#and I think that people would laugh at this portrait and Doc would get like really sentimental and be like

[weaponizedmoth]

The Venture Family Group Photo (Hank, Dean, Rusty, and Brock) 😁👏

Bonus with Mr. Reachy ;3;" (I have no idea for Adding this for the venture family photo ^^")

(I usually make these B&W but I wanted to go all out for this one).

[heavenlymorals]

I feel like a lot of people forget that the Van Dir Linde gang was actually famous in their universe- Dutch Van Dir Linde was as famous as the real life Butch Cassidy. The gang had as much infamy as the Wild Bunch or the Dalton gang. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Bill Williamson, Javier Esculla, Lenny Summers, Charles Smith, Sean McGuire and more were probably as famous as the real life Doc Holliday, Jesse James, Black Bart, Rufus Buck, Ike Clanton, the Sundance Kid, Wild Bill Hickock, and more.

Sadie Adler would've been just as famous. She was a gunslinger like the real life Calamity Jane and Anne Oakley and she was an outlaw at one point like Laura Bullion, Pearl Hart, Belle Star, The Cassidy Sisters, and more.

The other women of the camp would've probably been less popular but still very intriguing figures to people in the future.

In the newspapers, we see that there are songs about Dutch's boys and books too. Trelawny mentions them being on dime novels. In the future, the pieced together story of the Van Dir Linde gang might've gotten adapted into a movie, similar to "Butch Cassidy and the Sun Dance Kid" or "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford". They could've gotten biopics, documentaries, and more.

Historians and fans of the wild West era would dig up records, find pictures, and maybe even track down people who were apart of the gang, accomplices to the gang, or victims of the gang. They would try to piece together stories to figure out the mystery of what actually happened to the gang.

People would argue over things that happened in the gang and have their evidence to back it up. Letters written by gang members would become so valuable. If they ever someone come across Arthur's journal, it would probably be considered one of the most valuable pieces of documentation to ever exist for that time period.

The guns of the gang would probably be kept in museums if found. Albert Mason's portrait of Arthur Morgan would be found in history books, same as other pictures.

Dutch would probably be a very controversial figure in history- some would hail him as a failed hero and others would condemn his violence no matter the reason- they wouldn't know what the people in the gang knew- especially in the end. Same with the rest of the gang members.

They'd probably all get romanticized. Hosea and Dutch's friendship, the raising of the boys, Dutch and Annabelle and his fued with Colm, Mary and Arthur, John and his family, Javier being a revolutionary- no one would know the full story.

And then there is Jack- he may live to see the 1960s and 70s and 80s. He may have grandchildren who'd pull him into a theater to watch a retelling of the gang that he was a part of at one point. He'd be amused. He'd think that the actor playing his father was too clean looking, too pretty. He'd think that the movie Arthur was too skinny. He'd think that the man playing Dutch had a funny voice as he tried to mimic the accent. He'd laugh and make notes in his head of the historical accuracy. He'd feel sorrowful at the deaths of the characters- he knew them at some point. And no one at the theater would know that the old man with the rowdy bright eyed boys who brought him there was Jack Marston, the last of the Van Dir Linde gang.

Jack might talk about it to the public. He might do interviews. He might even write a book about his father, the infamous John Marston. Those would be priceless. Even Beecher's Hope might be kept around and visited as a historical site for history goers.

And honestly? It is such a bittersweet thing.

[karimwillia]

Part 2

Warnings: Fluff

Riri makes it to class and with no issue it’s time for lunch. Her and MJ walk past the huge portrait of Shuri that hangs in the foyer of the school. The banner always showcases the student of the year. “Ri so spill I was hearing the rumbles about what happened in Doc Stevens today.”

Riri turns auburn red. “Ugh why is this place so huge but rumors spread like the population is 2. We got assigned new lab partners. No biggie.” Riri tries to play off her fluster. “Girl you are a terrible liar. I know you got paired with Shuri!! Omg! I know you died.” Riri was getting hot now.

She reached and grabbed MJ. “Shhh no not really but what could have killed me is she was flirty today.” Pausing a moment, MJ was stunned. “Girl Shut Up! Flirty how!?! I knew y’all was kinda cool but not like that.” Ri breathes and calms down.

“Ok you know I’m not the best at social stuff but she spoke to me when we stood up. Just saying how it’s been a while and that she missed me. Then she said we have to talk outside of school more so she locked her number in my phone.”

MJ screams laughing. “Yo she was hard body flirting. Omg! Friend, what if she likes you?” Riri twists her face. Sure she can think that during the moment but Shuri is a naturally flirty person. Riri has seen it 1000 times. She winks and smiles and calls all “cute girls” sweethearts. It’s her thing but for them it was new.

“Michelle Jordan I am the last person she is interested in. I’m not like these other girls she has been with. I’m not the tall model type. She’s nice to me because we are school friends.

MJ’s face falls to a frown from a goofy wide smile. “Ri do you know you are beautiful and I’m sure Shuri sees that. Plus that is not the same as how she flirts with others.” Riri is so red now as she thinks it over. “Ugh help MJ how am I supposed to do this? My brain hurts, and you know how I get anxious.” MJ stops her right there. “No I’m not accepting that! You talk to her all the time and you are just fine. What is the difference now?”

