, corona – and a painful surgery in the exclusive GQ interview.

It seems almost eerie how empty the streets of LA are in the sunshine. Meanwhile a new normality seems to be coming to Europe, most people in L.A. are still cutting their own hair. Many have not seen their friends for half a year. The pandemic is out of control. The reaction towards it too. Inviting someone into their garden for a “distance drink” can cause the same distress as suggesting to switch spouses.

Therefore, it was particularly surprising that Pedro Pascal immediately accepted. He accepted the drink, not to switch spouses. He is one of the rising stars and newcomers this year – if it wasn’t for corona sending the whole film industry into a forced vacation, there would most likely not have been time for said drink. After having his skull crushed in “Game of Thrones” followed the lead role as a DEA agent hunting Pablo Escobar in “Narcos” in 2015 and now he is stepping towards big Hollywood films. From the 1st of October onwards the Chilean-born actor will be starring in the blockbuster “Wonder Woman 1984”. Moreover, the second season of the “Star Wars”-series “The Mandalorian” on Disney+ starring him as the lead is going to air in October this year – but he will be underneath a helmet. Well, we all are under a helmet in 2020 in one way or another. We want to meet the man who a few years ago still worked as a waiter in New York, whose parents were political refugees who found asylum in Denmark and settled in Texas and whose son one day signed up for a theatre group in High School.

Then, the cancellation! While we were in the middle of fixing up the house and the garden for the drink with Pedro and organizing the fashion shoot, which was not easy considering the safety measures in L.A., his management called with an unfortunate message: Pedro – no, not sick with corona – had to get emergency surgery because of a damaged tooth and was lying in bed with a swollen face that was hindering him from speaking and taking pictures. The sun is shining onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later he nonetheless arrived at our front door without a swollen face but still with threads in his mouth. He was not chauffeured by a limo-service but he came with his own car – he even picked up his make-up artist. He is helping her carrying all of her utensils into the house and declares: “I’ve got time today!”. What a celebrity! It seemed like we did not want to ask him how he made it to the A-List of Hollywood but he wanted to ask us how we made it to the A-list. Pedro Pascal! Yes, what kind of a celebrity?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for messing with your plans. The surgery was an emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling wasn’t the product of a secret visit to the plastic-surgeon. Apparently, they are drowning in work because of the quarantine in Hollywood.

PP: I have to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I was rushing to the hospital with a fractured tooth and the worst pain in my entire life – a hospital in which treats people with severe cases of corona. I was unable to reach any dentist! Right in front of the parking lot a specialist called me back. The pain was hell despite the ten injections I got. The doctor said I was not an exception because a lot of people are grinding their teeth because of all the stress.

GQ: What are you most afraid of at the moment?

PP: How the government is handling the pandemic is worrying me more than the virus itself. This shortage of intelligent management of the crisis is a moral shame. The leadership crisis in this country is turning us all into orphans – destitute and abandoned.

GQ: How did you spend your time over the last few months?

PP: I spent it with frozen pizza and sweatpants in Venice Beach. I live in a rear house that’s in a family’s garden. Actually, there are a lot of good takeout places nearby but for some reason I just love pepperoni pizza from the supermarket.

GQ: That does not really sound like movie star-lifestyle. What does it feel like being suddenly stopped from top speed to zero?

PP: Regarding what is going on around the world one should hold back one’s own mental turmoil. I would be lying if I was saying that I am not disappointed. The whole team put a lot of heart and work into the production of “Wonder Woman 1984”. We had a lot of fun on set. I wished to travel around the world and introduce the film with the same lively energy.

GQ: You come from a politically engaged, socialist family that fled from the Pinochet-regime in Chile. What do you remember from that time?

PP: My sister and I were born in Chile but I was only nine months old when we first found asylum in Denmark. From there we quickly came to San Antonio in Texas where my dad started working as a doctor at the university clinic.

GQ: Texas is not known as a socialist utopia. How did you assimilate?

PP: San Antonio is not a Cowboy-town but very diverse with big Asian, black and Latino communities. I remember it as a romantic place, culturally open. The culture shock only came as we later moved to range county in California. There the atmosphere was suddenly white, preppy and conservative.

GQ: How were you received in California?

PP: I’m still ashamed of the fact that I did not correct my classmates when they kept on calling me Peter. I am Pedro. Even if I didn’t grow up in Chile the country and the language are still a part of me. I was very unhappy in that environment. However, I was fortunately able to go to another school close to Long Beach where I felt more comfortable. Through the theater group at that school I found my way.

GQ: Were you able to visit Chile as a child?

PP: Yes, when my parents made it to the list of expatriates that were able to travel to Chile without consequences. First, there was a big family reunion and then my sister and I stayed there for a few months with relatives while my parents went back to Texas. They likely needed a break from us. They got us when they were very young, had a buzzing social life and my mother was obtaining a PhD in psychology.

GQ: Was your mother a typical young psychologist who wanted to apply her theoretical knowledge at home?

PP: You mean, whether I was her guinea pig? For sure! I remember strange tests and sittings that were disguised as games where someone was watching me react to different toys. I cannot have been older than six but I was already aware of the dynamic. My favourite thing was being questioned about my dreams. That was a wonderful opportunity to come up with fantastic stories.

GQ: Was that your first performance?

PP: Of course! My mother worried about my strong imagination because I was living in my own fantasy world rather than reality. I hated going to school. I was always categorized as the troublemaker. At one point, the topics at school became more interesting and my grades also went up. There are so many kids that are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be abhorrent. Why is it so accepted to be bored in class when there are so many stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

GQ: Considering al that has happened this summer around the world: Do you believe that we can seriously demand social change now?

PP: I Hope so. After lockdown, the first time I went out was to protest for “Black Lives Matter” on the streets. The energy was peaceful and hopeful until the police provoked severe conflicts. Nevertheless, we cannot run from problems like we used to this time and we cannot distract ourselves from them either. It seems like the pressure of the pandemic led to a new clarity: We cannot go on this way.

GQ: The “Wonder Woman 1984” Trailer revives the optimism of the 1980’s. From today’s point of view, it seems almost nostalgic.

PP: That’s right. You really are happy for two hours. The director Patty Jenkins created a film full of positive messages. We shot in Washington D.C., then in London and Spain – this sounds like I am talking of a past time.

GQ: Do you miss traveling?

PP: I’m just now realizing the privilege of just packing up one’s stuff and being able to fly anywhere. An American passport used to guarantee unlimited travel. And that’s why it the small radius of our lives is actually unimaginable. Over the last years I often retreated for a break after shootings because I was constantly on the move and overstimulated. My friends were already complaining I had become too comfortable. We all took social contact for granted and are only realizing now how dependent we actually are on human contact. Over the last weeks I often longingly thought about all the parties and dinner invitations I declined.

GQ: In L.A. people spend more time at home or nature than in other metropolises that are more geared towards public life. Could this city become your second home after New York?

PP: My Real Home are my friends. I have been a nomad since I was little and I do not have a place where I have put down roots. Up until not long ago my physical home was a place in between departure and arrival. Therefore, it was something I did not want to complicate through the accumulation of stuff. On the contrary: Without having read Marie Kondo’s book I have freed myself from excess baggage over the last few years and I lived relatively minimally.

GQ: Is there nothing you collect or something you just can’t throw away?

PP: Books! I even still have the literature I read when I was a teenager and when I was in college. Recently, I stumbled upon a box full of old theatre manuscripts and materials from my time at the New York University. I also cannot part from art easily, just like I cannot part from lamps or old photos. On the other hand, I can easily get rid of furniture and clothes.

GQ: Do you remember roles that were really only completely defined through the costume?

PP: Yes, I am particularly thinking about “Game of Thrones”. At that time I understood for the first time what it meant to be supported by a look. This is thanks to the costume designer Michele Clapton. She created very feminine robes and brocade coats for my character that nevertheless looked masculine when worn and I felt very sexy in them. Of course, Lindy Hemmings power-suits and Jan Swells bleached hairstyle for the tycoon-villain in “Wonder Woman 1984” were very important as well. At first I did not really see myself in the role because the cuts and colors of the 80s do not really fit my body. I’m more the 70s type.

GQ: Do you incorporate those inspirations into your personal wardrobe?

PP: In my free time I choose comfort over a cool look these days. Sometimes I miss the times when I expressed myself through a certain style. It is hard to imagine that I went to Raves as a teenage in the 90s; I was a real club kid with ridiculous outfits: overalls, balloon pants, football shirts and a top hat, like in Dr.Seuss’s “Cat in a Hat”. Later in New York I was hanging out with a group of people that felt it was very important to have a certain style. The fact that I am basically only wearing sweatpants everyday is actually tragic.

GQ: whoever plays roles in comic book adaptations becomes a bodybuilder and eats ten chicken breasts a day. You don’t?

PP:My body would not agree with that. It is hard enough to stay in shape normally. When you’re in your mid-forties you have to live with a lot more discipline. Up until before my tooth-incident I worked out with a trainer in my garden multiple times a week to keep the quarantine body in check.

GQ: Apart from the personal trainer, are you in a steady relationship?

PP: I am not ready for that yet. Maybe at some point I will be but until then I’ll let it be. I can’t even offer you absurd corona dating stories.

GQ: What would annoy you the most if you were your own roommate?

PP: I can be quite controlling. I have to conjure all my humanity to prevent myself from going through my entire film collection. When I don’t want something I cannot keep it to myself or be passive-aggressive, I always have to take it to the frontlines. Other than that, I tend to have tunnel view: when I am not feeling well I cannot imagine to ever feel better again. I have trouble relativizing my emotions or to wave off problems. Method-acting would really not be for me. This is why I try to only work on projects that feel good, where there is mutual support and encouragement.

GQ: When we were trying on the clothes earlier you spoke of a lack of self-confidence. How does that get along with a career like yours?

PP: Isn’t it interesting how these characteristics and circumstamces relate? Self-worth comes from inside but it is also influenced by what society values because we often internalise the public gaze. I have lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and made a living by working as a waiter until my mid-thirties because the theatre and film jobs I got did not pay the bills. There were so many times I was almost there. The disappointment of having missed the perfect role or opportunity by a hair’s width can be crushing. When should you give up and what is plan B? That is a question that is not only on many actors‘s minds but also on many others minds who struggle for a living – no matter how much potential they have or how close they seem to be to the top. We are seeing now how our narrow definition of success destroys society. At the same time, we are realizing that where we come from and the color of our skin still decide whether we can exist with dignity.

GQ: What are the positive aspects of a relatively late success as leading-man?

PP: I feel like I can decide over my own life without the pressure of having to accept projects or to have to present a certain identity on social media. This is for sure also because I am a man. Regardless of age, Women have to try harder to stand out.

GQ: Life always consists of risk management – now more than usual. For what would you risk losing something?

PP: Generally, when you never risk something you might never get ahead. That is for friendship, love, work and creativity. I have to be ready to take risks for the things that really matter to you.

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

Tea for Two

It’s Tuesday, Neville thinks. Tuesday morning, and I’m walking down the lane, on my way to my favorite cafe instead of double Potions or Transfiguration or out to the greenhouses for Herbology.

He looks at the ordinary English street, filled with Muggles going about their lives. It’s been five years, he thinks. Will I ever get used to not being at Hogwarts?

Probably not.

It doesn’t help that he doesn’t actually do much. He studies advanced herbology from home, and has extensive greenhouses of his own. He’s doing research on plants with healing properties, specifically those that may possibly have effects on long-term brain injuries. He’s got a personal stake there, of course, but no one’s arguing with him yet. And he also grows a lot of flowers and vegetables; there’s no magical reason, it’s just soothing to be in the garden. Plus it’s nice to eat the things he grows, and the flowers just make him happy. His parents even seem to like his tomatoes and peppers, even if they don’t quite say as much, and the flowers he brings add a bit of life to their room.

So he’s actually doing rather a lot, he just doesn’t do much that involves other people. Harry and Ron pushed him towards auror training after Hogwarts, but he’d had enough of warfare and fighting. He likes the quiet of his gardens. The thought of being at the Ministry day after day gives him a stomachache.

But today he doesn’t have to think about all that. It’s just an regular Tuesday morning, and he’s just going to have tea at the cafe, because he likes their scones and Katy always smiles and greets him by name, and sometimes they talk about her kids and sometimes they talk about his plants.

Ordinary things for an ordinary day.

* 

“Hi Neville!” Katy smiles at him when he pushes open the cafe door.

He smiles back, pushing aside the somewhat melancholy thoughts of his walk. “Hi Katy,” he says. Nodding behind her he adds, “Looks pretty busy this morning.”

“Every table’s taken!” Her smile falls, just a bit. “Do you mind sharing? Your favorite table, the one by the window, has only one gentleman sitting at it. I don’t think he’d mind; he’s quiet, but he’s a polite sort. I don’t think either of you would be bothered too much. You probably wouldn’t even have to talk with him, he’s reading a book–”

Neville stops her with two raised ‘I surrender’ hands. “It’s alright, Katy. I’ve shared tables before, I’m sure it won’t ruin my morning tea.” He winks. “Just so long as there are still some of Becca’s blueberry scones left. If not, I’m back out the door.” He turns to leave, an exaggerated, slow turn that has Katy laughing again.

“Plenty of scones for both of you,” Katy says. At Neville’s questioning look, Katy says, “They’re his favorite, too.”

She leads him to a table where a young man with white blond hair sits, staring out the window and sipping tea, a book open on the table in front of him. There’s a leaden feeling in Neville’s stomach. It can’t be, Neville thinks. It just can’t. Didn’t he go to Azkaban? But no, that’s not right, Not Azkaban. Something else for this one. Neville can’t remember. But it doesn’t matter, because it can’t be him anyway–

But then the young man turns, and of course it is him, Draco Malfoy, Neville’s one-time tormenter, one-time enemy, and now….

Now. What exactly is Draco Malfoy now?

Katy speaks quietly to Draco, who in turn smiles and nods sympathetically. Neville sees the words of course on his lips, and Katy turns to Neville and ushers him to the empty chair. Neville hesitates, but only for a moment. He can handle this. He’d survived the Carrows. He’d survived Snape. He’d survived the Battle of Hogwarts, all the Death Eaters, and Voldemort himself.

Surely he can survive tea with Draco Malfoy.

And then Draco looks up and sees him, and he feels like running away.

It’s only for a moment, just a fraction of a moment really, but he feels like that little boy learning to fly again, the one afraid of the blond boy who stole his rememberall, the one who fell off his broom and broke his arm.

But it’s only a moment, and then he sees something behind Draco’s confident exterior, something unexpected.

There’s worry in Draco’s eyes, too.

So he sits, and when he speaks he uses the tone he learned from Luna, the one that says I’m your friend even when the words are talking about everything else. “Hello, Draco. It’s been awhile, you look well.”

Startled, Draco says, “That’s the first time you’ve ever called me Draco, Longbottom. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Neville’s taken aback at this. It hadn’t even occurred to him. “We’re not kids anymore, are we? Maybe we’ve grown past all that.” He shrugs, a little like the old Neville after all. “We can try anyway.”

They sit in silence for a long moment. A shuffling noise beside them nearly makes Neville jump; he’d forgotten about Katy. She’s got an odd look on her face, and he can see that she’s wondering about the rest of the story. He’s going to get an earful later, he knows.

“Could you just bring my usual, Katy? Extra scones today, I’m quite peckish.” He tries to make his smile reassuring. He’s not sure if he’s relaxed enough to succeed.

After Katy bustles off to fetch his tea and scones Draco, regarding Neville with his refined eyes, says, “So you come here often then? Often enough to know Katy and to have a regular order?”

“How do you know Katy? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Katy knows everyone who comes in here,” Draco says, as if that explains everything.

Neville can’t help the thread of exasperation that slips into his voice. “I’ve been coming here three or four mornings a week for the past two years. I stopped in once a few days after I moved to town, had one of Becca’s scones, and I’ve been coming back ever since. Once or twice a week I bring Katy flowers for the counter.” He nods at the vase of daisies and roses near the cash register.

“Those are yours?” Draco sounds surprised, and impressed. “I complimented Katy on them once a few months back. Lilacs, I think, and pale pink roses. She told me one of her favorite customers kept her in flowers. Said he fell in love with Becca’s scones and…” He trails off, just looking at Neville. Finally he says, “They’re beautiful. Do you grow them with magic? I’ve never seen flowers so perfect.”

Neville shakes his head, unsure if he should smile or not, unsure how to take the compliment. “No magic. Just a greenhouse for some of the roses in the winter, and a decent knowledge of how to take care of plants.”

“Only some of the roses?”

“I let a third of them rest each winter. Plants get tired too, if you make them bloom all the time. Most of my flowers I keep on their normal cycles, but I can’t help it with the roses. They’re my…” And then he remembers who he’s talking to, and he gets a bit flustered. “Well. I like them, is all. They keep me company in the winter, give me something to do.” He almost adds someone to talk to, but that’s too much like confiding.

“Do you only grow flowers?” Draco sips his tea, watching Neville expectantly for his answer.

It suddenly hits him that he’s having a conversation with Draco Malfoy. About something as ordinary as gardening. And it’s–well, it’s nice. He risks a small smile at Draco.

“Not just flowers. I have vegetables too, in summer. But I spend most of my time on my magical plants. Mostly I just cultivate and sell some things to a shop in Diagon Alley, but I’m also working on– oh, sorry, you don’t care what I’m working on.” His tea and scones have been in front of him for a few minutes now; he absently takes a drink of his tea and barely notices that it’s too hot.

Draco looks surprised. “Of course I do. I asked, didn’t I?” He gestures encouragingly. “Go on then.”

So Neville explains about his healing plants, and his focus on brain injuries. “I don’t know if I’m being useful or just mucking about, but it’s keeping me busy.”

Draco’s giving him a look like he’s never seen him before. “Do you want to be a healer?”

Neville shakes his head. “I want to be what I am, a herbologist. I want to do research and dig in the dirt and make things grow. And possibly help some people along the way.”

“I had no idea you liked herbology.”

Neville laughs, a short bark of a laugh. “Draco, you never knew anything about me.”

Suddenly Draco, always so calm and cool, seems almost flustered. “I’ve no idea how to speak to you, Longbottom. We spent seventeen years on the opposite sides of an uncrossable line. Or seven, at least. And I wasn’t exactly kind. Not to your friends. Not to you.”