Riri and MJ have settled in the bleachers of the gym as people play basketball and chat around them. “Ok when I lack confidence that’s when I struggle.” MJ listens and she grabs Ri’s hand. “You have to be more confident in yourself then. Friend you are a baddie under these 2 size to big hoodies. Intelligent, funny, kind and humble. Anyone is lucky to know you girl. That’s the attitude you need. It’s senior year and you have never been to a dance or done a school function. We are fixing that!”

Taking out her iPad MJ opened the notes app and sat back. “We are making a senior year bucket list. The ultimate to-do list for this school year.” The girls talk back and forth while MJ creates the list. “M this is ridiculous, I am not a total square. I have done some stuff.” “Yep all academics and school related trips. This list is to break you out of this shell you put yourself in. You are only young once.” Riri is kind of hesitant. But is MJ right? Ri was always a student first. That was the priority. In reality she was scared of being social because it was unpredictable. She could not prepare, she just had to be and that is terrifying.

The girls complete the list and it feels good. There is just one problem.

“MJ how am I supposed to get invited to things or go on a date? No one knows me.” MJ smiles and winks looking out on the court. Shuri is taking a deep 3 point shot. She had been playing for most of lunch getting distracted every so often looking up at Riri.

Riri’s eyes widened at the realization. “No no no no. I don’t want to ask her.” MJ’s smile is neurotic. “Listen! What harm would it cause? Ask her for help and you never know you two may fall in love.” Riri contemplates the words. “Oh my…God”

A custom buzz comes through on Riri’s phone that she’s never heard. Who is texting her at this time a day. Her Mom is at work, her Sister is at work and MJ is with her. A name pops up: “Daddy Panther🖤✨” Shuri was texting her…The conversation was cute but stopped after a short exchange.

MJ snatches the phone and looks at it. With a holler. “Ooooooh you mean to tell me you think she puts that in everyone’s phone!?” Riri shakes her head. Good lord maybe this is not a one sided crush.

@somethingcleaverandwhitty @mal-urameshi @shuriris-stuff

[rainandhotchocolate]

Black Dog

A/N So this is literally just pure fluff - I was sick af this week and wanted some sirius black comforting me as a dog so I wrote it I HOPE OTHER PEOPLE ALSO LIKE THIS cause this is totally self indulgent lelel 

Enjoy! 

(8k, Sirius Fluffffff, descriptions of an injury & depression)

A large black dog sat on Y/N’s leg, leaning against her knee. A lot of students had seen it around lately, someone’s rogue and prohibited pet roaming Gryffindor tower at night. For many it was a comfort, wandering around to cheer people up as it seemed to sense when someone was sad or extremely stressed, but Y/N had also heard that it would lead you down to kitchens in the dead of the night and help bring back extra treacle tarts.

A tear had found its way down and into Y/N’s mouth, salty and hot against her skin, her breathing hitching slightly as she tried to calm herself down. She hated crying. Well, crying in front of others anyway. She knew there was a different kind of bravery in being able to show your emotions to others but there was always something pulling her back, telling her to hide at all costs.

The dog nuzzled itself against her leg, and she moved on the couch to make room for it to sit up next to her and lay its head in her lap.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” She laughed at the dog, tears still making tracks down her face, “I hate crying for no reason, it’s like I’m constantly searching for a reason, I should have some terrible illness or problem that means I’m allowed to be upset. But no, my brain has decided I’m just sad.”

Y/N dug her hands into the fur along the dog’s neck and head, scratching lightly. She’d found herself getting more tired lately, wanting to do nothing but sleep and sleep. But now, in the middle of the night, of course, she couldn’t.

The big black dog had been joining her most nights this week, curling up against her leg or in front of the fire, listening to her talk or watching her move around her watercolours across a page, swirls of colour and water dripping onto the carpet. Sometimes they just lay across the carpet in front of the fire, the dog sleeping on her stomach or legs as she drifted in and out of sleep.

This night seemed different, however, the dog had refused to stay still, moving around every few minutes as if to make sure she stayed awake.

“Ok, what’s up, puppy?” The dog growled at that and Y/N laughed, “Ok, large giant manly dog, what are you doing?”

The dog finally jumped up and off the couch, nudging its head into the back of her knee so that she had to stand up as well. She groaned, joining him and watching a little exasperatedly as it ran towards the portrait hole and then looked back at her expectantly.

“Ok, ok,” Y/N shook her head but followed anyway, grabbing her jumper and pushing open the door, hiding quickly in the dark so that the Fat Lady didn’t spot her. Y/N could hear her yelling whose there! in her scariest voice as she slipped out of sight.

They moved carefully through the darkness, the dog led her down hallways Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever been down before, behind small paintings and passageways that seemed to come into focus when the dog moved across the floor in a certain way. After what felt like an hour, Y/N started to feel a cool breeze trickle down her neck and she realised that they were just beside the small courtyard. The dog slipped through a small dog and Y/N followed him out into the stone covered the courtyard that was beginning to sprout small flowers in between the cracks and along the walls.

Y/N silently thanked herself for bringing a jumper, pulling it over herself as the dog seemed to prance across the stone floor and towards the grounds.

“Slow down, not all of us are completely awake right now.”

The dog huffed but slowed to an almost comical pace… no, just slowed. Y/N shook her head, she was reading human emotions into a fucking dog. She followed the dog out into a clearing, a little way down from the Whomping Willow, that overlooked the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The black dog pawed at the bottom of a tree to Y/N’s right before curling up underneath it. Y/N joined him, letting him rest his head on her lap once more.

The night breeze had faded, leaving just the warm air that smelt like flowers and Hagrid’s cabbage patch wafting over towards them.

“Well this is very pretty,” Y/N murmured, scratching the dog behind his ears and grinning as it pushed its head back involuntarily into her hand, “I was brought here before you know? In first year, I completely forgot.”

A memory had pushed itself forward, of a boy with dark hair gripping her hand tightly and dragging her along the river and towards the large oak tree they were now sitting under.

“Sirius Black brought me here, he was sure that there was going to be a comet shower and we had to go see it.”

The dog seemed to jump at the name, looking up at her before shaking its head and lowering back down and onto her lap.

“You know that name huh? I hope he’s not your owner, that would be supremely awkward. Though to be fair it would be like him to bring in a prohibited animal into school,” Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes.

Sirius and herself had been friends back in first and second year before he’d grown into himself, his hair curling down the nape of his neck as he rebelled against haircuts from his parents, wearing tight flare jeans and leather jackets to Hogsmeade weekends in third year. They’d drifted apart, Sirius spending more time with his guy friends, wanting to talk about girls and dung bombs, and Y/N’s little crush had faded into the background as she became friendly with the other girls in her dorm room.

She couldn’t help hating how her heart jumped a little bit every time he caught her eye, smiling and always being the first to look away.

“Well if he is your owner tell him he’s a dolt for dousing the common room in snow, I know it was him.”

The dog seemed to look amused. No, not amused, it was just looking at her. Y/N desperately needed some sleep.

“Ok, come on doggo, I need to actually go to sleep for once,” She felt herself yawning, and grinned down at the dog, “Thanks for the adventure, it seems to have made me tired.”

They wandered back up and into the castle, the dog again leading her down small passageways and hidden corridors to avoid any teachers or Filch prowling the hallways. The dog ran ahead when they were at the corridor leading onto the Gryffindor Tower, and somehow made the Fat Lady open the Portrait Hole before Y/N had edged towards her point of sight, grumbling loudly about insubordination.

She crept into the common room, praying that it had remained empty, and letting out a deep sigh when she saw that it was.

“Well, goodnight lil fluff,” Y/N grinned as it growled lightly at her again but nuzzled his head along her leg all the same. She gave him a final scratch on the head and neck before walking towards the girl’s dorm room, falling asleep almost instantly.

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

Y/N woke up to a startled shriek, jumping up quickly and pulling open the curtains surrounding her bed. She was surprised to find that the sun was streaming through the windows and the rest of the girls in her room already dressed and pulling on sandals.

“Ok who on earth screamed,” Y/N groaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and slipping on her the soft slippers sitting under her bed.

“Yeah sorry I just spilt coffee on my date outfit and I have nothing else planned out and I’m currently panicking,” Dorcas sighed, still staring at the large brown stain dripping down her white blouse.

“You have a million clothes,” Marlene rolled her eyes, already picking through her clothes, “And a million white tops, I honestly think you have an inability to buy colour.”

“I look good in shades, leave me be.”

“Wear the white dress!” Marlene pulled out a mini dress that had been stuck underneath the piles of winter clothes Dorcas had packed away months ago.

“Ughhhh, no.”

“Yes!” Lily came over to Marlene, grinning widely, and picking the dress out of Marlene’s hands to hold it up to the rest of the dorm.

“Strong yes, also who are you going out with?” Y/N rummaged through her drawers to pull out a pair of linen shorts and t-shirt.

“Eloise, that Ravenclaw girl who Dorcas stares at every morning,” Marlene threw the dress at Dorcas who scowled and held it up to herself in the mirror.

“On the Quidditch team, yeah?”

“Yep, smart and fit, the dream combo,” Dorcas waggled her eyebrows at Y/N through the mirror before turning around and sighing loudly, “Ok, but no one is allowed to comment on the dress all day.”

“Cross my heart,” Lily acted out her words in mid-air, turning back to lacing up her docs. Eventually, the girls filed out of their dorm room and made their way to the Hogwarts exit point. Filch was standing and growling at everyone who past, aggressively poking a dark magic detector towards each person before they were allowed to get through.

“I don’t know who would be dumb enough to carry dark objects into Hogsmeade,” Marlene rolled her eyes, lining up for Filch to glare her down.

“I’d say it would be more of a worry what they are getting in town,” Lily muttered under her breath, eyeing a dark-haired Slytherin who had hissed back at Filch as he tried to pat him down.

“Filch is checking us going back in too,” Y/N watched as Filch finally let Snape through, begrudgingly, and he joined the group of Slytherins waiting for him. Lily’s attitude didn’t seem to lift, so Y/N took another angle, “So are we meeting James?”

“In the Three Broomsticks,” Lily said, as casually as possible, but a slight tinge of red had crept up onto her cheeks and ears.

“What is this, date number 10?” Dorcas grinned at her, “And all you’ve done is kiss, huh?”

“We’re taking it slow.”

“Or you’re just not telling us all the juicy details.”

“You know that you would be the first to know if I had any juicy details to tell,” Lily knocked Dorcas’ elbow, smiling at her, “Anyway, I don’t want to be making a big deal out of it.”

“But it’s a bloody huge deal!”

“Exactly my point.”

“You’re no fun,” Marlene poked her tongue out at her, and looped her arm around Y/N, “I guess us lone wolves will have to make our own fun.”

“Yes, please find me something fun to do,” Y/N leaned into Marlene’s shoulder, watching the line slowly trickly forwards.