Looking Draco directly in the eye, Neville shrugs. Not an ‘it meant nothing’ shrug, but maybe a ‘we can get past it’ shrug. “Are you still a Death Eater?” He doesn’t know where he’s finding his boldness.

Draco actually snorts. And how is it possible to make a snort sound attractive, Neville wonders, but he pushes the thought aside. Or possibly buries it under a rock in a deep, dark wood.

“I’m not allowed a wand,” Draco says, as if it should be obvious. “If I need magic done I need to ask someone to do it for me. Mostly I don’t, though. I live on my own, practically a muggle. Did you know I have the Trace on me again? The Ministry did it up special. They say it’s not forever, but…” His tone tells all; he never expects to do magic of his own again.

Neville feels a pang at this. An actual pang of sympathy for Draco bloody Malfoy. Because he understands what it’s like to have to live without magic. He’d been thought a squib for so long, and even when he’d gotten his wand he’d been so rubbish at magic he mostly avoided doing it. The DA helped with that.

Standing up to Voldemort didn’t hurt either.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Draco.”

Draco starts to laugh, but when Neville’s expression doesn’t change the laugh stops on a breath. “You– Merlin, Longbottom, you actually mean it, don’t you.” He shakes his head, a short, well-bred shake. “Never thought I’d hear one of your lot apologize to me for anything. You should be laughing in my face. Kicking me when I’m down, that sort of thing.” There’s not a hint of irony, not a drop of self-pity in his voice when he adds, “It’s what I deserve.”

Neville pushes away from the table and storms away in one smooth motion, his chair clattering to the floor in his wake. He ignores the stares of the others in the cafe, doesn’t even acknowledge Katy’s whispered, “You alright, Neville?”

The only sound–besides the whispers–is his own frustrated breathing. No footsteps besides his own stomps.

Draco isn’t coming after him.

He’s a block away before his head starts to clear. He’s still a jumbled up ball of emotions, but at least he can think a little bit about why. Draco had sounded so much like “little Neville” he’d felt an almost physical ache inside. Neville is a different person now, mostly, but he still holds that little boy close. He can’t ever forget what it feels like to be looked down upon, to feel unworthy of everything, and to know that–somehow–it was all his fault. The grown, somewhat wiser Neville knows that’s rubbish, knows no one deserves to be treated that way…

And yet.

Some wounds will never heal, not completely. All it had taken was a few choice words from Draco Malfoy, of all people. And he hadn’t even been talking down on Neville, he’d been talking down on himself.

He walks as he thinks, and without direction his feet take him to his favorite bench in his favorite park; he sits and almost smiles, feeling his burdens lift just a bit to see the small rose garden all in bloom. It’s blurry though; he swipes at his cheeks, surprised to find a few tears have leaked from his eyes. “Good thing Draco didn’t come after me,” he mutters. “That’s all I need, him seeing me crying in the park.” Not that there’s anything wrong with crying. Not that he cares at all what Draco thinks of him.

He sits up at the thought. Had he wanted Draco to come after him? Yes, he’d been under the impression that they’d been having a nice time, enjoying their tea together, having good conversation. At least at first. But it hadn’t been anything more than that. It’s not like they’d been on a date or anything.

Neville is staring at roses, all red and yellow, pink and white, but all he sees is intense grey eyes.

And he wonders when, exactly, his stomach had started fluttering at the thought of Draco Malfoy focusing that intense gaze on him.

And then he feels it. He doesn’t look round, but he knows absolutely that Draco is there.

Looking at him.

“I wondered if you’d come,” Neville says softly.

There’s an almost imperceptible rustle of fabric. Maybe a shrug. “I paid for the tea. And the scones. Katy didn’t want to let me, but I insisted.”

“I have a running tab,” Neville says. He’s still looking down, looking away. Avoiding Draco’s gaze.

More rustling fabric. Another shrug? “Just seemed the right thing to do, after I chased you off like that.” The tone is so self-deprecating it’s almost like a blow.

“You didn’t chase me off, I ran away.”

“Isn’t it the same thing?”

Neville lets out a breath. He doesn’t want to argue. “I don’t know. Maybe. It doesn’t matter.”

Neither of them moves for a minute. Two. Finally Neville says, “It wasn’t uncrossable.”

“It– what?” Draco sounds completely lost.

“The line. It wasn’t uncrossable. You crossed it. You were at the Battle of Hogwarts but you didn’t fight. I saw you there, huddled in a corner with your parents.”

“Oh for– Longbottom, that wasn’t crossing a line. That was staying neutral to save our skin!”

Neville looks up for the first time, lets the corner of his mouth quirk up in an almost smile. “Are you truly going to stand there and argue semantics with me, Malfoy? When I’m clearly giving you an out?”

Draco throws his hands up in the air in an overly dramatic gesture. “Thank Merlin, you’re calling me Malfoy again. Hearing you call me Draco was just too weird.”

Rolling his eyes and fighting back a grin, Neville says, “Sit down, Draco. I do not like looking up at you.”

Draco sits, and rather closer than Neville had been expecting. “Here,” he says, shoving a white bakery bag towards Neville.

It’s heavy with scones, and still warm. He almost reaches in and grabs one then and there. “This is more than I had,” he says slowly.

“Mine are in there too. I thought, maybe...” Draco says, his tongue tripping over the words.

Standing up, Neville says, “Come on, then.”

Draco looks up, unsure.

“I’m not far from here, we can walk. I’ll show you my gardens. We’ll have tea.”

“But didn’t we just–”

“You’re English, Malfoy, there’s always time for tea.”

Draco actually smiles at this. “Alright.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Neville offers his hand. Draco, after a brief hesitation of his own, takes it.

Draco’s hand is warm, and comfortable, and surprisingly calloused. He must actually be working somewhere. They’ll talk about it later.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve gone soft, you know. Don’t expect me to start calling you Neville.”

Chuckling softly, Neville squeezes Draco’s hand. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

Draco gives him a curious look. “When did you get taller than me?”

Neville’s laugh bursts out, he can’t help himself. “Somewhere around fourth year. But in case you forgot, I was terrified of you. I generally stayed as far away as possible.” Draco looks embarrassed, like he’s about to apologize, so Neville stops him. “Please don’t. Maybe we can agree to not talk about school? At least for today?” He’s looking at Draco when he says it, and sees understanding flash in his eyes.

“So there might be…” Draco seems unable to finish.

“Tomorrow? Yes. And possibly even another day after that. But let’s just have tea for now, yeah?” Neville doesn’t quite look, but he can see Draco’s soft smile from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, okay.”

 *****

BONUS SCENE:

(Because this was in my head but I couldn’t make it fit anywhere in the story. Enjoy!)

They're sitting on a blanket in the grass in Neville's garden, eating scones. Conversation flows like summer breeze, light and easy.

"You work in a bookshop?" Neville can't hide the surprise in his voice.

Draco grins. "A muggle bookshop."

Neville's eyes widen. "Your parents must hate that."

"Oh, they've got no idea," Draco says. "I tried to tell them I was looking for work and they told me 'A Malfoy does not labor, Draco.'" He gives a derisive snort. "I've no idea what they think I'm doing for money. Maybe they think I found a way around the trace and I'm magicking money somehow? Who knows." He waves dismissively. "We don't see each other much. Our ideals have...shifted."

They just look at each other for a moment. The words are understood, they don't need to be spoken.

"But I like my job. I unload the books and put them on the shelves, and it feels good to do something. And when there's down time I can read whatever I want–don't look at me like that, I actually like to read, though I kept that hidden at school. I had a reputation to uphold." Neville laughs. Draco smiles, actually blushes slightly. "The best part of my job is helping customers find books. It's why the owner lets me read so much of the inventory, so I can connect people with the right books. Maybe what they came in for, maybe something unexpected. Turns out I'm pretty good at it." He shrugs. "At first it was just a job, a way to get money to live. But now..." They both let the silence go for a long moment. Then Draco finishes. "Now, I think I'd miss it. If the Ministry came and gave me my wand back tomorrow, I think I'd still keep working there. I think that's who I am now."

Draco looks away, suddenly very interested in the grass just beyond the edge of their blanket.

Neville reaches across the small space between them, takes Draco's hand in his. He feels the callouses against his palm, calluses earned carrying boxes and shelving book after book.

"I'm glad you found yourself," he says.

And I think I'm glad I found you, too, he thinks to himself.

[sparklegemstone]

Taking a break from work so time to write up more of my Loki trailer thoughts since all the cool cats around here seem to be doing it :-D.

In chronological order:

1) Personally I was 'meh' about the trailer starting with the Endgame scene just because I think the Russos did a terrible job matching the tone of that scene with the tone of the original Avengers film's conclusion and I want the Loki series to feel like a continuation of Avengers.  Alas, the Endgame scene grates on me as feeling inauthentic to the story it's supposed to take place in.  But I certainly understand the practicality of needing to put it in to give the audience the context for when/how this new story with Loki is taking place.

2) But five seconds later on the other side of the wormhole…yay, Kate Herron fixed the tone!  This feels much closer in tone to when Thor and Lok depart for Asgard at the end of Avengers.  Excellent job Kate.

3) Was so pleasantly surprised by Owen Wilson's portrayal!  Very different than any of the comedic characters I strongly associate the actor's acting style with.  I like his character a lot with what we've been given so far.  It's instructive reflecting back on the potential concerns I had and that were being discussed in the fandom when we were working with scraps and rumors that we now know don't have merit: things like 'Hiddleston is only there to narrate the series' and 'How comedic in tone is this going to be if Waldron from Rick and Morty is hiring Owen Wilson?'.  Ah the good old days of baseless speculation.

 4) I mentioned the frequently low camera position in another post -- it does a poor job of conveying how Loki carries himself, tall and straight and elegant.  It makes him seem more ordinary, but maybe that's the point -- equalizing him with Mobius rather than it being an Asgardian in a non-Asgardian's presence.

5) The way Loki goes from locked down and not letting any sense of what's going on his head slip to Mobius (what I feel is in-character for Loki) to suddenly being a lot more open with what he's actually feeling and having less guarded, more friendly/casual attitude toward Mobius is weird to me.  I think it's a cut just for the trailer and hopefully it will make more sense in context, but Hiddleston's acting here and the way he has no qualms about being physically guided out of the elevator by Mobius is one of the points where it felt more like Hiddleston playing a different character than playing Loki to me (and lacking Loki's costuming doesn't help that perception certainly).  Which I know is nitpicky, but I was just curious to see to what degree this would actually feel like 'fresh off of Avengers' Loki and so I'm paying close attention to what feels in and out of character for me.  Does Mobius say something to really throw Loki for a loop that would cause him to drop his guard like that?

6) "Glorious" -> YAASSSS that's the Loki I wanted to recognize.  He's back!  I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around how blessed I am, but we've got him back for more screen time.  Also, with him back in Stark Tower and the later image of post-apocalyptic Manhattan, I am super intrigued by the possibility of Loki (and me too!) experiencing different ways things could have played out on Earth, if he'd succeeded in his conquest for example.

7) Loki's going to learn about what happened in the main timeline and the choices he made in the future?!  That's huge!  Should be a fascinating character moment.  This bit of Loki turning away from the projector gives me a lot of hope that the writing in the show is actually going to explore, honor, and authentically run with where Loki was as a character at the end of Avengers and the context of what he experienced rather than Marvel just plopping the "general" character of Loki into a genre-fied crime thriller show basically disconnected from the events of Thor and Avengers so they can say they made a Loki show.

8) Do I like Loki in the beige detective jacket?  Nah, not really.  But I do appreciate that even with the earth costume they kept Loki's style of being completely covered up.  Also creates contrast with him not being in control when he's in the TVA prisoner jumpsuit that has short sleeves.

9) Thought that was Nat on Voromir at first because of the purple environment.  Been reading some thoughts on how that's probably not Nat, and while the theories make sense, if that's true, why would Marvel put in a shot of a character that looks so much like Nat that it would cause confusion and maybe get her fans' hopes up?

10) I agree with @delyth88​ on the D.B. Cooper scene.  Didn't think I'd want Loki looking like Hiddleston, but I don't mind it / it's not taking me out of the scene as I might have expected.

11) The fight choreo and edit into the twirling -- I already discussed this before, but the physicality of it is giving me human-strength!Loki vibes.  If instead the guy he's fighting is also super strong, wouldn't the plastic or metal disc thing between them break upon impact?  Also the fact that it seems implied that Loki would get hurt by jumping out of the plane w/o Heimdall’s help to catch him.

12) The twirling -- is Loki legitimately, celebratorily, uninhibitedly happy?  I feel like we've never seen him like that since the Thor cut scene before they all made that fateful trip to Jotunheim.  I read a theory that the roman numerals on the building in this frame might mean he is in Pompeii the year the volcano erupts, which is interesting.

13) Loki saying "Brother”,  “Heimdall", coordinating with at least Heimdall, traveling on the Bifrost -- HOPE!  BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL, HOPE!  I was honestly expecting the show to make no mention of anything connected to Asgard, except maybe segueing into Thor 4 at the very end, so the fact that Loki is (indirectly) interacting with Heimdall -- calling Thor "Brother" (even if not to Thor) !!!!!!!!!!!! -- interesting!  

14) The idea of him being D.B. Cooper is very fun! (though I didn't know who that was in advance).  It's very easy to pretend that Loki is real and has been an unidentified part of our history all along.

15) I do not like the last scene with comics!Loki suddenly being brought to life.  In fact I had a very kneejerk dislike of it the first couple times I watched the trailer (so many watches ago :-P) because it presses a very personal button of mine, which is how the MCU is moving toward becoming more spectacle-driven and comic-book-y and therefore away from the grounded, character driven storytelling that I enjoy about the MCU.  I'm here for the character of Loki that I love as he is already established in the MCU, not the comics versions of the character.  Also, IMO the acting is out of character for MCU Loki and more goofy.

That said, I'm hopeful context will help a whole bunch here as @iamanartichoke​ has said.  Given all the timey-wimey multiverse shenanigans, it's probably not even Avengers!Loki anyway, and I'm certainly not going to begrudge the many fans who are excited to see comics references on screen.

Overall impression?  Very excited, very hopeful.  Would I selfishly want a story that's just a direct continuation of the Avengers and hyper focused on the exact context of the character of Loki as he was in Avengers, fleshing out the off-screen bits and up-until-now only implied emotional impact of what Loki experienced between the end of Thor and the start of Avengers, digging into his relationships with the Black Order, and family, reconciling with his heritage?  Uh…duh ;-).  

But you have to give an audience what they need as opposed to what they think they want, and from a craft perspective, this has to be its own story.  The Thor and Avengers stories are their own stories, they're told, they're done, even if certain emotional threads were left hanging / implied / off-screen that we as very detail-oriented Loki fans would like to see dealt with explicitly.

But given that this was always going to be its own story, I'm very hopeful that the series has an explicit creative goal of telling a story that also does a great job with emotional continuity and exploring the fallout of Thor and Avengers and what that means for Loki's character; of honoring, picking up from, and running with Loki as a character in the context of who he was when he surrendered to the Avengers and where he goes from there.

The Marvel Studios executives could have easily decided to make an isolated story featuring Loki that general MCU fans that don't think overly deeply about the character would have been very happy with and probably it would be very successful, and I would have gladly taken that over nothing.  But I'm optimistic that that isn't what we're getting and that they chose to ground their story in the specific context of Loki's character.  We'll see!

[440mxs-wife]

Test Results, Part 2

Pairing: Sam x Reader

You sat on the edge of your bed in the bunker, trying to make sense of what had just happened. A tear slipped down your cheek and landed on the back of your hand. Today was the day you found out that your boyfriend of three years, Anthony, had been cheating on you.

After you left work early and ran some errands, you went over to his apartment to decorate it for his birthday. You were greeted by the sight of clothes strewn all over the floor, including a black bra and panties. The clothing trail led to the bedroom, and judging by the sounds coming from the other side, Anthony was not alone.

You barged in the door, grabbed a bag and stuffed into it the few possessions you may have left there when you stayed with him. The worst part was, Anthony didn't even seem to be sorry for what he was doing, nor was he at all upset that he got caught. Anthony told you it was over, and that he had traded up from you to the woman currently in his bed. Once you got all of your stuff, you went home to your room in the bunker.

Sam walked down the hall past your room on the way to the library, and noticed that your light was on. He gently knocked on your door, so you quickly wiped away any tears and tried to compose yourself. "Come in," you said, clearing your throat.

"Hey, I was on my way to the library and saw your light was on. Aren't you supposed to be over at Anthony's, celebrating his birthday?" Sam asked as he entered your room.

"Hmm? Oh, um, we're going to wait until this weekend to celebrate. That way it's not on a night where he has to work the next day," you lied.

Sam cast a skeptical glance at you and moved to sit next to you on the bed. "Seriously? Come on, what's really going on? You know you can talk to me, right? Me Sam, best friend?" he said as he lightly nudged your shoulder.

You chuckled. "I left work early today, ran some errands, then went over to Anthony's apartment. You know, to decorate for his birthday? Well, as it turns out....he wasn't alone," you explained, the tears threatening to start anew.

"WHAT?!? Oh, that's it, I'm going over there," Sam jumped up, headed for your door.

"No, Sam! Wait!" you called and grabbed his hand to pull him back. "Please. I appreciate the sentiment, but just leave him be. It's not worth you getting into a fistfight with him over. We're over, done. I never want to see him again. Especially not after what he said," you added softly, tears now streaming.

Sam tilted your face up to meet his warm hazel eyes. "What? What did he say?" Sam asked.

You shook your head, too embarrassed to tell Sam. In your mind, if you said it out loud, then it was true, and you couldn't bear it if Anthony was right.

Sam took your hands in his and gently caressed the back with his thumb. "Please? Whatever it is, I'll guarantee you it's not true," Sam affirmed.

You paused to collect your thoughts before answering. "He said that he had traded up from me to that other woman. Meaning he found someone better than me," you said as you dissolved into a crying mess.

Sam looked away and swore under his breath. He silently promised that if he ever saw Anthony again, he was going to make him regret ever hurting you. "Listen. That's not possible, because there is no one better than you. There's someone out there for you, believe me. Someone who loves you for who you are, which is pretty great person. Then you'll be saying, 'Anthony who?'" Sam finished.

You giggled a bit through your tears and leaned your head on Sam's shoulder. "Thank you, Sam. I appreciate you for saying all of this," you smiled.