“Well there are plenty of pretty boys around for that,” Marlene winked at her, scanning the crowd forming with Filch’s very slow process, “Even some that seem to be staring at you.”

“What?” Y/N followed her gaze to see none other than Sirius Black turning quickly away to face Remus and Peter. Y/N frowned, perhaps that dog was his. Did he see them last night?

“I highly doubt staring is the word to be used there,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “We haven’t exactly spoken recently.”

“Ahh, the heart is a fickle thing,” Marlene said sagely, stepping up to Filch who poked her aggressively and then waved her through. Once Filch had seen that they weren’t carrying anything that would potentially curse or kill anyone in Hogsmeade, they made their way down the hill towards the small village.

Y/N had always loved Hogsmeade, in all weather, but there was something about it in Summer when everyone was wandering the streets and a light summer breeze would rustle its way through the main road in a way that felt like she was being wrapped in a blanket. It somehow felt more magical to her.

The girls made their way towards The Three Broomsticks, Marlene whispering the names of all the cute boys they passed who might be very available for Y/N. Y/N couldn’t help but snigger along with her, even though her mind had drifted back to Sirius’ grey-blue eyes watching her in the courtyard moments before.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded, as expected, with the end of exams and most teachers finishing up their work. Rosmerta was almost slinging butterbeer at anyone who managed to reach the bar, and had three extra waitstaff sliding through the tables across the pub.

“Can anyone see a table?” Marlene scowled at a boy who had shoved passed her to find a table himself and he backed off.

“I’m going to melt into the floor if there isn’t, I am not going to Madame Puddifoots, that place is a hellhole,” Dorcas groaned, searching the floor for empty chairs lying about.

“James has one!” Lily was already walking towards them, waving at James with a giddy kind of smile on her face. The rest of them trudged after her, avoiding the patrons holding steaming mugs of butterbeer and other assorted drinks, towards the large back table where James and his friends were sitting.

“How on earth did you get this table?” Dorcas looked both amazed and relieved, sitting down on the edge of the table so that she could continue to look out for Eloise.

“Got here hours ago, it’s the last trip into Hogsmeade it’s always hectic,” James was grinning, clearly very proud of himself, and slung an arm around Lily, giving her shoulder a little squeeze, “I grabbed you a pint already but I wasn’t aware we’d be graced by your friends as well, sorry!”

“Well I guess you had to officially meet them at some point,” Lily smiled up at him, and Y/N felt a pang in her stomach. It would be nice to look at someone with that much happiness.

“We’ve known them for seven years,” Marlene laughed, still standing and holding onto Y/N’s arm, “We’ll get the rest of the pints, come on.”

She dragged Y/N away quickly, expertly pulling her through the crowd and up to the bar.

“Why did you and Sirius drift apart anyway?” She turned to Y/N, head crooked to one side.

“I told you, we just got older and stopped having the same interests,” Y/N shrugged, “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just always think there was more too it,” She held her hands out and pulled three mugs of butterbeer towards her as Rosemerta began sliding them across the bar, “you know he’s like always staring at you.”

“Well now I know you’re lying,” Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing her own pint of butterbeer as they began to walk back, trying not to spill anything.

“You can’t not have noticed! If anything I can’t see why you drifted apart if you both clearly care for each other, even just a little bit,” Marlene gave her a look, the one the gave when she was making sure that you actually listened to her and stopped being a prat.

“I honestly don’t know what to tell you, Marls,” Y/N lowered her voice as they got to the table, “We just stopped hanging out.”

“Mmmmm,” Marlene hummed but said nothing further. She passed a mug to Dorcas and sat down next to Peter and Remus.

“Has Eloise arrived yet?” Y/N ignored Marlene’s continued watchful eyes, sitting down in the only place left, between Remus and Sirius. She took a big sip of her drink.

“Her friend just came over, she’s running a bit late but will be here soon,” Dorcas beamed, her nerves getting the better of her as she began tapping the edge of her butterbeer mug. Sirius had leaned back into his chair, and Y/N could feel his eyes on her shoulder but she continued to ignore him. She wasn’t really sure why she was ignoring him, it’s not like he’d done anything to hurt her, but it felt like if she turned to face him her face might become a ripe tomato.

“Have you planned out your afternoon then?”

“Of course, drink here, then walk over to the shrieking shack, see if I can’t get her a little scared and a little in need of a hug,” Dorcas winked, earning a laugh from James and Sirius.

“That’s very sly, I like it,” James nodded in approval, “Might try that on you sometimes.”

He turned to Lily, grinning wickedly.

“I’m very sure it would be you who’d need a hug.”

“That works fine for me too, Lils,” His grin widened and Lily seemed to be unable to do anything but smile back at him.

“What about you, Y/N, any big plans for the afternoon?” Y/N felt like she could hear his voice separately from the others, as if they were somewhere else, alone. She cleared her throat, steeling herself before looking at him with a cool expression plastered across her face.

“No plans, though Marlene wants to find something fun to do that doesn’t require us watching James and Lily snog all afternoon,” Y/N gave an innocent smile to Lily who growled at her.

“Perhaps you’d want to join us?” Marlene chimed in, a similar smile on her face, eyebrows raised at Sirius, “You two as well of course.”

She nodded to Remus and Peter.

“I never really enjoy seeing James’ tongue,” Remus’ face remained blank but his eyes were twinkling as he looked over at Lily who was blushing furiously.

“I actually hate all of you,” Lily buried her head behind James who looked thoroughly pleased with her reaction.

“Well I’m definitely in, I need to stop by Zonko’s though,” Sirius responded, eyes darting over to Remus’ who returned a knowing smile.

They finished their drinks and bid goodbye to Lily, James, and Dorcas who barely looked up from watching the door intently. Y/N took in a deep breath as the summer breeze wafted across her face, feeling it warm up her skin.

“Nothing like the Scottish sun,” Sirius grinned at Y/N, “I honestly think the sun feels the best here, because we get so little of it across the year.”

“Definitely,” Y/N smiled a little giddily back, feeling the sun warm the back of her head as they made their way towards Zonkos.

“So what do you need in Zonkos huh?” Marlene gave Remus and Sirius a sidelong glance, “I would have thought you’d be banned from bringing things back by now.”

“We have our ways,” chirped Peter from behind them, sticking his head through from behind Remus with what he must think was a mischievous smirk.

“Why does that sound worse than the idea of being pranked on our last few days of school?”

“Because it is,” Remus shook his head at the two boys who were now whispering, heads bent together.

“I thought you would have taught them better Mr prefect,” Y/N teased him, holding open the door for the group to pile into the already very crowded Zonko’s.

“There’s a reason I had the head boy badge taken from me,” He winked, nodding in thanks as he passed her and wandered towards what Y/N was sure was fireworks. The boys hid their purchases from Marlene and Y/N who decidedly ignored them, wandering the aisles in search of anything that could be fun for the summer holidays.

“Never know when you might need one of these,” Marlene elbowed Y/N repeatedly as she held up a love potion, making Y/N giggle.

“I definitely, don’t need one of those.”

“Oooh, a confident Y/N, I like her,” Marlene put it down, trailing her fingers across the shelves. Y/N felt someone���s eyes on her back but refused to turn around until the boys called their names to get them to leave.

“Anyone keen to sneak up on Dorcas?” Marlene linked arms with Y/N again.

“You just want to see the haunted shrieking shack,” Sirius cooed, moving his hands in front of her as if he was a ghost, “It is really haunted you know, I’ve heard the screams.”

“So, have I,” Peter grinned, following Sirius’ actions as Marlene began to lead the way. They trudged up the hill and towards the clearing where there was the best view of the derelict house. It always seemed to look worse and worse every time Y/N came to see it like it would fall over at any moment.

“Want a closer look?” Sirius winked at Y/N, “Or are you a bit too scared something might come out of the dark.”

“Don’t need you goading me Mr Black,” Y/N smiled at him, “You know I can’t handle scary stories, let alone a giant haunted house.”

“Ahhh come on, I’ll protect you,” He grabbed her shoulders quickly, “If I can.”

“Stop it, you dork!”

“You two are killing me,” Marlene rolled her eyes, snorting at them, “And anyway, Dumbledore said specifically that someone nearly died down there. I’m all for an adventure, but I’d like to graduate and you know, maybe fight in a war rather than die from a loose floorboard.”

“Smart girl you are,” Remus nodded at her, but Y/N swore she saw a flash of anger cross his eyes, “I for one am perfectly happy staying up here, not dead.”

“Hear hear!” Y/N grinned up at Remus, “the prefect is back.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon mucking around the area around the Shrieking Shack, Sirius taking them up to this giant hill that overlooked almost all of Hogsmeade and the castle. On the way down, Y/N felt herself slip, catching herself on a rock that jutted out beside her.

“Fuuuuuuuuuucckk,” Y/N moaned, feeling her hand cut open with the force of her landing, her but likely covered in dirt and also aching.

“Shit, are you ok?” Sirius had come up behind her, grabbing her by the waist and swiftly picking her up and off the ground. The rest of them had already trekked farther down the hill and hadn’t heard her swear.

“Yeah, I am, it's bloody typical of me. The one day I bring out the sandals we go on a small hike,” Y/N snorted, shaking her head and trying to stand on her feet. Her knee buckled and she fell back into Sirius who gripped her tightly, his arms wrapped around her torso.

“Thanks, sorry,” Y/N winced, both from the pain and a little out of embarrassment.

“Don’t stress at all,” He smiled at her, “Lean on me, for the rest of the way down ok? I don’t want you toppling over and breaking your leg again.”

“Oh my god I can’t believe you would bring that up,” Y/N shook her head in amazement, “that was completely your fault!”

“Hardly!” Sirius hooked his arm around her back and hoisted her upright so that Y/N could test her leg whilst they continued the walk down. Y/N couldn’t help but lean into him, feeling his chest pressed up against her shoulder blades and… shut up, you idiot.

“You decided it would be a great idea to make the final staircase to the Great Hall a waterslide.”

“Oh yeah… that was kind of my fault wasn’t it,” He grimaced, chuckling, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s ok, you carried me around for a week. And I think you got me a bouquet of chocolate frogs! Fuck, I forgot about that.”

“Has been a while hasn’t it,” Sirius became slightly quieter, Y/N itching to turn and see his expression but she was too worried about making sure she didn’t bleed across her white shorts. They continued the rest of the journey in silence, Y/N slowly taking her weight off Sirius as she stretched out her leg and the muscle began to take on more pressure.,

“You lot took ages, doing anything fun?” Marlene was picking at her nails, sitting on a large rock and leaning against Remus who had pulled out a book.

“If you call gashing open your hand and bruising your sit bones fun, then yes, I had a wild time.”