"You're welcome, anytime. I'm only stating the facts, you know. Now let's go get some ice cream for dinner and watch a movie," Sam suggested, to which you agreed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of months had passed since you and Anthony broke up. You got back into a regular hunting routine with Sam and Dean, and soon it seemed like old times again.

This morning, you were packing up to visit Sheriff Jody Mills and her daughters in Sioux Falls. As you were packing, you suddenly felt a wave of nausea hit you. You ran to the bathroom, where you proceeded to lose your breakfast and anything else you'd consumed in the last few hours.

As you sat on the bathroom floor and waited for the nausea to subside, you wondered what could be causing it. Stomach bug? Maybe. Then you did some math in your head and realized it was more than likely a common case of pregnancy. You leaned your head against the wall and closed your eyes, trying to figure out what you were going to do.

You got up from the floor, washed your face and brushed your teeth. You picked out some more clothes to stuff into your duffel bag. Sam poked his head in your doorway. "You about ready?" he asked.

"Just need my bathroom stuff, and then I'll be packed," you explained. You walked back into your bathroom to get your toothbrush, shampoo and other toiletries. You didn't realize Sam was still standing there, watching until you zipped your bag closed and looked up. "What?" you asked.

"I don't know. It's just....is everything okay? You look kind of tired. If you want, I'll talk to Dean and tell him you want to stay here and rest," Sam offered.

"I'm fine, Sam. No need for me to stay here. I've been looking forward to this visit for awhile. Besides, it's a long-ish drive, I can sleep on the way to Sioux Falls," you replied. You picked up your bag, only to have Sam take it from you and sling it over his shoulder. "Sam, I can carry that," you grumbled.

"I know, but so can I. Let me take care of you for once," he replied. You stomped your foot in playful protest and crossed your arms over your chest. That made him laugh and he took off, running up the stairs with you close on his heels.

Once in the garage, he handed your bag off to Dean, who placed it in the trunk. "Thank you, Sam," you relented, giving him a side hug. "You're welcome," he said as he kissed your forehead. Everyone got into their respective seats, and it was off to Sioux Falls to see Jody and her girls.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After a couple of hours on the road, Sam turned in his seat and saw that you had fallen asleep. His long arms reached back and replaced your bookmark then he closed your book. He rested his chin on the back of the seat, taking the opportunity to study you a bit.

A lock of your short, wavy brown hair had fallen out of place, so Sam tucked it behind your delicate shell of an ear. His thumb brushed across your lips, causing them to part slightly. Your breath was hot against that part of his hand, which sent an electric spark shooting through him.

He sat back in his seat and stared out of his window at the scenery zipping by. Anthony didn't deserve you, he told himself. You belong with someone who appreciates your kindness, your generosity, your sense of humor and your beauty.

Sam found himself imagining what it would be like for you to look into his eyes as if he were your whole world. He wanted your long, slender fingers to thread through his hair, to feel your hands as they slide their way up his chest. Most of all, he longed to kiss your perfect lips and find out for himself if they were as soft as he imagined them to be. But, he had no idea if you even felt the same, and he wouldn't ever want to give up on the friendship you had in order to find out.

"Everything okay, Sammy?" Dean smirked.

"Yeah, Dean. Everything's just peachy," Sam grumbled.

"Dude, come on. I can tell you like her, so you should just tell her. Ask her out, something. This dancing around you're doing is getting on my nerves," Dean muttered. Sam just mumbled something in return.

About an hour later, the Impala pulled into Jody's driveway. Sam opened your door and offered his hand to help you out of the backseat. You blushed and when you took his hand, you felt a jolt of electricity shoot up your arm.

Jody, Claire, Alex and Patience all came pouring out of the house to see you. Hugs were exchanged all around, with Jody lingering a little longer with you. "You okay, kiddo?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Jody, why?" you returned.

"Come with me," she said as she took you by the hand into the kitchen.

"So, what's up?" Jody asked. "And don't give me that 'nothing', because something about you is different," she remarked.

You took a deep breath before answering. "I think I might be pregnant, Jody," you confided.

Jody did a little happy dance before she realized you hadn't joined in. "I take it this may not be good news?" she asked.

"Only because it's Anthony's baby, and he said so many times that he never wanted kids. If I did the math right, I'm about two months in, just before Anthony and I broke up. Jody, what am I going to do?" you whispered.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. Whatever happens, you've got Sam, Dean and us to get you through it. The question is, what are you going to tell the boys, especially Sam? Don't look so shocked, I saw how he looked at you as he helped you out of the car. I also saw that same soft look in your eyes, chickie," she teased.

"Really? I never paid attention. Do you think maybe....nah, Sam and I are best friends. He doesn't see me that way," you replied. "He's so wonderful, Jody, so kind and loving. But I'm not even in his league," you said softly. "Besides, what's he going to say when he finds out I'm pregnant with another man's baby? How's that going to work? He definitely won't want me then," you choked out.

Jody brought you into a hug again, rubbing your back to try and calm you down. Sam walked in and saw that you were upset. He gave Jody a puzzled look, but she waved him off with a shake of her head. When Sam went to put your bag in one of the bedrooms, Jody called Alex over. She asked Alex to take you in to the hospital for a blood test to confirm whether or not you were pregnant.

Sam saw you getting ready to leave with Alex, and asked where you were going. Jody said she was sending the two of you into town for some extra supplies, and for Sam not to worry. Sam mentioned that he was going to go and take a nap while you were gone, then he kissed your forehead.

After Sam left the room, Dean went to talk to Jody and asked what was really going on. All Jody said was that it's your business and that he should ask you if he wanted to know. Then the two of them stood in the kitchen, discussing how you and Sam needed to confess your feelings to each other.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the way back from the hospital, all you could do was stare out the window. You now had confirmation that you were indeed about two and a half months pregnant. Alex turned to you and put her hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it'll be fine. You are going to be an amazing mother," she tried to assure you. "What about the father?" she asked.

"My ex-boyfriend, Anthony, made it clear very early on in our relationship that he did not ever want children. He said that it was non-negotiable, that he would never change his mind. I still feel like I should call him and let him know, though. I'll wait till we get back to Jody's to do that," you decided.

As soon as you walked in the door, Sam engulfed you in a hug. "Are you all right? What happened? Claire said you and Alex went to the hospital," he chattered. "Are you still feeling sick? I can make you some soup if that would--" you cut off his rambling.

"Sam, please. I'm okay, nothing happened. Jody asked Alex to take me in to the hospital because she thought I looked dehydrated or something. I'm fine. I just need to make a quick phone call," you assured him. "I'll be right back, I promise," you reached up and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once out on the back porch, you pulled out your phone, but paused before calling your ex-boyfriend, Anthony. You thought back to what Jody said to you about Sam and how you looked at each other. It was true, that your feelings for Sam had grown beyond friendship. The only problem was, you had no idea how he felt about you. You didn't know whether he just considered you to be his best friend, or something more.

Sam Winchester....so kind, supportive, sweet and so much more. He always knew just how to cheer you up when you felt like everyone was against you. In his arms is where you always felt the safest, like nothing could hurt you. His hands were strong and sure, ready to pick you up and dust you off to face the world again. And his smile....it never ceased to warm your heart, and seeing it was the best part of any given day.

You scrolled through your contacts to find Anthony's number. To your shock, he picked up on the first ring. "Hello?" he answered.

"Anthony, it's me. I have something to tell you, something that involves both of us. I'm pregnant," you blurted out.

Silence reigned on the other side of the phone. "And? What exactly do you expect me to do about it?" Anthony retorted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back in the house, Sam was full of questions about your phone call. "Who's she talking to? She looks upset. I'm going out there," he said as he started for the door.

Jody grabbed his arm. "Whoa, wait a minute there, cowboy. Give her a few minutes. When she wants you to know, she'll tell you," Jody explained.

Sam took a seat in the kitchen, hands folded in front of his mouth and his elbows resting on the table. He swore to himself that if he found out anyone hurt you, he was going to take care of it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Anthony, I'm calling to tell you, because as the baby's father, you have a right to know. After the baby is born--" he cut you off.

"If you decide to keep that baby and let it be born, you will be completely on your own with it. I told you early on in our relationship exactly how I felt about having children. I don't want to be involved in any way, shape or form. You will get no financial support from me whatsoever. Don't even think about putting my name on the birth certificate," he snapped.

"Fine, Anthony!" you snapped back. "I don't need or want your support anyway, financial or otherwise. I can and will do this on my own. This baby will always know how loved he or she is, and will never have to know what a colossal jerk you are for rejecting your own child!" you shouted as you hung up from the call.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam ran to the door leading to the porch as soon as he heard you shouting. He waited to hear what it was you were talking about before running outside. Baby? he thought. It all made sense now, you being tired and getting sick right before leaving to visit Jody.

From your conversation, Sam gathered that you were speaking to Anthony, telling him it was his baby. He heard the pain and frustration in your voice that Anthony didn't and would never want anything to do with it. What an asshat, Sam thought. She deserves better than Anthony, and the baby is going to need a father. At that moment, Sam knew in his heart what he should do. Before he stepped outside, he locked eyes with Jody, who smiled and nodded in encouragement.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket and turned to kneel on the bench seat. You clasped your hands together and looked up at the starlit sky. Tears silently streamed down your face as you pondered your next move. "Please. I don't know what to do. This baby means everything to me. I promise to be the best mother I can be. I need some sort of sign that it's all going to work out," you whispered as you rested your forehead on your clasped hands.

A few seconds later, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You gasped in surprise and saw that it was Sam, a soft look in his eyes. He nodded as he took your hand, and you leaned into his broad chest. His arms closed around you in a protective embrace, his chin rested on top of your head. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks and dampened the front of Sam's T-shirt.

"Shh, shh, it's going to be okay. I promise," he soothed. Sam placed one hand on the back of your head and stroked your hair as he rocked you back and forth.

"What am I going to do, Sam? Anthony doesn't want anything to do with the baby. Not now, not ever. I swear, I'll be the best mother and raise this baby on my own if I have to," you declared.

"Hey, you don't have to do this on your own. I'm right here with you, and I'll be with you every step of the way," Sam promised. "Every craving, every doctor's appointment, all of it."

"Why, Sam? Why would you offer to do this? It's not even your baby," you sobbed.

"Because, sweetheart....I love you," Sam declared. "I have for some time now, but if you don't feel the same--" you stopped him by putting an index finger on his lips.

"Sam, I absolutely love you too. I never said anything before, because you're my best friend. I couldn't bear to lose that if you didn't feel the same," you explained.

You leaned back from his chest and tilted your head up to look into his eyes. You smiled and slowly nodded, then Sam dove in to capture your mouth with his. The kiss was a bit rough at first, driven by an intense need, then it settled into a slow burn fueled by desire. "Oh, my love," Sam whispered.

"Oh, my sweet Sam...." you whispered back.

Still wrapped in Sam's arms, you turned so that your back was resting against his chest. Sam rested his chin on your shoulder. Every so often, he placed feathery kisses on your neck. You giggled, because you were ticklish from his 5 o'clock shadow. In response, you felt his laugh rumble deeply in his chest.

"Remember what I said to you the night of your breakup?" he asked and you nodded. "I told you there was someone out there for you. Someone who would love you for the great person that you are?" he continued, and you nodded again. "Guess what? It's me. I love you for everything you are. For your kindness, your generous spirit and your sense of wonder. Our baby is going to have the best mother ever," Sam declared as he pulled you a little tighter in his embrace.

"Our baby....I love you for everything you are, Sam. For your strength, your intelligence and your mesmerizing smile. You are my other half, the missing piece to my puzzle, my safe place. Our baby will have you as the most amazing father ever," you finished.

"Too bad for Anthony," Sam remarked.

"Anthony who?" you replied with a grin.

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker - See the light (2)

Second part is here! Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Small sneak peek 

First part

Plot: it was a strange request, for sure. But he needed the crown back, and to get out of the bonds; and just, maybe, he couldn’t say no to the excited face you were giving him.

Peter woke up to the feeling of something pinching his cheek, and consciousness crashed into him like a wave. First feeling, and the light. He groaned and rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, a desperate attempt to rid his skin of the itchy thin being poked into his face. The light was still bright and blinding, and there was an ache in the back of his head.

Confused and slightly scared, he let his eyes adjust to the light and drifted them to the left, stopping a goddamned chameleon on his shoulder. Peter screamed in surprise, too high pitched and moving desperately. The chameleon kept looking at him for a few seconds, just watching as the boy almost fainted again with its sight.

Peter moved his wrists and ankles against their restrains, and noticed that he was bound to a chair, no previous memory of sitting there. Once the screaming was over, the chameleon walked away slowly and he could sigh in peace.

Just then, he realized he wasn’t tied down with rope, but hair. Blinking confused, he wiggled.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you”

Peter’s head whipped up at the new voice, and standing about fifteen feet above the floor, was the silhouette of a person on a wooden beam. The hair that he was wrapped up in seemed to come from them, and Peter squinted his eyes trying to focus on the figure.

“What?” he asked.

“Trying to break free is pointless”

“Free of what? Of hair?” Peter chuckled, although it was a nervous laugh. His palms were sweating.

You swung down to the ground and stepped out of the shadows, pan still in your hand and brow furrowed in cautiousness. Peter let his mouth hang open, because he had imagined some freaky old woman that had the complex of a witch, or a creepy man that wanted to sell his limbs. He didn’t expect a young girl, beautiful and healthy, that could steal his breath.

Instant blush rose to his cheek, and the old Peter, the one who wasn’t a thief but a shy boy, took over. He instantly felt like stuttering, babbling incoherent things and blush; but he knew better.

“I’m not scared of you” you said, voice small.

“You sure about that?” Peter attempted to seem cocky, and thankfully you didn’t notice the fake confidence.

“I know why you’re here” you waved the pan closer, almost hitting Peter’s nose. He launched his head back, the chair moving with him. “How did you find this place, and who are you?”

Peter kept his eyes on the pan and on you, not wanting to be left unconscious again.

“I don’t even remember how I found this place. I had no idea you were even here”

“Who are you?” you had a scowl on your face, but Peter didn’t find it scary; more like adorable.

“My friends call me Parker”

“Okay, Parker, who else knows my location?” you asked, round the chair. Peter didn’t like the change of scenery, as he couldn’t keep a constant eye on the pan.

“What? L-Location? No one, unless you count a snarky horse, I think” Peter shook his head, thinking about the horse that had followed him until he found the secret entrance of the tower. “Oh god, I hope that horse doesn’t know where I am”

“A-a horse?” you squinted your eyes.

“Alright, darling –“

“Y/N”

“Whatever. If you could be so kind and unwrap me from… your homemade restrictions, I will take my satchel and then get out of your hair – I was dying to say-“ Peter’s eyes widened suddenly. “Where is my satchel?”

Feeling like you had won something important, you smirked and crossed your arms, almost hitting yourself with the pan.

“I’ve hidden it. Don’t worry about finding it, because it’s not going anywhere anytime soon”

Peter kept quiet, and looked around the tower. The walls were full of paintings, and some of them were awfully accurate; draws of the nature, the sky, see and things he didn’t know what were, but they were beautiful. His chest hurt when he thought about his aunt May awful drawings, so he kept looking.

There were books, a bed literally hanging from the ceiling and a small comfy kitchen. He looked at you for a second, and you had a sour expression on your face, as if you were waiting for him to reveal his darkest secret.

So he did.

“It is under the bed, isn’t it?”

The pan hit his chin faster than he could notice.

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

Next time Peter woke up, he was asked the same questions. If he wanted to sell your hair, to who he wanted to sell it, where would he take you, who sent him; and all of that under the hard glance of the chameleon on his shoulder, that made him try to strain his neck as far as possible.

It appeared that you had hid the crown somewhere else, because he had been right, and then you were more determinated to find the truth. After a long and hard interrogation, you managed to believe him.

“He could be telling the truth” you muttered, arms crossed and scratching your chin. Pascal rolled its eyes. “I know, I know but… he could take me. If mother isn’t going to…”

Pascal seemed to catch on what you were saying, and even Peter didn’t know something like that was possible, the chameleon nodded excitedly. You looked back to Peter, caution filtering through your wide eyes.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” you asked, eyebrows threading together.

“Hm, august 10th?”

“You have been outside this walls, correct?”

Peter chuckled nervously. His neck was starting to hurt, his wrist were raw and he was getting cramps on his legs. If that was some kind of twisted consequence of stealing the crown, he was willing to take that back. He adverted his eyes away from your inquisitive ones.

“I’m gonna assume this question is rhetorical” he muttered.

“Every year, on August 10th, the sky fills with hundreds of lights.”

“You – you mean the lantern things for the missing princess?”

The way your face light up with happiness made Peter’s eyebrows draw up. You nodded excitedly, happy to have found a name for the phenomenon you had observed from your tower for years, and quietly begged to go. The surprise was so huge that you almost dropped the pan. Your entire intimidation-façade dropped.

“I knew they weren’t stars!” you clapped smiling, coughing a second later and bringing your hands to your back. “Well, I have decided that you will take me to see the, uh, lanterns. Then, you will return me home safely and never come back to this tower again. Once we have returned I’ll give you your satchel.

Peter gave you a full belly laugh, throwing his head back.

“Darling, I’m – is this a joke? The kingdom and I aren’t really on speaking terms right now, so I don’t feel the same urge you do to go galivanting into the city limits” Peter smirked; now that your façade was out, he found you much less intimidating. “So, if you could just unwrap me, give me my bag and pretend I was never here, that would put both of us out of a whole load of trouble.”

Your beaming expression dulled and turned into a full-on glare. You suddenly grabbed a hold of your hair, and with a sharp tug, Peter and his chair were tilting forward into your grasp. Peter found himself almost nose to nose with you, but was hard to maintain eye contact when you had caught him in a death stare.

“Listen here, Parker” your voice was cold and unforgiving. “You could tear this tower apart stone by stone. Brick by brick, boulder by boulder. But without my help, you’ll never find your precious satchel”

“So” Peter started, swallowing hard. His neck was starting to feel too hot. “I take you to the lanterns, bring you home without a scratch, and you give me back my bag?”

“I promise. And when I promise something, I never break that promise” you let the pregnant pause roll by, and then continued. “Ever.”

Honestly, you weren’t feeling confident. The boy in front of you had the capacity of making you nervous all the time. You didn’t know if it would happen with everyone you met on the way, but you had the imperial urge of tame those locks back with your fingers.