“You cut your hand?” Sirius glared at Y/N, “Show me.”

“Alright, calm down,” Y/N barked a laugh at his concerned expression, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Yeah that’s not fine,” Peter had come up to them, watching as Sirius opened her fist revealing a large gaping hole in her hand.

“Ok I think I might faint,” Y/N felt a rush of blood coming up to her head as she took in the pain and visual all at once, “I’d been clenching it the whole way down the hill so I didn’t bleed on myself, I didn’t think to look at it.”

“I’ve got something to calm you down,” Peter smiled at her, grabbing his large rucksack and pulling out a small dropper, “open your mouth, two drops of this and you’ll be fine till we get you to Madame Pomfrey.”

“Do you just carry this stuff around with you?” Marlene peeked her head into his bag, frowning.

“He’s obsessed with potions,” Remus smiled at Peter warmly, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was best in the year,”

“I’m not that good, I just find them interesting,” Peter blushed a bright red colour as he put the stopper back into the bottle and pocketed it, “Let me know if you feel like fainting again.”

“Will do,” Y/N felt a wave of calm come over her, her knees buckling again as every muscle in her body seemed to relax.

“Yeah it might do that if she’s never had it before,” Peter winced, “Sorry I forgot to mention.”

“No worries,” Sirius leaned down and picked Y/N up, bridal style, “This is much more fun anyways.”

“Sorry, Y/N!” Peter squeaked again, looking like he accidentally poisoned her.

“It’s fine,” Y/N smiled giddily, “I wish I could have you around more often with your little potions bag.”

Y/N curled herself into Sirius’ body, slightly aware that her inhibitions had likely been lowered given her lack of care for revelling in the closeness of their bodies but she didn’t care, or more likely she probably couldn’t care. He brought her back up to the castle and straight to the hospital wing, calling loudly to Madame Pomfrey as he laid her on the closest bed to the exit.

“Yes, what is it, Black,” Pomfrey snapped, and Y/N got the impression that she didn’t enjoy seeing Sirius in the Hospital Wing, “oh!”

“Yes not me this time I promise, Y/N fell in Hogsmeade, she’s opened up her hand,”

Sirius curled open Y/N’s hand slowly, and Y/N winced as the nerves around the gash seemed to fizzle.

“Mmmmm, that’s a nasty cut, I’m glad you brought her to me instead of trying to heal it yourself, she’d have a hell of a lot more nerve damage,” Madame Pomfrey pulled out her wand and sat beside Y/N who looked at her nervously.

“I’ve learnt from my mistakes,” Sirius winked at her, sitting on the other side, his hand still on her shoulder. Y/N concentrated on that as Pomfrey began hovering her wand around the wound, muttering softly, and suddenly could feel the entirety of her hand moving, the nerves reattaching around the tendons. Y/N wanted to puke.

“Not very comfortable, but you should be fine in a few hours, you’ll just need to wear a small brace for a day to make sure nothing else happens to it.”

“Ok,” Y/N gritted her teeth, wishing she’d asked for something for the pain from Peter as well as her wound began to close slowly.

“There! All done, just wait here whilst I grab you a brace, and no leaning on it today or tomorrow, ok?” She gave Y/N and Sirius a stern look before standing up and heading to a large cupboard next to her office.

“Feeling ok?” Sirius asked, his thumb rubbing circles against her shoulder blade.

“Now that she’s stopped pulling my skin together, yes,” laughed Y/N, smiling at him, “Thanks for bringing me by the way, I hope I didn’t stop you getting your Zonko’s stuff back into the castle.”

“Oh don’t worry, Peter was in charge of all that,” He gave her a smirk but said nothing more as Madame Pomfrey returned with a rigid looking brace. She put it place for Y/N, showing her how to re-do it in the morning and bid them goodbye.

Sirius and Y/N walked back up to the Gryffindor Common Room in relative silence, Y/N feeling the calm slowly wear off her and the embarrassment of being carried into the castle by Sirius Black settle back in.

“Well, I’m going to read and avoid using my hand for the next 24 hours,” Y/N smiled a little awkwardly at him as they stepped through the Portrait hole and into the common room. He smiled at her, standing still momentarily as they both seemed to panic over how to say goodbye. Eventually, Y/N held out her hand as Sirius went to hug her.

“Wow, we really are out of sync,” Sirius laughed loudly, shaking his head.

“Why don’t we just nod curtly and leave,” Y/N grinned but felt like she was actually just baring her teeth at him.

“Deal.”

They nodded at each other and walked in the opposite direction, Y/N to her dorm and Sirius to the large window that overlooked the grounds.

That evening, once the sun had finally gone down around 10pm, Y/N made her way out into the common room, wanting to be by the fire as she read. She wasn’t surprised to see the large black dog had taken up residence by the fire already, curled up in a ball. He looked up when he heard her, wagging his tail.

“How are you doing, pup?” Y/N smiled at the large dog that had come across the common room and lay down on the carpet in front of the fire.

“I had a good day today,” She hummed lying down on the couch, leaning her head against the edge, curling herself up into the cushions so that she could keep her feet warm.

“I saw your owner today, Sirius,” She watched the fire flicker, placing her book underneath the couch as she began to feel tired, “Haven’t actually spoken to him in a long while. It was nice, felt like old times.”

The dog jumped up and curled himself against her stomach. Y/N felt herself begin to drift off, one arm curled to her side and the other draped lazily across the black dogs’ torso.

“In fact, I even got him to carry me the whole way home,” Y/N snorted, “You should have seen me, I think I was as red as a tomato. I’m very glad he didn’t say anything. Or perhaps if I’m lucky he didn’t notice me mortifying myself as I drooled over him.”

She felt herself wake, without opening her eyes, wanting to curl into the warmth of the couch and the sun shining on her skin. Y/N moved slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position for her arm that had seemed to have remained unmoving whilst curled into her side, and had begun to ache. She went to pull it out from under her and stretch it out towards the fire but instead, she hit something solid and warm in front of her.

Y/N flung her eyes open and saw a large figure covering her view and shrieked, jumping upwards, pushing the figure off the couch along with the couch cushions. She landed a little painfully on planks of wood and springs that made up the inside of the couch.

The figure yelped as they landed on the floor in a heap, rolling over and groaning in pain. Y/N struggled to pull herself out of the couch’s grips, hopping up to face whoever was lying on the floor in front of her.

“What on earth,” The heap groaned again, wincing lightly as they sat upright, rubbing the places where Y/N presumed they had landed moments ago. Y/N caught herself before she let out a gasp.

“Sirius?” Her eyes were wide, staring down at him. He winced again, sitting on his hip and heaving himself upright.

“Yes, what’s – oh, shit,” Realisation dawned on his face as he looked down at himself and Y/N looked immediately up towards the ceiling.

“So why on earth were you naked and lying with me on the couch?” Y/N continued to stare at the ceiling as Sirius searched for something to cover himself with, settling on a small cushion that had also gone flying in Y/N’s panic.

“I uh, fell asleep with you…” His eyes tried to meet hers but moved to the window behind her when she stared back in confusion.

“You, but,” No fucking way, “YOU are the dog?”

“Well, yes,” He smiled very sheepishly at her, eyes apologetic.

“You’re an animagus?” Y/N hissed at him, both shocked and a little frustrated. How long had she been hanging out with this dog, with Sirius? What had she said to him?

“Not so loud, I don’t know if you noticed that no one else knows this,” He looked around carefully, taking a step forward as if to put a finger across her mouth but thought better of it.

“For how long?”

“About three years.”

“You’ve been an illegal animagus for THREE YEARS?” Y/N couldn’t stop her voice from increasing in volume and Sirius gave her another pleading look.

“Why, why didn’t you tell me? Why… why?” Y/N stuttered, feeling her cheeks flush as she remembered talking to him about… himself.

“Well it’s a little lame,” Sirius rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “I saw you here like two months ago, reading a letter from your parents. I remember you used to talk about them being a little uptight about being a witch and well anyway I wanted to say something or do something to make you feel better but… I don’t know we hadn’t spoken for so long and I just…”

“I just didn’t know how you would react if I just came up and asked you what was wrong, I mean if it was me I probably would have told you I was fine and ran away as fast as I could,” He laughed, a little nervously, still avoiding her gaze, “I didn’t even really think about it, I just turned, and then you looked so happy to see me and I don’t know, it felt like I cheered you up…”

He faded off, giving her a sheepish smile.

“And then you just decided to hang out like that every evening?” Y/N felt like she was processing a thousand bits of information at once.

“Oh uh, well, I didn’t always know your schedule. So I sort of just hung around like that. It turned out kinda nice though, getting to cheer people up during their exams. One girl tried to feed me birdseed though, that was disgusting,” His face grimaced from the memory, but Y/N was still stuck on what he had first said.

“You were waiting for me?” Y/N replied slowly, feeling her stomach begin to churn.

“Right, uh, I mean I wasn’t trying to stalk you or anything! You just haven’t seemed yourself lately, I wanted to help in some way.”

“You know you could have just come up and asked me what was wrong,” Y/N laughed at him, but it came out significantly more high-pitched than she’d anticipated.

“Honestly I thought you might still hate me a little.”

“What?” Y/N tried to rack her brain back to anything that he could have done that would have meant she’d hate him, “Why would I hate you?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, looking genuinely confused, staring at her silently for a minute.

“Because of third year? Your date with Richard Ankleman?”

“Richard? What?” Y/N hadn’t thought about him for years, “the guy who stood me up?”

“He never told you, did he,” Sirius’ face contorted to one of complete embarrassment. For a moment, Y/N thought that he might hit himself with the pillow, but was grateful that he kept it where it was.

“Told me what, Sirius.”

“Ok, uh, well I wasn’t totally thrilled about him asking you out so I, you know in classic idiot Sirius style, hexed him into the Hospital wing so he wouldn’t make it. I mean I did tell him not to tell you, but I didn’t think he was scared enough of me to take me seriously,” He looked, if possible, even more sheepish. Y/N stared at him, eyes wide. How did I not know this?

“You were so furious after you spoke to him the next day, I just presumed he’d told you. You ruined my weeks’ essays, remember?”

Y/N did remember. It was all coming back to her, storming into Gryffindor Common Room in a rage and, with a flick of her wand, opening all the windows and letting in a huge gust of air that swung through the room and knocked over all of Sirius’ ink bottles that were scattered across the desk he was using the finalise his essays.

Y/N hadn’t bothered to stay and watch the aftermath. She had gone to apologise the next day, but he hadn’t been waiting for her in the common room like he always was so they could go down for breakfast together.

“Yeah, I was mad at him! He went on and on about how he was sick and I shouldn’t blame him for standing me up and to not slag him off to any of my other girlfriends in case he asked them out,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the memory, “I went to apologise to you the next day but you kept avoiding me.”