Peter didn’t notice, and tried to win the death-stare-competition, but it was pretty obvious that you were not backing down; so he gave up and diverted his eyes.

“I’ll take you to the lanterns.”

You squealed like a child, the pan fell the ground; along with the chair. Peter stumbled back with a thud, as you jumped around. Pascal seemed happy too, as he climbed into your shoulder and smiled broadly.  Peter couldn’t keep the smile off his face, and he snickered. He pushed the guilt aside; if you were that guidable and trustable, he could easily take the crown and run away. There was no place for kindness of innocence in that world. Still, Peter felt a pang on his chest as he watched you talk about what you should take with you.

“Now, could you unwrap me?”

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

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[dragonsateyourtoast]

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Original post of mine

Prompt, courtesy of @writing-prompt-s: “It is impossible to erase a curse, but it is possible to trade it with someone else. You’ve been wandering for years, searching for someone willing to trade curses with you, but never suspected it would happen like this.” 

-

Not many people are unlucky enough to get hit with a real curse. A true curse, a curse that writes itself into your bones and blood, not some surface-level scuff on your soul. Those happen all the time; little things like a higher likelihood to stub your toe, or a few extra minutes of searching when you’ve lost your keys.

To be cursed with a true curse is different. It’s something that you feel in your lungs when it hits you, which screams like static in your mind when it activates. It lies dormant like a disease, letting you forget it exists occasionally, until the time comes for it to rear its ugly head and it spits venom into your life once again.

You can’t get rid of a real curse. The little ones? You can polish them away, or pay a witch to get rid of them, or whatever. But the real ones... those are powered by something greater than just a little bit of malice. Those ones aren’t just throwaway statements of “I hope you always forget about your tea” or little sigils drawn on paper and burned to ash. These ones are borne of blood.

I used to sing at a church. I’ve long since abandoned the church, after they told me I was evil for a good number of things, including my curse. I didn’t even think it was that bad, at first.

When I speak, things come to me. Animals, mostly. Sometimes it’s plants. Insects and spiders and stuff are the biggest problem. Birds are the next worst. No matter what I do, if I utter a single syllable, I am swarmed in an instant with everything alive around me except other people. I laughed on a lakeshore once - the fish died when we were trying to shove them back into the water. I sighed too loudly once, on a wet night; I’d never seen so many worms.

There are online boards for people who want to swap curses. I know you can do it - curses don’t like to be destroyed, but they love to hop around. They’re kind of sentient; they like to see new things. Sometimes, if you don’t give them what they want, they’ll evolve, force you to carry them harder. Mine is pretty dormant; I never speak, but it doesn’t cause problems. It can feel my misery.

I’m not going to get into what got me cursed in the first place. It was an accident, and it wasn’t even my fault, and I’m marked forever in more ways than one.

July, 2014. I sat in my room, reading a book. I don’t remember what it was. One of my friends messaged me, asking about a movie that was coming out, and while I was checking movie times I saw someone had pinged me in the curse boards.

Curious, I visited. I’ve had this curse for twelve years, mind you, and never been able to find anyone willing to switch me. It’s just too inconvenient.

But, there in the board, was a message in a five year old thread I’d made. It read:

“Hi! I saw your notice. I’m a wildlife biologist in Arkansas. I’m cursed too, and I think that you would be the perfect person to switch curses with, if you’re willing. It seems like you’re an active member of the forums, but it’s been a while; do you still have the same curse you did before? I’d really like to swap you for it, if that’s still possible.”

What? I stared at it, uncomprehending, until I finally messaged her directly through the site. “Thanks for your interest,” I told her. “What curse do you have, so I can know what I might be getting into?”

“Nothing too terrible,” she wrote back. “When I speak, whatever I say comes out in a different language. I never know which language it’s going to be, either, and if I stop speaking or take a breath, well, it switches. It’s really a nuisance if I’m trying to communicate with people! Yours seems to be that you can’t make any sound at all; being able to laugh or speak without consequences would be an improvement for you, right?”

“It would,” I wrote back. “And it would mean you have a lot less freedom in what you can say. Why do you want my curse?”

“I can’t explain it,” she said, “I guess I’ll have to tell you if it works.”

We agreed to meet up about six hours from where I lived, at the halfway point between our houses. I wasn’t working at the time - it’s difficult to hold a job when you can’t speak or your building suddenly reveals how many rats are in it - so I gathered what I needed and left the next morning.

Six hours. I had six hours while driving to wonder why she would choose to make her life worse, by preventing herself from even laughing. I couldn’t fathom why. Did she want every living thing to swarm her at all times? I say swarm - I mean it. Just because the curse brought the animals to me didn’t make them friendly. I’d been bitten, stung, pecked, and scratched more times than I could count.

Whatever. It probably wasn’t my place to ask. I hadn’t asked her how she had gotten cursed, she hadn’t asked me, and I wasn’t going to ask her what she wanted it for if she wasn’t willing to tell me.

I pulled into the designated place - a restaurant on a tiny little highway exit in the middle of nowhere. I stood next to my car and waited.

About fifteen minutes after I’d arrived, a car pulled into the parking lot a few spaces away from mine and shut off. A woman got out - probably about thirty, with dark brown hair and brown skin, warm green eyes shining out from her face. She glanced over, saw me, and her face lit up. “Zdravo!” she called, and I knew it was her - that wasn’t a language I recognized. I nodded in response.

She pulled out her phone as she came over, and opened up a notes app. I opened mine too, watching, and she wrote down. “Songbird, right?”

“That’s me,” I wrote back, showing my screen to her. “Got everything we need?”

“Yeah, I visited a witch before I left home; that’s what I did with the rest of yesterday.” She set down a bag that had been slung over her shoulder and pulled out a shiny green box. She opened it, pulling out a length of white silk, and held out a hand. I held out mine, and she grasped my forearm; I took hold of hers.

Together, we wound the white silk around our hands and arms, binding us together, and tied it on the bottom, which is a lot harder than you’d expect. Then she looked me in the eye, still brimming with excitement. “Bist du so weit?” she asked, and then sighed and rolled her eyes. “Är du färdig?”

That still didn’t make sense, but I got the sense she was asking me if I was ready. I nodded sharply.

She began to speak. I didn’t understand it, of course. The language must’ve changed at least four times as she was trying to talk, and I couldn’t get a word of it, though I kind of understood some of what sounded like maybe French. I did catch her name, though: Maria Coombs. She finished, and looked up to me, expectantly.

My turn. This was going to be rough. I opened my mouth, swallowing; I really, really didn’t talk often. “My name’s Sage Lawson. I willingly take on to myself the burden this stranger bears, so that they might carry mine in turn.”

Above, I saw a flock of starlings divert swiftly in its path; a fly bounced off my face. “I give to this person the magic that has plagued me. I take upon myself the magic that has plagued her. Together, we give to each other.”

Nothing seemed to happen, but the starlings fluttered into a nearby tree and began to squawk at each other, ignoring me. I looked warily up at them.

“Is that it, then?” Maria said, and gasped, her eyes going wide. She clamped a hand over her mouth. The birds overhead hopped downwards into the branches surrounding us, eyes black and wary.

I hastily unbound our hands. I was still too nervous to talk. Maria picked up her phone. “Say something!” she tapped out, and showed it to me, grinning.

I rubbed my hands together. “Antoka,” I said, still feeling my voice rasp in my throat, and paused. I’d meant to say “sure,” but my mouth had just... said something else. The feeling was uncomfortable, to say the least. “... أعتقد أنه نجح.”

Maria clapped her hands together. She was beaming, brighter than I’d ever seen anybody smile. I ran my hand over my mouth, shaking my head. I could speak... though I wouldn’t make any sense. Whatever. I could work with this. I could work with this!

“Thank you,” Maria typed back, still beaming. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I didn’t, really, but she was so happy, I couldn’t help but smile and even give a little breath of a laugh. That was more than I could’ve done before.

I handed Maria the silk back. She took it, replacing it in the box, and put it back in her bag. Already, she was humming.

You could hum, I remembered. You just couldn’t open your mouth and speak, or laugh, or sigh too loudly. Humming was the only thing that had saved me from despair after I’d been cursed.

“Maria,” I called, as she walked back over to her car with a bounce in her step, and she turned, eyebrows raised.

“Hmm?” she said, without opening her mouth.

“Ευχαριστούμε,” I said, with a smile.

Maria may not have known the language, but she understood a thank you when she heard one. She beamed at me, waved, and got back into her car.

Three months later, I got a message from Maria, the wildlife biologist living in Arkansas. It was an email that she’d sent after getting my email address from my account on the curse forums, where I’d been busy figuring out how to work with my new curse.

“Thanks,” it read, “for all the help. You have no idea what this means to me.”

Attached were two pictures. One was of her on a canoe, floating through some kind of forested swampy area, and the other was a photograph - in full color and perfect clarity - of an ivory-billed woodpecker.

[excindrela]

12 Days of Demon Ayno- Day 8

Supernatural AU

Pairing: demon! Ayno (Noh YoonHo) VAV / Female reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Occult - non Judeo/Christian celebrations

Word Count: 3380

AU: Welcome to Day 8! (Is it ok that we’re still doing Christmas?)  Today is fluffy...but important (that’s all I’m going to say about it for now!). More smut is on the way in Day 9! I love feedback- so if there’s something you like, or something you want to see- tell me!! Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me on this! Special thanks to @quyennie​ for being my proofreader, and @itsakpopalypse​ for coming up with the amazing description of Leo!

Demon Ayno: Summoned | Thanksgiving | 12 Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

On the 8th Day of Christmas: You Met Leo

You were stretched out on the bed, laying on your belly, feet lazily kicking in the air, staring into your laptop as you tried to work your way through your overflowing e-mail inbox. Ayno was lying next to you, his head cradled in the small of your back, reading a large hard-backed volume that was old enough to have cloth on the binding and cover. The fabric was now a little threadbare in places allowing the thin wood to show through, and it had that old library book smell that you caught a hint of as he turned the yellowed pages. It was also written in Greek, which was not surprising- the antiquities section of the library was one of his favorite places.

“Do we have plans on Wednesday night?” he inquired absentmindedly.

You thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. The office Christmas Party is on Saturday night…but I don’t think we have anything before then. Why?”

“I was invited to a holiday party. I was hoping you would go with me.”

“Sure.” You said as you unsubscribed from a newsletter for the fifth time.

…and then it hit you. “You were invited to a holiday party?? By who??”

“My friend Leo. He is having a party to celebrate the solstice, and he invited me. I think he is curious to meet you.”

“Leo? You have a friend?”

“I think so.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“He runs a shop in downtown.” Ayno paused hesitantly and sat up, “He knows.”

You stopped cold and stared at him. “He knows what?”

“About me. What I am.”

You started at him in shock. “Ayno…you told someone??” you whispered.

Ayno shook his head vehemently, “No! He just knew. As soon as he saw me, he knew.”

You sat up and took Ayno’s hands. “I think you need to tell me the whole story”, you said softly.

“It was not long after I received my key. I had gone out to explore downtown, and I had decided to turn south to go home, when I suddenly felt compelled to go a different direction. I walked west into the part of downtown that has not been made new yet. I just felt something pull me in that direction. I walked until I came to an area where the shops are all arranged in a square around courtyards, and in one of them was a shop called The Ace of Cups. The Ace of Cups is the card of intuition and spirituality in the tarot deck. When it is upright it means opening up to possibilities and new beginnings, upside down it indicates loss, instability and pain. The picture on the sign was upright, so I went inside. I think you call it a ‘metaphysical’ shop: herbs, crystals, supplies for wiccans and druids- things that pertain to the occult. I understood why I was drawn there- it seemed familiar.  As soon as I entered a man emerged from the back and stared at me. His gaze at me was very intense…it scared me...and his eyes were blue…but they were not a normal blue. He spoke to me.

“Marry meet, friend. Can I help you?”

“I was drawn to your shop. I am not from around here.”

The man snorted. “That’s an understatement. We don’t see much of your kind. Do you have business here?”

I knew then that he knew something about me. I tried to proceed cautiously. “I mean no harm. My Patron lives nearby. I am granted freedom to occupy myself when I am not attending her.”

He seemed intrigued. “You have a regular customer?”

Ayno shook his head “I am in service. I have not been released.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Eight risings before All Hallows Eve.”

“That’s a long time for you. Are you trapped?”

“No, no. She is pleased with me and desires me to stay. I have grown fond of her. I do not wish to be released.” Ayno hung his head. “Please. I am not a virulent entity- I will cause no harm. This place feels…comfortable.”

The man stared at him intently, considering his plea. “By what name are you called?”

“I am Ayno.”

“Very well, Ayno. So long as there is no malicious intent, you are welcome here. I am Leo.”

 You sat for a moment, absorbing the details of the story. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me?”

Ayno looked down and picked at a loose thread on the cover of his book. “I am sorry. I was afraid you would panic and send me away.”

You placed your hand on his cheek. “Ayno- look at me. I have no intention of sending you away. I’m just afraid that someone might try to hurt you or separate us if they found out.”

Ayno crawled forward wanting the reassurance of your arms, sighing as you held him tightly with his head against your chest. “I should have told you. I am sorry. Forgive me for not trusting you.”

You kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair. “It’s ok, I’m not mad. Trust takes time, it has to be built. I understand you aren’t used to trusting people.” You sat there holding him, turning his story over in your mind. “Ayno? One thing I still don’t understand: How did Leo know what you are??”

Ayno gazed up at you, “I do not know. But I do not think Leo is from around here either.”

*          *          *

You walked twelve blocks through the chilly night air into the area of downtown known as The Mews. The Ace of Cups was located in the third quad you came to. Ayno placed his hand on the small of your back and gently guided you past the ornate iron gates and into the crowd of people in the courtyard. You went to the food table so he could drop off the rosemary and sea salt roasted almonds he’d spent the afternoon making. You stood taking in the sight, eventually realizing someone was staring at you. The man in question was tall and broad shouldered but slender. He had high rounded cheekbones and his eyebrows arched at an angle that make him seem exceptionally intense. His nose was long and angled, and tilted down above his full lips, before the lower part of his face curved into an oval. You nudged Ayno who turned and followed your line of sight. “That is Leo”, he said raising his hand in greeting. Leo raised his hand back, and then disappeared into the crowd.

There were more people than you had thought there would be. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but people were wearing outfits that ranged from Game of Thrones to Wall Street day broker. There was a small bonfire near the front that some of this odd assortment had gathered around keeping warm. Scattered around the courtyard were tables that seemed to have various crafts to do, wares to buy; as well as one for food, another for drinks and a third for sweets. Toward the back, there were paper bag luminarias arranged in a spiral.

You and Ayno took a slow lap around the place looking at all the different things and Ayno said hello to people. His eyes lighted on one of the craft tables and he said, “Oh wreath making! We should make a wreath- we do not have one on our door.”

“Now that you mention it- we don’t, do we? I used to have one with glass balls on it- but it broke.”

You approached the table and looked at what appeared to be a pile of dismembered Christmas tree, baskets containing things like holly and cinnamon sticks, rolls of red, green and white twine, and stacks of what looked like twigs that had been bent and tied into rough circles. “I don’t think I’ve actually ever made a wreath before” you said looking at all the supplies and wondering how exactly to start. “It is not difficult I will show you how”, Ayno said happily. He walked you over to the wreath making table and selected a circle of vines that had been tied together. Then he carefully selected a piece of evergreen and wound it between the vines and used green twine to tie it in place. “See?”, he said, “Easy. We just keep doing this.” Five minutes later it became obvious that you did not have the knack for this. Ayno laughed and told you to choose the evergreen boughs and he would tie them on. In no time at all, you had a beautiful fluffy green wreath that smelled fabulous. Ayno pointed at the baskets on the table, “Oh holly and pinecones! We must have those too. You choose, I will arrange.” You pulled some sprigs out and a couple of pinecones and handed them to him. Ayno talked while he worked, “The wreath is a symbol of the wheel of the year. Holly is masculine. It is used on wreaths because the thorns are thought to keep evil spirits from entering a home”, he said as he arranged them and used more twine to tie them in place. Then he ran a fat red ribbon through the back as a hanger. “What do you think?” he said holding it up for your inspection. “It’s beautiful” you said with a soft gasp, “You know, you’re actually very artistic.” “Thank you!” he smiled, “I am satisfied with it. I think it will look nice on our door.” Ayno carried it over to the fence and hung it around one of the loops in the rod iron, next to the other ones that had been completed as well. “We can hang it here for now and take it with us when we leave tonight.”

You moved on to another table where there was a strange assortment of supplies. “What is all this Ayno?” He smiled, sat down & patted the chair next to him. “We are making things to hang in the trees for the birds. Part of the joy in the solstice is giving back to the earth and providing for rebirth and spring.” A nice woman in a green velvet cloak came over smiling “Merry meet Ayno! This lovely lady must be your girlfriend. Would you like to make birdseed ornaments?” Ayno nodded, “Yes Celestine! How do we make?” She told you to choose shaped cookie cutters as she poured birdseed into bowls. Then she patiently showed you both how to dissolve flour and gelatin into hot water and mix it into the birdseed. Then you pressed the sticky mixture into greased sun and heart shaped cutters you had picked. You stuck a drinking straw into it, and then lifted the cookie cutter off and pulled the straw out. “Excellent work. When they set, we’ll run a ribbon through the straw hole, and hang them in the trees for the birds!” Celestine said as she added them to a cookie sheet with others and bustled them off to fridge to set up.

The next table had large baskets of oranges and bowls of cloves and cinnamon sticks. “Ah! Pomanders! Have you made before?”, Ayno asked. These you knew. “Aren’t these from the Victorian era?” He nodded, “They were very popular then.” You paused for a moment as a realization hit you, “You were there- in the Victorian era- weren’t you?” Ayno gave a small smile and nodded, “Yes. I have been making these for a long time.” You sat watching Ayno braid ribbons and wrap them around the oranges, suddenly awed at how old he really was and how many times and places he had seen and experienced. He handed it to you when he finished and began another for himself. You set the orange down and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He placed a soft kiss on your temple and whispered “I do not know what has caused this, but I would like it to occur as often as possible.”

It did not take long for you to finish your pomanders- Ayno’s a complicated pattern of swirls ringed with rows of cloves and cinnamon sticks tied at the top, and your simple- if slightly crooked- rows of peeled stripes and clove buds. Ayno hung them on the fence with your wreath and led you over to a tall table that had strips of paper and assorted pens. “Mmmm. This is important. Choose a paper, and on it write down that which you would you want to let go of in your life. Anything you would like to unburden, things you would like to leave behind in the darkness. You can use as many as you need: one, ten, a thousand.” You took a paper and stared at it, with a ball point pen poised above trying to think of all the things in your life that weighed you down. You glanced at Ayno, who seemed very comfortable using a glass fountain pen, dipping it into a vial of ink and writing words gracefully across his paper in a language you didn’t recognize. “Your writing is beautiful.  What language is that?” You asked. “Mine.” He said simply. 

“For something that is supposed to be evil it’s awfully pretty.” 

Ayno’s hand paused, and without looking up he replied, “There are many things in the world that are purely evil but come wrapped in the guise of beauty.” 

You weren’t sure if you shivered from the cold or Ayno’s words, but he noticed your blue lips and sent you to wait near the dying fire while he got you something warm to drink.

He’d only been gone a moment when Leo seemed to magically appear at your side. He watched Ayno go and then looked at you quizzically, “Tell me, Ayno’s foolish mortal girlfriend: whatever possessed you to summon a demon and then keep it as a pet??”

“I didn’t summon him”, you stated.

Leo seemed confused. “That’s not possible. Ayno cannot simply appear- he has to be summoned.”

So, you told Leo the story about the Halloween party, and the book, and how Gia had summoned him, and he had come through your mirror.  

“Interesting”, he said, “You didn’t actually summon him… yet he remains bound to you…but why did you keep him?”, Leo pressed.

You shrugged, “Well…he’s very good at what he does…and my apartment was kind of messy…my life was kind of messy- I needed some help, and it turned out that I liked coming home to him …he’s easy to talk to and has a good sense of humor and one day I realized I didn’t want him to go…so I just never released him.”

“In other words, you kept him as a sex slave and a maid and then discovered he was actually a sentient being, is what you’re telling me?”

You were embarrassed. It sounded so awful when he said it like that. “Wow that makes it sound really bad. I know- in retrospect my reasons were feeble, and it was not exactly ‘right’ …but it’s not like that anymore. I care about him- so much. If he is unhappy all he needs to do is say it, and I will let him go- I would never want him to stay against his will.”

Leo looked at you -the challenge visible in his eyes. “Yes”, you whispered, “I love him.”

Leo nodded and gazed off into the distance for a moment. “You do know that he can kill you right?”

You were silent for a moment and then nodded, “Yes, I suppose he can, but I don’t really think that’s Ayno’s thing.”

“No”, Leo said “It isn’t. But he is still a demon- keep that in mind. It’s like getting a tiger cub and raising it as a house cat. Just be careful.”

You glanced up to see Ayno making his way back to you across the courtyard. Leo followed your gaze. “Ah- wassail. That will help warm you up, and it is almost time for the Yule log, so the fire will warm you too.”, Leo said as he started to move on and then stopped, and turned and looked at you. “For what it’s worth- he’s in love with you too.”

A few moments later, someone began ringing a bell and calling for everyone to gather around the fire which had diminished itself to embers. Ayno came and stood behind you, pressing his warm body against yours and wrapping his long arms around you.  Celestine and Aysheh wove through the crowd carrying baskets of holly and acorns. Ayno instructed you to take one of each. You watched as Leo and 3 other men carried in a large oak log decorated with ribbons, evergreen boughs, holly and mistletoe. A man wearing an outfit that looked like Santa Claus styled by the renaissance faire and a woman who looked like every illustration you had ever seen of a medieval druid came forward and began speaking. They called for all the lights to be extinguished; then they welcomed everyone. They asked all present to take a moment to dwell in the darkness -to know that this was the longest night of the year. They invited you to think about the past year, the old the things that you were ready to shed and leave in the darkness, and to envision the light returning- coming back to you- bringing new things into your life- awakening parts of yourself that had gone dormant and slept. The Santa Man stepped forward and raised his hands, as the Yule log was placed into the glowing embers everyone chanted with him “May the log burn, May the wheel turn, May evil spurn, May the Sun return.” The fire began to grow, and as it did, people stepped forward to toss the holly and the acorn in – some calling out things they were thankful for or hopes for the new season. Next, you tossed in the slips of paper you had written on- symbolically leaving those things in the past. When the crowd had committed their personal pains to the fire and vowed to embrace the possibilities of the coming year, everyone cheered and rang bells before launching into a lusty rendition of Deck the Halls.

Somewhere around the second chorus, Ayno pulled you away and led you to the spiral of luminarias at the back of the courtyard. He walked slowly backwards, holding your hands and pulling you through the softly lit path. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I have had such a good time. I was so happy to share this with you; I hope you were not bored.”

“No! It was really interesting! …and I’m really glad I came. Now I understand how you feel all the time: having little to no idea what is going on, and just trying not to call attention to yourself and look like you know what you’re doing. Afraid you’ll say the wrong thing and give yourself away. Honestly Ayno – you’re amazing, and I have new respect for how hard you try every single day.”

Having reached the center, Ayno stopped walking. He pulled you in close and brought your face to his. “Worth it”, he said as he kissed you gently and deeply.

“I’m cold”, you said, “Let’s go home and you can warm me up.”

“Look at that”, he smiled as the burgundy flooded his eyes, “Solstice wishes coming true already.”

*          *          *

 Leo stood leaning against the door of the shop, humming to himself as he watched you and Ayno depart the festivities. Your coat pulled tightly around you, your hair lifting slightly in the winter breeze; Ayno towering over you with your tiny hand in his huge one, his wings folded gently against his back, tail swaying as he walked, and his horns spiraling gracefully up into the moonlight.

Celestine paused as she walked past with another tray of completed birdseed ornaments, “Leo- what are you humming? I know that tune, but I can’t place it.”  Leo gave a small smile, and sang in his soft angelic voice:

“Just a little change

Small to say the least

Both a little scared

Neither one prepared

Beauty and the Beast…”

[turingtestr]

mobile post of all my information for the anon who wanted a mobile rules / bio. i could make a google docs but i’m burnt out. please also note, i haven’t even GLANCED at my bio i wrote for elijah since 2018, so uh... i should probably do that. sorry if it’s bad.

ONE. due to the nature of my roleplaying style, there will absolutely be mature themes here and there on this blog. all and any mature themes that involve sexual topics of the nsfw variety will only be written with muses that are 18+. as for those people that are 18+ that follow me, i fully understand if you do not want to write any nsfw content, and if any threads lead to that we can fade to black. just ask me, i’m fairly easy going and more than happy to make people feel welcome. it is not a requirement to rp nsfw content with me and i will never force anyone to do that. !

TWO. this is a selective/private blog. i really only roleplay with mutuals, however you’re more than welcome to reply to any of my open starters if i specify that you can but just know i might not reply because i (1) don’t know your muse, (2) have zero muse for the reply and will get to it later, (3) have no interest in the thread, or (4) am uncomfortable with something on your blog. roleplaying is also a HOBBY for me. i work full time and sometimes i genuinely cannot reply fast. if you hassle me to reply to things, i will not want to roleplay with you and it will turn me off from roleplaying with you completely. in fact, if you harrass me to reply to threads, i will automatically unfollow you because i’m not about that life of being pushed to reply to things. if you spam my follow button to try and get my attention, that will result in a soft block on your behalf. please don’t test my patience. if you do not have your ooc name on your page i will not follow you, due to me thinking hiding your ooc alias is shady and sketchy af.

THREE. i love shipping and i love roleplaying so much. this is not a single ship blog and none of the ships i portray are at the same time (unless further discussed with muns, of course).MY PRIMARY CHLOE SHIPPING PARTNER IS @TURINGTESTEE, which means that if kamski mentions chloe in a verse, he's most likely talking about this chloe. if there are any verses that kamski is going to have one single ship, i will make sure to let people know that in the verse description section once i make it. otherwise, my muse is a free for all. if i do have mains, which will be listed, they are just the people i will reply to the most, however, i won't actually limit myself to only roleplaying with them and i hope my mains respect and are comfortable with that.

FOUR. tagging triggers is something that means a lot to me as i am not comfortable with NEEDLES OR PUPPETS on my dashboard so i blacklist needles tw and puppets tw. i know it’s weird but hey, we all have our things. please let me know if you need anything tagged- even if i don’t personally follow you. you deserve a clean and safe dashboard to roleplay in. WARNING.

FIVE.anon hate will be deleted on the spot. no exceptions. i don’t care about your petty feelings and i won’t tolerate them in the slightest. i’m not here to entertain horrible people’s opinions of myself. constructive criticisms are allowed, but at the respect of myself reblogging a meme asking for it specifically.

SIX. mutuals are allowed to ask for my wire or discord, since i use both and would love to rp on both. i also play dead by daylight on ps4, so if you’d be down to game as well, feel free to hit me up there too! overwatch on ps4 is ITSGEOFFREY so you can add me there too.

SEVEN. i very rarely will send in passwords, as i do not require it and i should not have to be tested on your blog to be allowed to roleplay with someone. usually if you have a password, i genuinely just didn’t think to look for it and i apologize if this upsets you but you probably won’t see any from me.

EIGHT. please take into consideration while dealing with kamski that he has high signs of NPD & a huge god complex.

-----

BIOGRAPHY

NAME: Elijah Dean Kamski ALIASES: Eli, Lij, Boss, Kamski GENDER: Male AFFILIATION: Cyberlife Technologies, currently retired AGE: 36

THE START

there's many days where the kamski family would have a bit of struggles, as elijah grew up. he never knew much about his father, seeing as his father passed when he was a very young boy — no more than six. he'd never grown to know too much about him, and his mother didn't overly want to share about him, so it was safe to say the woman had a reason for not telling elijah and that was that.

growing up with a single mother who had severe epilepsy, elijah tried his very hardest to make his mother's life as easy as possible. school days would be very short considering he'd go straight home from school in order to watch after his mother. some days with his mother, depending on the medication the doctors had recommended her, would be better than others. she always appreciated her son's committment to being with her and he was determined to make life easy on the two of them. using the money she got from the state, she'd try to urge her son go into extra cirricular activiies he wanted to do, however he only dismissed the ideas, claiming that he'd rather be home. he'd use the money to spend on textbooks, wanting to develop his own version of a Vagus nerve stimulation device. one that would make sure to surge with electrical pulses before his mother even remotely had to move herself to activate the device. computer engineering was his goal, and he'd stop at nothing to get through that.

as life continued on, elijah continued to shove his head into books and continuously study. he pushed through high school faster than anyone had expected, at age ELEVEN he had shown his studies to multipile colleges, showing his theories on how to better create medical devices.

THE CHANGE

the university of colbridge had been a struggle for elijah, being the youngest student there. studying medical engineering was easy, and he had decided to double major in computer engineering as well, to perhaps attempt to integrate the two. though school was difficult, the hardest part was being away from his mother. the school had refused to let him travel back and forth, saying that freshmen had to stay on campus as apart of regulations and requirements from the state. when he started college, his mother had decidded upon asking the state for a caregiver- on the off chance that something did happen. with the VNS that was already implanted in her, she was able to have a job during the day, but the caretaker was supposed to just oversee her during the nights. it settled eli's anxiety about his mother a little bit. four months into his freshman year, eli had woken up to a call from the san antonio police, letting him know that his mother had been rushed to the hospital after having a grand mal seizure and hitting her head on their marble counters. apparently the caretaker assigned to look after his mother hadn't even shown up that night. he quickly rushed home, terrified what had happened.

something, however that night had turned elijah into a bitter person. into someone against humanity. though his mother had survived the seizure, things weren't the same for either of them. after knowing his mother's caretaker had ABANDONED her, elijah had fully decided to go more into engineering to create a way for humans to be more reliable. what was more reliable than humanity? MACHINES. something that would always obey. obedient machines that had a purpose and a task and would see it through. dropping fully out of medical engineering, elijah settled for computer science and engeineering instead. the utter drive to create a better human than humans themselves was so strong that by the age sixteen, elijah had worked together with a team of classmates to create the first medical assistant androids. REVOLUTIONARY KICKSTARTER model 100, or RK for short. RK100 was born and tested on his mother, who seeemed quite uneasy, but only wanted to support her son.

ENTER CYBERLIFE

though it wasn't perfect, the ark series took off. mainly piquing interest in san diego, california. the backbones of the mega-billion dollar company that would be founded by elijah kamski and his cohorts suddenly had at least three hundred backers trying to support the small business after seeing what a success the RK100 was at being not only a companion for his mother, but also how helpful the RK was at it's job. the medical caretakers were able to do so much, and suddenly with the money that was being thrown at the group, elijah became more than enthused with power. hungry for it, almost.

making more medical related androids were being highly requested, and the team set out to create diffrent functions for androids, trying to perfect everything.

taking into consideration his mother — his finest mentor and most trusted support, and what she thought of the androids, he sought out to consult with his old AI professor, Amanda Stern, on how to make the androids a bit more lifelike. It was hard, at least for what his mother admitted, for a human to trust a machine that looked like a machine to help themselves out through life. upon her advice, eli threw himself into work, the team of cyberlife growing into a business, and then a wide scale company alongside elijah's work. no matter what, the man was the front of the company, having done the majority of the coding and research in what brought the androids to life. the company sought after targeting the cheapest land developments in the united states in order to make their headquarters and warehouses, bringing CYBERLIFE to DETROIT, MICHIGAN where it currently resides.

it takes kamski four years after founding cyberlife to come out with a brand new appearance for his androids. something human like after struggling and struggling to engineer the perfect components to theorize biological functions. this equiptment created became biocompotenents, but it still wasn't enough to make thes he was creating look HUMAN. but after all the struggles and finally figuring out a way to regulate something akin to blood into the android's system, elijah kamski in the year 2022 releases the RT REVOLUTIONARY TURING model; a personal assistant to elijah kamski that uses the alias ' CHLOE '. Cyberlife has been thurst into the spotlight and once again Elijah Kamski realizes that these advancements in the world have honestly made people envious. the public demands the rights to these androids and while he still is bitter over humanity and the lack of reliabilty that humans provide for the world, he obliges. Cyberlife goes public with their androids and the public are now able to put a price tag on androids.

THE REVOLUTION

the world that assumes elijah kamski is nothing but a greedy, power-hungry boss of a CEO for cyberlife overlooks one important fact: he still wants revenge on the world. his mother passes on at the age 43, a few years before his greatest mentor amanda stern passes. the loss of both role models awakens a vengeful force in elijah kamski. one that wants to remind the world that mortality is relevant for all. cyberlife has created over thousands of models, all for different functions and he looks upon his kingdom with hopeful eyes as well as bitterness. humanity has become less reliant. they've become lazier. androids have become the working force, for the most part, and while elijah sees that as a positive note because it is moving forward away from the laziness and unreliability of humanity — the CEO is fully aware that his androids are becoming more and more human like the more and more they develop. the deviant base code is never once touched. always overlooked by cyberlife developers who dare not touch the work of the first working android made by elijah kamski himself. while he's aware he, himself, is mortal just like the rest of humanity, seeing his creations become sentient, to rise up against the laziness and unreliable humanity that he lives among has been his goal. he just awaits the REVOLUTIONARY KICKSTARTER 200 to actually get pushed to the brink of going through his code.

now it's just a game of waiting to see who pushes who, and who comes up on top. it's always a delight to play god.

THE SIBLING ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

i'm not going to be writing a brand new biography for the gavin / elijah brothers universe, but i need to work out how they can be related with my current bio, or i might just go off of a gavin's biography. shrug emote.

[shawnpetermuffins]

I Miss You

A/n: I hope this is good because I put this off for so long wanting to do it justice. And this is based very loosely off I Miss you.

Summary: you two broke up recently, and it's not sitting well with Shawn, even though he's the reason you broke up.

Requested by @it-isnt-in-myy-blood: Hi, I recently listened to the song 'I Miss you' (Clean Bandit, Julia Michaels). Maybe you could write a fic based on the song, angsty but with a fluff ending? Thank you... ❤️

***

Kinda_yourname

2,158 likes

Kinda_yourname Cabo sunsets >>>> anything else

•

It may have only been a week, but I'm missing it here! 😭

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I shut my phone off and toss it to the end of the bed. I should have been with her on that trip, but tour got in the way. I got in the way. It's crazy to think that if you asked me three weeks ago, I would have said that my girlfriend and I could overcome any obstacle thrown at us. But ask me again a week later, and I would tell you I was wrong. That being away from her for months at a time was too much for me and I broke it off because I thought it would be what was best for both of us in the end.

Now ask me if I still believe that.

I don't.

I haven't told anyone about us yet. I mean, everyone probably suspects because there haven't been Amy preshow FaceTime calls for good luck, and I'm not texting like a madman during dinner or when we're on our way to the venues. And I know she hasn't said anything to anyone either. How? Because for one, she hasn't blocked me on any social media - I know, I've checked at least ten times just within the last two hours. And two, she hasn't deleted the three pictures of us that she has on her Instagram. They're still there for everyone to see, me included.

Now my fingers are hovering over the keyboard and I'm staring at her name on my phone which is still My Love 😍, and I'll probably never change it. Because she is my love, and to strip her of that title because I'm an idiot just isn't fair.

Hey... I miss you

I type and backspace and type and backspace at least ten times. Because I want to text her. I want so badly to text her, but what if she doesn't want to hear from me? I wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to. I was the worst. Breaking up with her over the phone, no less because I was hurting being away from her. Never once did it occur to me that, yeah, she was hurting too. Or maybe she's with someone else. Maybe she's found somebody new. I want her happy, sure. But I selfishly still want to be the one that makes her happy.

Y/n I miss you.

I delete it one last time and open my photo gallery. I have an album saved for photos of us. Photos that I never got to post because she wanted to keep us as private as possible without being a secret. Which is why both of us only have 3 photos of each other on our Instagram. One for our six months, a year, and a year and a half. Two more months and we would have had a fourth picture.

I'm swiping through the photos landing on one I took of her when we were flying back to Canada after our first trip together. We're on a private jet because this was before we went public with our relationship. Andrew made sure that we weren't seen together in the airport or anything. She's sitting in the seat across the aisle from me, legs up to her chest, earphones in, head resting on her knees as she smiles brightly at me. There's another one of us curled up together on this tiny chair in a green room in the UK that Andrew sent me. She's literally curled into a ball on my lap, sleeping peacefully and my legs are spread in front of me, arms wrapped tightly around her body, head resting against the back of the seat.

The next one Brian took. We were at my place for a very impromptu new years party. It was just gonna be me and y/n, but she insisted we invite the guys over. And we did. It was one of the best nights of my life. We're watching the ball drop, with her in my lap, arm around my shoulder. I have one arm behind her back, the other on her thigh. I think Brian knew something was going to happen because at ten seconds to midnight he pulled his phone out and captured out first new years kiss. She's holding my face and I'm practically leaning her back against the couch. It looks like I'm seconds away from crawling on top of her, and it be honest, I probably was. She's just too perfect for me to resist.

Then there's one that Josiah took of us just a few months ago at the studio house. I had y/n on the kitchen counter, she was in these jean shorts that I loved her in and a button up that she'd stolen from my suitcase. Not that I was complaining. It looked far better on her than it did on me. I stood between her legs, my hands on her sides, slipping under the shirt a little bit, leaning her hips exposed. Not that either of u cared with her fingers threaded in my hair as casually as they were. My face is blocked by her figure, but there isn't a doubt in my mind that I was smiling entirely too wide standing between her legs.

The video that follows knocks the breath out of me. She giggling like crazy, but the camera isn't on her, it's on me. On my back, more specifically. She laughs even more when I wince at the feel of her fingers on my red, raw skin that is now home of her fingernail scratches.

"Baby? What happened to your back?" She asked, amused.

"Don't know," I said, turning to face her, my cheeks still holding a slight blush. "But I think the real question is, what happened to your neck, missy?" I pluck the phone from her hands and turn the camera to her where she's trying to cover her face. I manage, however, to take her hands in my free one and the camera focuses on the flourishing bruises that litter her beautiful neck, my favorite place to rest my head.

I close my eyes, the memory of that night filling my mind. Watching her come down from her high, my face still buried between her legs. The weight and cold touch of her hands as she pulled me up to her, into her, because she needed me closer. I can hear myself murmuring the words 'I love you' all over her skin, still remember the way her back arched when I hit the right spot again and again and her finger ran down my back over and over, once more and she probably would have drawn blood. And I may not be home, but I can smell her on the sheets, that constant aroma of warm vanilla penetrating my nostrils. God, do I miss her.

I'm only making it worse for myself by doing this, I know that. But I should feel bad. I lost the greatest thing in my life and I didn't need to. So I got back to our messages, but instead of going to type a new one, I scroll through, reading through our old texts. There's countless paragraphs of us professing our love for each other. Lots of random pictures sent, most from my side. There's conversations about getting a home together, and a dog. And her telling me how much she loves my family and me telling her how much they love her, how much they ask about her. It's all hitting me too hard right now.

And it doesn't help that im literally sobbing at 2 in the morning, in Paris. The city of love. The place she told me was her favorite trip to ever take with me. Where we stood atop the eiffle tower and I gave her a promise ring, a ring that said I would love her and keep her forever. A promise ring that was now probably in the ocean in Cabo because I tore us apart so easily.

I sit up suddenly, struggling to catch my breath. It takes a few minutes, but I'm able to pull myself out of this empty bed that would only be comfortable with y/n laying next to me. I'm scrambling through the room, picking up the pair of jeans I threw off my body earlier and slipping back into them. I find a torn work out shirt in the bottom of my back and push my head and arms through before throwing my youth hoodie over my already overheated upper body. My passport is sitting in my guitar case, and I grab both things without a second thought. My suitcase trailing behind me.

It's difficult booking a flight and carrying a suitcase and guitar all at once, but I get along just well enough and adjust myself in the lobby while I wait for a taxi. I don't text Andrew until I've made it to the airport and am in my seat on the plane, ready for take off.

Emergency... had to fly home. Promise to make it back in time for the Paris show.

And I turn my phone off before he can text or call me back. Because there isn't a damn thing that he could say that would keep me there in a city that's meant for lovers, when my lover is across the world instead of laying in my arms the way she should be.

I know I shouldn't be doing this. I know there is someone out there who is better for her. Someone who isn't constantly on the move. Someone who can come home to her every night and help her make dinner. Someone who can cuddle her until she falls asleep when she's having a particularly bad day. I know there's someone who can do those things.

But I also know that he won't love her the way I do. He won't know all the little things that I do. Like how she only uses a blue toothbrush. Always has. And he won't notice the tiny scar that she has on her right middle finger from when we tried to make dinner together one night and she cut herself. He probably won't know that she wakes up at 3:34 every single night, because she hasn't been able to sleep fully and soundly through the night since she was four years old. And he'll mess up the way she likes her tea, using tea bags instead of leaves. (She like the herbal taste that you get when you use the leaves. And she likes when you do two scoops of them, and two scoops of sugar, but just cane sugar, the rock sugar makes it too earthy. And of course, she drinks it on ice because she hates burning her tongue with hot drinks.)

I'm thinking way too much as I get off the plane, reluctantly turning my phone back on only to see texts from just about everyone I know. They're all asking where I am, but I ignore them, because what I'm about to do is far more important than anything they threaten me with. I have to make things right.

Standing in front of this door that I've stood in front of hundreds of times should make me feel at ease. Remembering all the times I had her pressed against the other side of the door because I just couldn't wait to have her all to myself. But if anything, it's making me more nervous. So nervous that my hands are shaking, palms sweating, my breathing is jagged and I know if I don't knock right now I might never get the chance again and I can't lose her for real this time. So without giving myself the chance to rethink, I knock on the door three times and I wait, handing in the pocket of my hoodie.

I wait a solid thirty seconds, which feel like an eternity, before the door finally opens and I see my beautiful girl. Her face is bare, hair only halfway straightened, and she's in those shorts I love and my old Led Zepplin t-shirt.

"Shawn," my name still sounds like heaven spilling from her lips. "What are you doing here?" She crosses and then uncrosses her arms, shifting her weight from one leg to the other before standing completely straight.

I didn't even realize I was crying until I sniffled and heard my voice crack with just three words, "I miss you."

"Shawn," she shook her head.

"I tried not to," I insisted, still standing like a fool on her door step. "I swear I did. But I couldn't stop. I looked through all our pictures and texts, and I couldn't stop myself from missing you. And I know I have no right to because I broke things off. But I was in Paris and I was miserable because Paris was your favorite place, and that was where I promised to love you forever, and I'm still keeping that promise. I was an idiot," I continue to ramble. "If there's a better word for that, then I'm that too, because I thought it would be easier if I broke things off. This tour was going to be so long and to go that long without each other, I was scared that it wouldn't be enough for you. But it's not what I wanted, y/n. It's not, and I just-"

"Shawn, stop."

I shut my mouth instantly, ready for her to tell me to leave. But what she does instead throws me completely off guard. She pulls me into the apartment and wraps her arms around my neck, burying her head deep in my chest.

"I miss you, too." She mumbles and I exhale slowly, only to inhale that scent that I love so much. The scent that is naturally her. She starts to pull away, and even though I don't want her to, I let her but she only leans back enough to take my face in her hands and before I even have time to blink, her soft lips are on mine and I'm whole again.

She's mine again and I'm never letting her go.

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @shawns-badreputation @anamariel2301 @bbellbagel

This took me longer to write than it should have, but I kinda really like it. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you Wednesday for more content! 💙

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

[maesterkenobi]

how I run my blog

Tagged by: as usual I’ve stolen it from @mynameisanakin  Tagging: no one, i am too lazy and i follow like 14 people so. just do it if you want to.

SPEED: is not my forte. I try my best, but there are several factors that work against me in this aspect: 1) I’m a chronic procrastinator 2) I’m scatterbrained 3) I have more than one blog 4) I almost never write replies that are less than two paragraphs and I want it to make sense and be good and be enjoyable for my partner, so it takes time. I almost never reply the same day (MAYBE on discord, because there my replies are way shorter and it’s mostly to my best friend), and you’re lucky if I reply within a week. I really try to be faster on this blog because I made a promise to myself (and I was doing okay until the whole virus thing happened and I ran into a bunch of personal problems) AND I am keeping a low profile on this blog so it doesn’t get overwhelming. Long story short, if you are looking for a super active daily replies partner, I am not it for you. If you’re okay with waiting for a while but getting more developed stories and longer replies in turn, then we should talk :)

REPLIES: Are on the longer side on this blog. I don’t really have the patience for one liners because they tend to go nowhere and then feel like bread crumbs of randomness all over my blog. They’re okay sometimes, but more often than not they feel like crack. Writing replies is really exhausting for me sometimes, but I try to force myself because I WANT to do it, I’m just having issues concentrating on one thing at a time so it takes me forever.

STARTERS: I don’t write welcoming starters because 8 out of 10 times they get ignored or are so random that they lead nowhere. If someone writes me a welcoming starter, it depends on the content but usually I’ll try to make it work for me and reply. I don’t often like starter calls because most people write absolutely pointless starters. For example they’ll write a paragraph of explaining what their muse did all day (unrelated to my muse), then walk into some random place they’ve never been to (e.g. a shady bar) and suddenly get surprised by my muse being there, and/or, my personal favorite, say something like “what the hell do you want from me”? Which I struggle with for several reasons. One, if you create a setting but don’t bother explaining why we’re there, you put the entire weight of explaining that (aka creating the actual setting) on ME, but you add an additional complication by making it something that I didn’t come up with, so now I have to introduce a world YOU invented with 0 idea of why you chose that particular location in the first place. Second, you put my muse in a situation that makes no sense for them and again force me to explain that, without even giving me a good reason to. And third, I play very different muses, but most of them are going to lose interest in the conversation immediately if the first thing you say to them is rude af. So, yeah, I actually really struggle with most random starters. Please just plot with me and then I will love you forever for writing me a plotted starter that I know will not create 400 questions in my head that I then have to bother you with, which makes me feel like a nuisance. (Or at least keep the setting neutral? Or try to come up with something that seems reasonable for my muse? I always try to do that and when I am unsure, I message the person who liked my starter calls.) Speaking of which, I rarely post starter calls, because.. well, like I just kind of explained, it’s comes with responsibility and work. And I’m lazy.

INBOX: is open for memes at all times, and questions of any kind. I often don’t get notified, so I sometimes see certain messages months later - when that happens, I usually don’t reply anymore if they’re anon because I’ll assume that person forgot or isn’t even around anymore. Sorry about that! It’s an issue I’ve had on several blogs and I don’t know how to fix it. Anon hate is deleted without comment, unless I feel there’s a point in replying to it publicly, or if it’s entertaining. I don’t roleplay via inbox and therefore any “ic” questions or interactions posted in there will be treated as a one-time meme, if I can reply to them at all. Asks of sexual nature from complete strangers will usually be ignored because Obi-Wan isn’t the muse for that at all. As I’ve stated in my rules I only roleplay with mutuals and therefore won’t roleplay with someone I don’t follow, even if they ignore that rule and start rping with me via inbox. I don’t mean to be dismissive, but I have these rules for a reason and I ask that people read and respect them.

SELECTIVITY: I am selective with whom I follow because I have limited time and energy for this blog (and all my blogs) and therefore find it irresponsible and pointless to accept 600 followers and threads when I know I can’t possibly reply to even 10% of them. Before I follow someone (back) I look at their blogs; in particular at their writing (to see if I like their style and their portrayal), their rules (to see what they like/dislike and if our general understanding of the RPC, roleplay, and in a way social interactions in general go well together), and sometimes their OOC posts to get a feeling of how the other person is. (Obviously I also sometimes don’t follow back when I don’t know the muse or fandom at all.) Blog rules and ooc posts can say A LOT about a person, and there are plenty of people in the RPC (in any fandom) that quickly rose to tumblr fame with shiny graphics and fancy formatting and dozens of well-developed verses and headcanons, but they straight up suck as people outside of writing. My rules state very clearly that I discourage hateful comments, mob mentality and callout culture, and unfortunately many “popular” blogs use exactly these tools to execute their power (which comes from being admired for all the wrong reasons). So, I know many people think being selective means you only pick partners with fancy graphics and poetic writing, but for me it actually means I want decent human beings as partners. I don’t give a shit if you format your posts (as long as you cut them) or if you have a blog with a fancy theme, or just a rules google doc, or if you use icons or not. If I like your writing and you seem like a nice and reasonable person, I’m good to go. If you talk to me about dogs I’m even better to go.

WISHLIST: I always try to have one because I find it very helpful when looking for plot ideas with new partners. I will look at yours if you like a plotting call or something too, but I know not everyone has a wishlist~

HONEST NOTE: I’m not a teenager anymore and I’ve been rping for over 14 years. I work with lots of strangers, I study for a job with lots of strangers. I think about philosophical concepts a lot, about morality and human behavior and I’ve come to the conclusion that kindness, empathy and compassion are some of the core values every single person should focus on to make the world a better place. I have no patience and no interest in engaging in the absolute toxic and harmful hate movement that’s taken over this website (and other social media platforms) in whatsoever way. Occasionally I’ll make a salty comment about it, but only because I’ve had it up to here. I am here to enjoy fandom the way I used to, and the way it used to be meant to be enjoyed - not to completely ignore real issues like world politics, economical and environmental crises, in order to entertain witch hunts on people who happen to enjoy a fictional ship that isn’t 300% approved by puritan statutes of the 1600s. I am responsible for the content I seek out online, and so are you. Does it suck when I see something I dislike? Sure. Is it the fault of the person who posted it? No. Especially not when I read their rules first, like I’m supposed to, and they clearly state that the thing I dislike will appear on their blog. And even if they didn’t, it was my choice to go on their blog and look at their content. If you can’t handle taking responsibility for the content you seek out online, then you are probably not old enough to use the internet unsupervised. I am free to write, read, and post on my personal blog whatever I want, as long as I am not breaking the law. Liking a fictional ship that involves an age gap? Not illegal. Liking a fictional ship that involves siblings? Not illegal. Liking a fictional ship in which one party was abusive to the other at some point? Not illegal. Liking a fictional character who killed your fave? Not illegal. It’s fictional. Get over it. And if you really think that seeing fictional characters or ships online that YOU consider “problematic” is hurting people in real life, then you should join those politicians who burn books that are “corrupting the people’s morals and minds”, who ban video games because they “make gamers violent”, and censor songs from the radio because they “present biased views on people of public importance”. Please reflect on your behavior. Destroying someone’s life because they liked something you don’t, telling them to commit suic/ide, ruining their chance of making friends who maybe share their love for a ship or character.. that’s bullying. Some of the cases I’ve seen on here were so severe, they qualify as serious cyberbullying and should be reported to the police. I don’t give a fuck if you hate Rey/lo or Damon Salva/tore, or the Joker. You don’t go and send someone messages telling them to kill themselves because they RP it. Because that is the real crime. And finally, if you feel the need to “educate” someone you consider “problematic” for whatever reason and you actually approach them - make sure you’re actually there to educate and discuss, not to throw an opinion at them and get aggressive when they don’t immediately magically agree. Because chances are they won’t. If you choose to open a dialogue, make sure it IS a fucking dialogue and not a condescending monologue. Learn how to shape an argument, find evidence to back up your claims - because not only will you become better at talking to people in any kind of situation, you’ll also maybe realize that your opinion wasn’t as well-founded as you thought.

[mellz117]

Hello all and welcome to part 4 of my playthrough of KH2 on the PS2. If you haven't seen the previous entries please go do that.

[ _1_ ] [ _2_ ] [ _3_ ]

To recap: The Wonders of Twilight Town are boring as hell. We spoke to Namine again, Roxas finally realizes his life this week is a lie and starts to remember his life in the Organization. DiZ is racist against Nobodies but we already knew that. Roxas and Axel fight, I wanted to cry. Roxas meets Sora in his sleeping pod before disappearing, I wanted to cry.

And the adventure continues

I wanna know how Sora wakes up in the real world when Roxas merges with him in the virtual one. How in CoM does Sora go to sleep in Castle Oblivion, the whole-ass chamber and then some get transferred to Twilight Town, Roxas meets him in a virtual version of the mansion, and Sora wakes up in the real mansion in KH2? Nomura please explain this series. Is Final Fantasy ever this convoluted?

Donald and Goofy call out to Sora and we're once again reminded this is a Disney game. I don’t know why but the fact that Disney owns the original Kingdom Hearts characters bothers me. It means, unless DISNEY gives the OK, Sora will never be in Smash Bros. and that makes me sad.

I don't know much about comas but after a year of total inactivity, wouldn't your muscles atrophy like, A BUNCH? At least is wasn’t 7... OR VENTUS WITH A WHOLE DECADE WTF?

Again WHY COULDN'T JIMINY JUST KEEP EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN CHAIN OF MEMORIES WRITTEN DOWN IN HIS JOURNAL INSTEAD OF A CRYPTIC MEMO TO THANK NAMINE?

The trinity trio wanders out of the mansion, loot some chests, and find their way to the back alleys of town.

Hayner is rude RIGHT outta the gate, wow. Ok I remember that Pence actually met Roxas in Days, and so to me he seems to recognize Sora through his memories of Roxas despite the two sharing like, one visual similarly: blue eyes. But KH3 to my understanding reveals that the virtual versions of characters affect the real version so I dunno!! WHAT IS THIS SERIES?

"Have you finished the summer homework yet?" Olette asks Sora and his two ANIMAL COMPANIONS as if seeing two anthropomorphic animals is fucking normal in a town comprised entirely of humans and exactly one moogle.

Sora doesn't have any homework. For over a year he's been away from home and his mom couldn't make him go to school. I wonder how she's doing? Does she miss her son? Kingdom Hearts and parents don't gel.

I like how.. When Pence describes this cloaked figure who was looking for the trinity trio, as having big, round ears, they have to think about who it could possibly be. They’re not too bright.

Why is “sofa” capitalized? Also they weren't even sitting on it, neither of them were!

HAYNER IS A RUDE BOY! He tells us so ask Seifer about the town, as we are new. Bruh, if you’re this rude to us I’m sure how much worse Seifer and his posse are.

Seifer is immediately confrontational. “You here to pick a fight with us?” and Sora’s all like “No, we’re new here.” and DONALD FUCKING DUCK! INSULTS SEIFER AND NOW EVERYONE’S READY TO THROW DOWN! THANKS TO THIS DUMB FUCK DUCK!

But thank Christ big chungus appears out of nowhere and stops the children and two adult furries from causing a scene.

This dude is WAY too into the Struggle tournament. Seifer has an unwanted faaaaan! Bro, go away, you’re creeping on a teenager.

I wanna fight Seifer.

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I'm not working on this like I should be. I'm going on vacation soon and since we're all in quarantine I can't really do anything fun so this is the opportune time to catch up.

Moving on! We make our way to the train station and oh no, we're ambushed by Dusks! Because of COURSE we are. Who could've seen THAT coming? /s

I- I like how, even after hearing his voice, and seeing his fucking mousey silhouette, the gang STILL might not be sure this is their stupid rat king. One brain cell between the three of them, I swear, and Goofy is the primary carrier, and it only sometimes works.

Why do we need to purchase tickets to travel on a magical train embarking to an ethereal plane of existence? I guess it's the principal of it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED TO HUG THIS BOY. LOOK, HE'S CRYING!

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Pence is so cute. I didn't care much for him when I was younger but he's such a cutie. 

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I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED TO HUG THIS BOY. LOOK, HE'S SAD!

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It's fat cat Pete. For like ever, I had no idea he was a cat. Wonder what Maleficent saw in him to ally with him.

The trinity trio laughing about killing (or at least taking part in killing) Maleficent. "She's toast!" this sure is early 2000's dialogue...

Heartless everywhere! "You mean the worlds aren't at peace after all" well, no sweetie. It takes time for things to recover from horrible events. *looks at current state of the real world*

So like, I had no idea Yen Sid was a Keyblade warrior??? I had read about that in his Wiki page when I googled if any Keyblade warriors were left handed. (Ven might be, but more likely ambidextrous) But I guess being Mickey's teacher would imply his Keyblade wielder roots but whatever, I didn't pay attention when I was a teenager.

Yen Sid's decor is baffling. What are these bookshelves? What are these BOOKS? They're huge!

Good on Yen Sid for using singular “they” pronouns in 2005.

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On to our change of wardrobe. Without a doubt Sora's best look in the whole series, in my humble opinion. Lookit my handsome boy. 

And Sora learns about drive forms, blah, blah, blah, powerful forms, gotta sacrifice something like in Duel Monsters, in this case an ally.

Yen Sid is so boring.

All seriousness and tension is just broken as soon as Goofy’s name is uttered, at least Sora and Donald have normal names wtf.

It’s interesting how like, 15 years later, Union X explains how Maleficent was able to return after her defeat. Something about, as long as someone from your original time remembers you and you have a physical object to represent you you’re able to basically some back from the dead. Right? Am I right on that? I haven’t played it but I’m hanging by a thread on this loop.

Sora’s hard work down the drain...

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Hollow Bastion! And of course there’s trouble. Heartless, Nobodies, and Yuffie, oh my!

A problem sequels have to work around is when the protagonist needs to relearn their abilities. KH does a well and good job with this one. In CoM, it’s a different battle style, in KH2 Sora’s been asleep for a hear prior.

Also, Merlin “leant” Sora some magic spells? How does that work? Like, once you learn it you can’t just... give that knowledge back...?

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How old is Leon? He has no right being this pretty.

Another ambush by Nobodies. Give it a rest, would ya? Battle ensues, Leon deals the final blow against an enemy, and as the camera usually does, zooms in on the victor and we get a nice slow-mo crotch shot of Leon. Thanks, game... Then, Xemnas’s very sexy, very manly voice echoes across town and the organization appears before our protagonists. I’m weak.

Demyx’s laugh, dude. I love it. Sora is ready to throw hands with anyone in his way. Honey, you’re barely out of a magic coma and this dude is like, two whole feet taller than you. Not to mention very fit.

I’m done thirsting over Xemnas...

After a few taunting words, the new villains depart, Donald attempts to give chase somehow? Where you gonna go? They disappeared behind dark corridors. It seems Goofy is still holding onto that shared brain cell.

The Bastard

I like the majority of the Organization. Xigbar is definitely one of my favorites based on this next scene alone. He’s so snarky and full of shit. I love it. He’s great. He was definitely a stoner at some point.

I’m confused though. “He used to give me that same exact look!” the Wiki says Xigbar’s talking about Ven but I always thought he was referring to Roxas? Did Braig and Ven have a history? That’s implied in Days (which released before BbS) IDK dude. I’m surprised I’ve gone this long without spoiling myself too much on BbS. Like, a few story beats here and there but a lot of it isn’t gonna be known until I play it.

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The dialogue for KH2 was so different from the first game. It dates itself so much in comparison.

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Xiggy stands like this for 7 whole seconds parting with a condescending “Be a good boy now!” before disappearing. I love this fucker.

Leon, who’s been sitting on the sidelines this whole time, joins Sora and the others after the real threat is gone. We chitchat for a little bit and say our goodbyes. It’s time to leave this place and move on to one of two available worlds.

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At the Beast's Castle. After fighting a hoard of Shadows, the least intimidating enemy in the series (although the demon tower in kh3 is quite frightening nlg), the Beast himself makes his appearance, takes out the Heartless that suddenly stop multiplying upon his arrival, disgracefully shoves his supposed friends aside, and takes his precious rose to the west wing, which is where it SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN THE FIRST PLACE. ADAM WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

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No joke one of the funniest actual gags in the whole series is:

*Donald Duck manhandling Cogsworth*

Cut to Sora saying "I'm glad you're OK." to Lumiere

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OK the minigame where you gotta light the magic torches, why do we have to make sure Cogsworth  has enough strength to keep the lever down when we have two perfectly capable companions that can hold it down instead? I remember this sequence being a lot more annoying when I was a teen.

Xaldin's voice makes me feel things. Ahhh he sounds so tired lol. He peaces out and we fight the Beast. I remember getting him to calm down being harder.

"Xaldin used my anger to control me!" Says Beast. He angers very easily so this must have been a cinch. Xaldin's been obsessed with him since Days so I would imagine this intel would come in handy.

More fodder to fight and on to the boss. Phase one is just an angrier version of the Darkball Heartless. Phase two is just skinny Ganon. I like its design though.

“Belle, I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself, being all rude and overall kind of a jackass to you and my servants” Except that’s kinda how you’ve always been lmao. Just because you couldn’t choose not to be an ass here doesn’t change that this IS in character. Still gotta work on that a bit.

“You don’t have to apologize” No, no he still does.

They all reconcile and the Trinity Trio departs until Xaldin shows up again to wreak more havoc.

Time to move on to the next world.

[vmheadquarters]

When the Veronica Mars fan-funded film was released in 2014, no one could have predicted it would help to usher in a trend of revivals and reboots and remakes that would come to dominate Hollywood. And certainly no one could have predicted the series, a neo-noir about a teenage private detective in its original form, would be returning again five years later, this time as an eight-episode limited series on Hulu.

And yet the show's refusal to accept defeat feels like a perfect encapsulation of the spirit of Veronica Mars herself. Brought to vivid life by Kristen Bell, Veronica always gets back up. She plays by her own rules, never allowing herself to be content with or conform to the status quo. She's never what you expect, and she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. Along with her sparkling wit, these are her most admirable traits. But as with any revival, one has to wonder what the end goal ultimately is.

The feature film funded by fans through a Kickstarter allowed series creator Rob Thomas to craft an ending where there previously wasn't one. A parade of familiar faces, it was heavy on the nostalgia but light on the intricate, well-paced mysteries that originally set the show apart. This new chapter in the Veronica Mars saga doesn't serve the same purpose. It's not a trip down memory lane or an extended coda; it's an opportunity to test the waters and find out whether or not Veronica Mars still has life left in her. The world of television has changed a lot since the series first debuted on UPN, and although audiences might not have been ready for her then, they very well may be now.

Hulu is referring to these eight new episodes as Season 4 rather than simply a limited series, and while that doesn't necessarily mean anything, we can't discount the fact this is the second time the show has returned from the dead or that Bell, whose NBC series The Good Place will be ending after this upcoming season, and Thomas have both already expressed an interest in continuing Veronica's story beyond what we see here. The stakes are infinitely higher now than they were five years ago when the film hit theaters. The new season has to appeal to longtime fans as well as potential new ones. This ultimately means the overarching mystery at the heart of the season has to be strong enough to carry the weight and then some. The story has to push Veronica forward in a meaningful way. And for the most part, it succeeds.

When the show returns, Veronica is still working alongside television's No. 1 dad, Keith Mars (Enrico Colantoni), as a private eye in her hometown of Neptune, California. She and Logan (Jason Dohring), who is still in the military (and remains incredibly handsome), are still together and have adopted a dog named Pony since we saw them last. They're happy and stable, but Logan's job often takes him away suddenly for weeks or months at a time. While he's constantly moving, Veronica is more or less standing still. And she appears completely content with her life. But when a series of deadly bombings hit the town during the month-long celebration of spring break and threaten the city's tourism industry, and thus the livelihood of Neptune's quickly disappearing working class, Veronica dives headfirst into solving the case.

The class divide of Neptune, with the working class pitted against the town's rich elite, was built into the foundation of Veronica Mars, but when Veronica was in high school, it often played out through Veronica's status as an outsider. She didn't fit in with the popular crowd, known as the 09ers, because of Keith's wrongful accusation of the Kanes in the wake of Lilly's (Amanda Seyfried) murder. But she also didn't fit in with the working class because of her former association with that same rich crowd. In 2019, with Veronica now in her 30s, the class warfare manifests itself differently. Veronica and Keith are still hustling to make ends meet as private eyes — Veronica is hesitant to take any job that won't pay them well and drives up their retainer whenever she can — but a pointed C-plot also finds Keith, who is still struggling in the wake of the car accident that occurred in the film, attempting to navigate our country's broken healthcare system as a member of the have-nots. It's familiar social commentary for the series, but it's perhaps even more relevant now than it was in 2004.

So when bombs start going off, putting many of the businesses that rely on local tourism in jeopardy, like a rowdy nightclub owned by Kirby Howell-Baptiste's Nicole, Veronica naturally starts digging. Technically she and Keith have been hired by the family of a congressman whose brother was injured in one of the bombings, but Veronica is interested in the case for other reasons too, namely Matty (Izabela Vidovic), the daughter of a divorced single father who dies in the first explosion. The show takes every opportunity to remind us Matty is a lot like a young Veronica, for better or worse.

The ensuing investigation, which plays out over the entire season, puts Veronica on a collision course with Penn Epner (Patton Oswalt), a local pizza delivery guy with a true crime obsession, as well as a few familiar faces from the original series. They include Weevil (Francis Capra), who's back in his criminal element after being framed by the sheriff's department in the film and taking an out-of-court settlement in Mr. Kiss and Tell, one of two canonical books published after the film; Leo (Max Greenfield), who now works for the FBI and continues to have sparks with Veronica; Vinnie (Ken Marino), whose office is a strip club because that's the logical next step after a van; and even Liam Fitzpatrick (Rod Rowland), who's still a scumbag and may or may not be involved in planting the bombs. Eventually, the case leads Veronica to none other than Big Dick Casablancas (David Starzyk), who seems to have suffered very little from his time in prison. Now cozied up to a man he met on the inside, Clyde (the always excellent J.K. Simmons), he's attempting to transform Neptune from a wild spring break destination into an elite and idyllic seaside community only the rich can afford.

This is a Veronica Mars that is both familiar and new. As Bell and Thomas promised, the new season is a different beast from the show that initially ran for three seasons on UPN and The CW in the mid-2000s. It's been described as more adult and as "hardcore So-Cal noir," and although it's difficult to imagine a scenario for Veronica that is worse than her own rape and the murder of her best friend as a teenager, the series somehow manages to go bigger and darker and create a more dangerous atmosphere, complete with increasingly dire consequences. In the process, it also evolves into a show about Veronica's emotional stagnation.

A running thread this season finds Logan pushing Veronica to go to therapy so she can hopefully begin to cope with her trauma rather than continuing to ignore it. He credits his therapist with helping him manage his anger — Logan might have evolved and matured during his time in the military, but he's still Logan — but Veronica repeatedly refuses, insisting she's fine. Of course, anyone with a working set of eyeballs can obviously see that Veronica is not fine, that she's been hardened by everything that has happened to her over the years and still suffers from the trust issues that have plagued her since her high school days. It's not entirely clear if Veronica is even happy working as a P.I. in Neptune or if that's just what she thinks she should be doing. All the same, Logan is determined to help Veronica, and after seeing plenty of men on TV struggle in this same way, seeing Veronica face these challenges instead is a welcome role reversal that still feels completely in character. In fact, everything that occurs between Logan and Veronica throughout the season is well done, completely thought out, and true to both characters.

But for all the good, and for all the fun it is to return to Neptune and watch Veronica continue to be smarter than everyone around her, the new season isn't without its faults. A major twist near the end of the season feels like it belongs in a different series entirely, like it was added more for shock value than anything else, and I worry about its lasting implications and how it might affect the possibility of another season. If it's an attempt by Thomas and the writers to convince Hulu to grant the series more episodes to explore the aftermath, it's a big swing, and not one I am sure will pay off.

It's unfortunate that one bad decision in a sea of good ones can so easily color the rest of a finished product, but there's a very good chance that is exactly what will happen for many fans. If they can get past it, there absolutely could be life left in Veronica Mars. For most of the season, the show is a lot of fun, balancing its well-honed sense of humor — many times at the expense of fan-favorite character Dick Casablancas (Ryan Hansen) — with Keith and Veronica's powerful family dynamic and a sometimes predictable but nevertheless engaging central mystery. There were many times throughout the season I found myself wishing Kristen Bell would never stop playing Veronica, that we never stop getting to spend time with what might be one of the best and weirdest supporting casts on TV after FX's Justified (another series I would kill to revisit in the future). And to an extent, I still feel that way; Veronica is one of the most competent characters on TV. After 15 years, she's now an old friend, and I'd rather spend time with her than most anyone else. But after these eight episodes, I also won't be surprised if this is the end of her story, and if it is, it's a somewhat disappointing one.

All eight episodes of Veronica Mars debut Friday, July 26 on Hulu.

[what-inthe-goddamn]

If you do these types of asks, how about fo4 companions react to a SS who is a witch? Like if you displease them you’ll end up cursed, and their allies always seem to be having good days? Stuff like that if you don’t mind.

Thank you for this ask and I am eternally sorry that it took this long to complete, but it’s just in time for Halloween! You officially get one (1) free punch to use on me for making you wait this long.

Ada: Scavengers in this wasteland were another kind of scum: making her salvaging trips more competitive as good components were hard enough to find without them trying to snatch her good finds while she wasn’t paying attention. One day a scavenger tried to take one of pristine military circuit boards she had found that day and she finally had enough. Sole noticed her arguing with the scavenger over the stolen item and decided to step in herself, flicking her finger downward subtlety in the scavenger’s direction. After a moment the circuit had slipped out of the scavenger’s hands, promptly falling onto his foot. He yelled out in pain: allowing Ada to pick it up as Sole chuckled softly. As they moved onto the next area for components Ada couldn’t seem to process what had just happened. The scavenger had a perfectly fine grip onto the circuit until Sole had stepped in. Did Sole…? No, Ada wouldn’t even give the thought of Sole having any sort of powers, that was just nonsense.

Cait: While Cait liked bars and drinking at them, she never had a good history with the other customers at them. Drunk drifters picking fights with her or sleazy men trying to sneak a grab seemed unavoidable, but she knew how to handle them. A few harsh words and a slug to the face usually did the trick.  However, this particular man at the Dugout wouldn’t stop asking to buy her a drink or pay attention to him. Cait was about to beat in her next “No” into him when Sole peeked her head from besides Cait and told the dude to fuck off. The mean gritted his teeth and snapped at Sole, asking her to mind her own business. Sole frowned and waved her hand at him. A second later the drink he had in his hand slipped and spilled onto what seemed to be his only half-decent shirt. “Motherfu…!” the man growled, sulking as he walked off to deal with his shirt, shooting a glare towards Sole before walking out the door. Cait snickered, jokingly asking Sole if she was witch or somethin’. “Would you believe if I said yes?” Sole replied coyly. “Ah, probably.” she laughed. “But I’d probably believe anything ya told me right now, I’m very drunk.” Sole giggled, and Cait realized she might not have been joking. If Sole really is a witch, Cait would think that’d be pretty cool. Imagine all the shenanigans they could pull off!

Codsworth: Back before the bombs dropped Codsworth had the must beautiful flower bushes around Sole’s house. But when she left the poor little plants just couldn’t seem to hold on and all died within a week due to the fallout. He tried his best to bring them back, but to no avail. Once Sole had returned 210 years later though, Codsworth was more than ecstatic to see her! He regrettably let her know about the state of their garden, but Sole just smiled and asked him to check up on the flowers once she had a moment. While she and Codsworth surveyed the wrecked garden of their old home, she turned over the soil where the flowers once grew. At first the Mr. Handy was skeptical of this approach; Sole hadn’t even replaced the flowers! But Sole assured him that they would come back in time. A few days later, Codsworth casually hovered into the backyard, not expecting a full garden in bloom! The daises, the roses, the pansies; all were their swaying softly in the wind like they had never died! Codsworth brought this great news to Sole, who grinned brightly and asked to see them. As they marveled over their rejuvenated garden, Codsworth couldn’t quite come to a reasonable conclusion on how this could have happened. Could Sole have some other worldly spell craft? “I have reason to suspect that you possess supernatural abilities mum.” Sole chuckled, inspecting a small patch of daisies. “I knew you’d find out eventually, Codsworth.” It seemed that his suspicions were true. Since before the war he had these thoughts but had never really brought them until now. He decided to leave it at that and just enjoy the garden with her.

Curie: Curie was more than ecstatic to have her own herb garden; a gift from Sole. But alas! Apparently, Curie didn’t have a green thumb, and the plants were dying within a week! No matter what remedy she tried, her plants didn’t seem to come back to life. She had hoped so much for this garden, the medicines she could’ve made with these! She concluded that she was better formulating the plants into medicine rather than growing them. Curie finally asked Sole for help, seeing as how she didn’t want the garden to waste away after she was so generous to make it for Curie. Sole inspected the plants, the soil, and the water that Curie had been giving them. Sole then removed a small pouch, grab a pinch of some sand-like grain and sprinkled it into the soil of the planters. “Give a day or two and it should work.” Sole said confidently before leaving. Curie waited patiently, continuing to water the plants as normal. When she came in the second morning, the plants had grown twice their expected size overnight! Curie called over Sole immediately to see the miracle. “What did you put in there mademoiselle?!” “Oh, nothing special…” Sole grinned softly, giving Curie a small pat on the back. “Let me know if you need anything else Curie!” She walked off, leaving a very amazed Curie behind who began to harvest the herbs joyfully. This was no simple science, Curie had thought to herself. Could Sole have possibly have access to some kind of magic? There could be no other explanation, but she decided to ask Sole herself that question later. “I’ve come to the conclusion that you may be a-“. “A witch?” She was cut off by a grinning Sole. “Yes! I have so many questions!” Curie had never heard of witches outside of books and the odd tale the old scientists back at Vault 81 used to tell. She was grateful for Sole’s eagerness to answer her questions, she was fascinated by her!

Danse: Being boots on the ground and trekking across the commonwealth with Sole had its perks; but it came with the occasional danger and injury. While he was mostly unscathed after a recent fight, his arm had suffered a graze from a laser rifle’s shot. Usually a stimpak was a quick and easy fix for this, but upon looking in his and Sole’s inventory showed that they had already used their last stimpak. While the wound wasn’t a fatal one, they were about ten miles from the closest doctor or med-supply. Danse saw Sole think to herself for a moment before pulling out a rag and a bottle of water. “This’ll take some of burning away for bit.” She pressed the damp rag onto his arm, the cool water temporarily taking away the stinging sensation of the burn. They planned out their next path to a town, so they could resupply, seeing that the closest settlement was Diamond City. Danse preferred not traveling on foot with an injured arm, but Sole had already stated she had no flares for a vertibird. Danse suddenly realized the wound on his arm wasn’t hurting at all and asked Sole to remove her hand for a moment. When she took of the rag from him the burn wound had amazingly almost healed completely! “What was in that water?’ he asked, his eyes still glued to the healed wound. Sole chuckled, “Nothing, just water.” “This hasn’t happened before, did you…?” Sole met his eyes with a playful wink, stuffing the rag back into the bag and stood up. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” She began to walk off, Danse following behind, a confused expression still on his face. There was no obvious explanation for what had just happened, but he wasn’t ungrateful for that small miracle. “I’m asking this off the record here knight; are you…?” “A witch?” Sole had caught him off guard with her abrupt answer. “I know of the history of Salem and its infamous witch trials. But I honestly thought it was just ludicrous.” A small grin showed up on Sole’s face. “Not going to report me to the magistrates, are you?” A hearty laugh came out of him. “No, your secret is safe with me.”

Deacon: This was the tenth repair to his boots Deacon had to make this month. He’d throw them away if a better pair was available, but he didn’t have such luxury in this wasteland. The soles were falling off, the laces withering away each day, and more and more it seemed he had to fix on it. No amount of thread and stitching could keep them from falling apart it seemed. Deacon sighed to himself as he was trying to stitch the sole back to one of his shoes when Sole came into the Railroad bed bunks. “Again Deacon?” she asked nonchalantly. He let out a half-assed laugh, drooping the shoe and needle down in front in front of him. “Unless Fallon’s department makes a comeback with some solid footwear, this is all I have to work with.” Sole took up his weathered shoe and needle, inspecting the tears on it before starting to stitch herself as Deacon watched her. After finishing the first one, she traced her finger over the new stitches; then picked up other shoe and started the process again. Deacon sighed, leaning his head back against the wall and closed his eyes for a bit. He opened them at Sole’s soft nudging. “Here ya go.” She passed him back his boots. He took them and thanked her before taking a quick glance at them and set them down next to his mattress. He froze and looked at them again. All the tears and rips and weathering were completely gone. The original insoles were back in there too! His eyes snapped back to Sole, who had a sheepish grin on her face. “I’m not sure if I should thank you or report you to the local magistrates.” he kidded. Sole rolled her eyes, laying back onto her mattress and told him to get some sleep. “You got a spell for that, boss?” “GoodNIGHT Deacon.” “Night boss.” Deacon jokingly put his fingers up into a cross as he bunkered down as well. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Dez’s and Carrington’s faces tomorrow when he told them.

Dogmeat: Sole had noticed that Dogmeat was very lonely at Sanctuary; he was only dog there and none of the settlers besides Preston and Sturges seem to want to play with him. So, she came up with the idea to set up dog houses with spare food in hopes of attracting another furry friend. But a week went by and Dogmeat was still wandering the settlement by himself. Finally, she decided to set out an extra plate of dog food, this time sprinkling a special spice she blended from the herbs in her garden. Dogmeat watched her excitedly, feeling lucky that a new friend would show up anytime soon. The morning after that, Dogmeat woke up to a giddy little retriever sniffing around his dog house. A new friend! The two canines rushed into Sole’s house to wake her up, who happily patted both of their heads before she gave the new dog a collar. Dogmeat was overjoyed at the fact that he wouldn’t be stuck by himself whenever Sole was gone now. Now while Dogmeat wasn’t quite wise enough to sense that magic was being played into this happy event, he knew something has always been different about Sole. Maybe that’s why he likes her, besides the numerous treats she gives him daily.

Gage: Tempers were getting fiery within the Disciples gang, seeing as how they were pissed at how the new Overboss hadn’t given them any territory yet. Gage suggested to Sole to meet with Nisha and doing some small tasks: just to stay on her good side. On the way up to Nisha’s room in the Fizztop Mountain, a Disciple woman snarled at Gage, threatening a loss of another eye if they didn’t shape up soon. Gage shrugged it off, feeding into their remarks only made it worse. Sole however snapped back that they should watch who they’re talking to. Gage tried to get Sole to disengage with the woman, but she stared down the raider anyway. “What are you gonna do about it?” the disciple laughed. Sole then turned up her nose at her, her eyes unwavering. The bar that was holding up the raider leaning on it suddenly snapped, and she toppled down onto the ground 20 feet below, a scream escaping her before her body crashed onto the hard pavement. Everyone in the room was silent for a moment, then snapped their eyes onto the Overboss, including Gage. Sole shrugged, “Shouldn’t have been leaning on that. Things break.” She resumed walking up to Nisha as Gage followed behind cautiously. What just happened? Gage wasn’t one to be superstitious, but he decided it would be a good idea not to piss his boss off anytime soon. “Geez boss, you gonna put a curse on everyone who pisses you off?” Gage joked when they got back to the Fizztop Grille. “Maybe.” She scoffed taking a seat at the bar, a sarcastic smirk plastered on her face. “Not exactly good for business; and keep it to a minimum. Wouldn’t want to have to suffer through a witch trial.” “Jackass.” “So, I’m right?” he asked. “Yeah, just didn’t expect you to figure it out so soon.” “Hard not to when people start ‘falling’ accidentally.” Gage received a soft punch to his arm for that.

Hancock: Keeping loan sharks and the threatening sort away from newcomers to Goodneighbor was an ongoing duty for Hancock. While some of the drifters bothering visitors was an easy fix with a simple few words or a loose threat, an occasional one would try to start a fight with him. That’s fine, Hancock as no stranger to that sort of thing. But he much preferred to keep the peace. However, a certain drifter was trying to corner the latest newcomer into giving them a handful of caps for a “visitation tax”. He sighed and told the drifter to give the new guy some space. Apparently, they were not one to be bossed around; taking out a knife and glaring down the mayor. Sole appeared to Hancock’s side, warning that the drifter not to try anything. The drifter charged at Hancock anyway, only an arm’s length away from him before suddenly tripping on thin air and crashing into the ground. The drifter was groaning out in pain, in which Hancock realized the idiot had somehow managed to fall onto his own knife. He glanced briefly at Sole, who had a small smirk on her face, suggesting they call over Dr. Amari. Hancock stood frozen for a moment as she walked off. He wanted to think it was just pure luck that got him unharmed, but something told him it had to do with Sole. “Should I invest in a cross or two?” he joshed as he and Sole plopped down onto his couch. “That’s for vampires, dumbass.” She lightly punched him in the shoulder, “Invest in a bible instead, or just make sure to stay on my good side.” Hancock hooted at the thought of that. “So, when were you gonna tell me you were a broom-rider?” “Really?” she scoffed. “Potion-maker?” “John.” “Crystal ball-reader?” “I swear to god.” Hancock now had a new list of jokes and puns just for her. Couldn’t wait to use them all or until she has enough and turns him into a frog.

Longfellow: This godforsaken island didn’t have much to do, so Longfellow usually passed the time with fishing. Sadly, the fish didn’t seem to be biting this month. No matter how much bait or chum he dropped into the water, not a single fish was taking a bite. He was just about to call it a day when Sole had made her way to his shack, sitting next to him on his self-made pier. “No luck?’ she asked. He sighed, throwing another line into the water. “Gonna starve at this point if nothing show’s up.” Sole took a handful of bait and stared at it for a moment, before muttering a word or two and dropping it off the pier. Longfellow was just about to snap at her for wasting good bait when he felt a tug on the line. He immediately started reeling it in. A fish the length of his entire arm was wiggling from the hook. Longfellow let out a cheerful shout as he took the fish from the hook, a rare gleam in his eyes. “I don’t know what kind of magic you just pulled of girl, but holy hell!” Over dinner he asked her simply, “You a witch?” “Suppose so.” Sole casually shrugged, a sly smirk etched onto her face. “Thought my gran was a witch once when she started to claim the devil was talking to her. Turned out she was just jumped up on psycho.” He glanced up at Sole, jokingly asking. “You’re not cahorting with demons, right? I’ll accept spell craft and the occasional chanting, but demons are where I draw the line.” “No demons, promise.” He sat back in his chair, giving her a nod. “Then I see no problem.” Personally, Longfellow had no quarrel or underlying fears with other worldly magics. He’s seen enough weird shit to last three lifetimes, so Sole was still an okay fella in his book.

MacCready: It had been a very hard week, unable to pick up any jobs with Sole even though this had been the third town they’ve been to. No bounties, no raider problems, heck not even a simple errand to do. At least bunker Hill had the small bar, so he and Sole could pass the time drinking. They sat down at Joe Savoldi’s bar and ordered a couple of beers. MacCready reached into his bag to grab a few caps. His eyes went wide as he realized the pack of caps he had in there was gone. He checked a second time, then a third. Sole asked him what was wrong, leaning over towards MacCready curiously. Mac looked up and blankly told her he lost all the caps. Joe muttered to himself, shaking his head as Macready dumped the contents of the bag onto the counter until it was completely empty. Still no sign of their money. Sole asked him to give the bag to her, looking through the pockets of it herself. Macready held his head between his hands as she looked, eyes boring into the counter. That was a whole month’s worth of pay! “Here it is.” Sole said triumphantly, taking a small pouch out of the bag. How? MacCready emptied it out completely!  Joe begrudgingly took the caps and told them not to pull that shit again. Sole popped of the cap of her Gwinnet and took a sip as MacCready stared at her in disbelief, before turning to his own drink. How? Maybe he just didn’t look hard enough… He was too nervous to ask her then, but later on popped the question when they were back on the road. “Do you know magic?” Sole exhaled, “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m…- “. “A witch! I KNEW it!” MacCready shot his fists up into the air triumphantly, causing Sole to stare at him in confusion. “You… What?” she quizzically raised a brow, not expecting that sort of reaction. “I knew it! Cait owes me 20 caps!” Sole just stood there, mouth agape and unable to add anything. MacCready was giddy all the way back to Sanctuary, asking her a million questions. “Can you turn people into animals? Do witches actually not drown? Why don’t you have a hat- “. “No, I can’t. Witches can drown; that trial was stupid. And I don’t have a hat because that’s a stupid stereotype, plus it’s not like they’re easy to find.” MacCready thought for a moment before asking her if she can make him taller. “Another stupid question and I’ll take a whole foot off your height.” He didn’t know if she was kidding, but he still thought it was cool nonetheless.

Nick Valentine: Brotherhood of Steel was an unwelcome sight for Nick, he didn’t care for them. He wished those assholes would just stay in their blimp, but apparently it was inevitable to find them, even in Diamond City. He just wanted to ask around the market if anybody had seen a missing person that recently came up in a case, but a couple of tin-clad soldiers stopped him and Sole and asked if he belonged here. “I live here jackass.” Nick snapped at them, turning back to Arturo as Sole shot the soldiers a cold glare. “You watch your tone when speaking to the Brotherhood, synth.” Nick almost said something else to the soldier, that is until Sole snapped her fingers, her glare unwavering. The soldier unexpectedly lost balance and fell over, thudding onto the ground. It took a good ten minutes for the other soldier to help them up. Meanwhile, all of the Diamond City market, including Nick and Sole, was snickering. The two soldiers huffed and stomped out of the market, Nick’s smile seemingly permanently etched into a grin for the rest of the day. Valentine asked Sole if she had done it, only receiving a coy smirk from her. Huh, Sole was always the shocker. Nick honestly wouldn’t be too surprised that she was a witch or something supernatural; he’s seen weirder things in life. He didn’t need to pry more out of her.

Piper: Piper had just about had enough of Mayor McDonough. This is the third time this week she was locked out of the front gate of Diamond City! Luckily Sole was there again with her. Sole convinced Danny to let them through, or else they’d be hearing from the Minutemen. Once they walked into Diamond City they were stopped by a very upset Mayor McDonough. After he and Piper argued for a bit Sole finally stepped in and told McDonough he should consider apologizing to Piper. “As if!” he barked as he made his way to the stairs and lift to his office. Sole whispered a few incomprehensible words as she bore her eyes into to the back of his head. Piper raised a suspicious brow but thought nothing more of it then an idle threat. That was until the mayor slipped on the second step of the stairwell. He stood up hurriedly, composed himself, and continued up the stairs, only to slip on the fifth one. Piper burst out in laughter, which resulted in a quick but angry glare from McDonough. Sole had a sly smirk etched onto her face as Piper tried to find something to grab onto, so she wouldn’t fall over in her fit of laughter. And it didn’t stop there. For the rest of the week the mayor just couldn’t seem to do anything in peace. The noodles he bought at Takahashi’s stand burned the roof of his tongue so bad that he had to go see Dr. Sun; the day after that his favorite hat flew off his head and into the mud. Then when he gave a speech that Thursday it spontaneously started to rain, which cut off his microphone and ruined the ink on the speech papers he was reading off from. Piper had a small inkling that Sole had something to do with this. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’re the one giving McDonough a hard time.” She questioned Sole back at her home. “Is this a complaint?” Sole replied. “Hardly,” Piper took another piece of gum out of her packet, handing it to Sole. “It’s a sincere thank you, from me and probably most of Diamond City.” “You gonna ask how I did it? I feel like I’m being interviewed.” “Nah, I’ll save that for the next issue; ‘McDonough Faces Hard Times After Exchange with Supernatural Vault Dweller!’”. Regardless, Piper hadn’t laughed so much in years.

Preston: This rain hasn’t let up in days. Preston missed the blue sky; only gray clouds have been swarming the atmosphere. Sole walked up to him taking shelter in one of the doorways of the Castle. “Been some pretty dreary days, huh?” Sole commented. Preston nodded, “Was hoping to take a stroll around, see how everything’s shaping up.” He sighed sadly, Sole taking notice of the solemn look on his face. “Be right back.” She walked out towards the courtyard, face turned up to the sky. Now why would the General just stand out there? Preston was going to call her over to come back in when the rain started drizzling away. Preston stood frozen in the doorway, mouth agape with shock as Sole turned back to him and chuckled; “Much better!” She beckoned him over and he happily stepped out from the doorway, and accepted Sole’s offer to walk around the walls of the castle. When they got to the shore near the east wall Preston begged her to tell him how she did that. “Did what?” “You know! Made the rain go away!” he said. She just shrugged,” Special little gift I got.” “You a witch or something?  Like from the Salem Museum?” “Suppose you could say that.” Preston looked out into the water; he didn’t expect witches to be an actual thing. “Can you cast a spell to make the Gwinnet kegs refill?” he jokingly asked. Sole just snorted, “For you? Sure.”

Strong: Strong is tough. But not tough enough against power fist to head. Head hurt, ask human to make head stop hurting. Human thought for a while and said hold still. They put hand on Strong head and did nothing. Why human do nothing? Strong grumbled and thought human was being stupid. Suddenly Strong no longer have head pain. “How human do that?” Human say, “Magic and a good spell.” Strong ask what ma-jick is. Human tried to explain but Strong still confused. Oh well, at least head no hurt no more.

X6-88: X6 was never easily scared or frightened. Heights, lightning and Justin Ayo however got to him. Especially Ayo during his screaming fits when things go wrong. Another synth had been lost during X6’s last recapture mission, a failure on his part. Acting Director Ayo was a force to be reckoned with when he was infuriated, especially when that anger was directed towards synths. X6 tried to remain his composure when Ayo threw the report into his face, the man’s shouting could be heard through out the Institute. The exit doors of the Retention Bureau slid open, and a very vexed Sole stomped into Ayo’s office. “What’s the meaning of this?!” she snapped at Ayo, stepping in front of X6, her eyes burning a hole into a now petrified Ayo. “Th-this unit- “Ayo stammered. “You mean X6? He has a name.” X6-88 kept his eyes on Justin. “Identification… He lost a very valuable target and I-!” Director Ayo stopped in his tracks, his hands dropping the remaining pages and cowered down onto the ground. X6 glanced worriedly towards Sole, whose gaze had not broken from the man in front of her. She was whispering incoherent words that X6 couldn’t pick up. Ayo stood up weakly a second later, refusing to look Sole or him in the eye. “You treat him respectfully next time, or I’ll be dealing with you personally.” Ayo gave her a shakily nod, scampering to pick up the papers off the ground as Sole led X6 out of the room. A final wave of her hand in his direction made the door slam shut as they exited, causing a few nearby residents and workers to stare in shock. She sat him down at one of the benches near the center of the complex, a heavy sigh escaping her body. “I’m sorry you had to see that ma’am.” X6 solemnly tugged at the sleeves of his jacket. Sole sighed, “Not your fault he’s a jackass.” X6 couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “How did you do that?” “Do what?” she scoffed lightly. “You know; he just shrunk down all the sudden. I’ve never seen him so scared. And the door?” X6 knew the other coursers would’ve gotten a laugh at the sight of Ayo quivering like a child, not that they would do so in front of him most likely. “Would you believe me if I told you?” “What did you do to him?” he asked. “Just scared him a little. He won’t be bothering you again.” “Are you saying you have supernatural abilities Sole?” He never imagined witchcraft and curses to be more than an absurd land dweller’s story. “Just don’t tell.” She winked at him playfully, getting a rare smile out of him. After that X6 never seemed to have a problem with Ayo. One less thing he’s scared of. Now if Sole could stop the thunder during storms that would be well appreciated.