“I thought you’d want to talk about what I did!” Sirius stepped forward, letting out a huge breath he seemed to have been holding, and began gushing, his words falling off his tongue without a second thought, “I’d have to explain why and then you’d realise I was madly in love with you.”

He breathed out a laugh, significantly calmer. Y/N, on the other hand, felt like he’d just punched her in the throat.

“You what?”

“Merlin’s beard, I’m doing terribly today,” He muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair, “Please don’t freak, it was a while ago I promise, it just made me a little crazy back then. We haven’t really spoken properly in ages anyway,” He tried to laugh it off, but Y/N still felt like it was hard to breathe. A silence fell across them, broken only by the sound of Sirius adjusting his pillow awkwardly. Y/N’s heart was beating hard.

“I…” Y/N tried to laugh as well, as if this was a casual thing to say, “I had a bit of a thing for you as well.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me!” Y/N scoffed at him, lifting her arms up in exasperation.

“I thought you knew!”

“How on earth would I know that! I’m not a mind reader.”

“I literally spent every waking hour with you, I asked you out!”

“I think I would have noticed if you asked me out you idiot,” Y/N shook her head at him, “Please, tell me when you asked me out.”

“I asked you to Hogsmeade and you invited James to get to know him better, so I kind of got the hint,” Sirius watched Y/N open and close her mouth a couple of times, unsure how to reply, “You didn’t think it was a date.”

“Not really…” Y/N was unsure if she could feel more like an absolute twat, “I thought you were just seeing if I wanted to go, and I wanted to hang out with James cause you guys were hanging out so much!”

“Wow,” Sirius started laughing, shaking his head, “This is actually changing my life.”

Y/N couldn’t help but join in, feeling her nervous energy emanate in awkward laughter.

“I can’t believe how stupid we were,” Y/N snorted, her face still red but breaking out into a large smile that matched Sirius’.

“Merlin, imagine if we hadn’t been so idiotic, things would be very different,” Sirius laughed, but Y/N felt her smile fade a little as she thought about his words. Holding his hand as they snuck around the back of the Herbology classrooms, where they’d previously made fun of couples for hiding. Sirius taking her to his favourite hiding spots around the castle. Y/N actually being there for him when he’d left home, instead of hearing about it through Remus and leaving a bag of Honeydukes sweets on his bed when he wasn’t there.

“Yeah, really different.”

Sirius’ eyes lifted to meet Y/N’s, his eyes darkening slightly. Y/N had forgotten momentarily that he was completely naked and that the light was getting brighter and brighter in the Common Room.

“Y/N, I –“ Sirius started but there was a sudden noise that made him jump backwards and turn his head towards the stairs, “Shit.”

Sirius grimaced, opening his mouth to say something before shaking his head and making a mad dash back up the stairs to the boy's dorm room before anyone came out of the girl's dormitory to find him stark naked and covered by a pillow.

Y/N stood, a little dazed, in the same spot momentarily, staring out the window opposite her until she heard her name getting called.

“Hmmm, what?” She turned to find Lily watching her, an odd expression on her face.

“Did I hear you talking to someone?”

“No, wait yes, Sirius was down here a second ago, he just went upstairs to get dressed.”

“Right…” Lily still seemed to stare at Y/N, whose expression was likely just as confusing.

“Um, why are you up so early?” Y/N changed the subject quickly, moving to sit back on the couch where the cushions had been hastily thrown earlier.

“Have a meeting with Professor McGonagall about getting a reference for my internship at St Mungo’s,” Lily grinned, “I’m hoping she’ll forgive me dating James.”

“Ahh, she secretly loves James’ shenanigans.”

“Let’s hope so,” Lily sighed, “You coming down for breakfast?”

“Yes – no wait, I’m not dressed am I?” Y/N looked down at herself, still wearing her clothes from the day before, “Oh.”

“Are you ok?” Lily looked concerned, “You didn’t get a concussion yesterday did you?”

“No, I’m fine, sorry, still a little tired obviously. You go ahead, I’ll meet you in the Great Hall,” Y/N gave what she hoped was a convincing smile and moved quickly down towards the girls’ dorm rooms.

Y/N felt like the whole day moved in a kind of daze. Many people went back to Hogsmeade but Y/N opted to join Marlene and Dorcas down by the lake as Dorcas debriefed them on her date the day before.

“Should I have kissed her? I feel like I should have and I just fucked up big time,” Dorcas groaned, throwing her bag down and joining it in a heap on the grass.

“You definitely should have kissed her,” Marlene replied solemnly, “Y/N, what do you think? I reckon she was giving off vibes big time.”

“What?” Y/N looked up at the two girls, both of whom glared at her.

“Were you even listening to me?” Dorcas huffed, “This is an important life or death situation, Y/N. I may have just ruined my first date with the love of my life.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“What’s going on with you, you’ve been out of it all day,” Marlene probed, joining Dorcas on the grass, letting her legs sit out in the sun.

“Nothing, I’m just distracted, sorry,” Y/N dipped her toe in the lake, “You definitely should have kissed her, D.”

“Don’t change the subject!” Dorcas poked her shin with her toe, “or depress me more.”

“Tell usssssss,” Marlene whined at Y/N, “Come on, it’s nearly graduation, we might never ever see each other again and you’ll regret having never shared this precious information with us.”

“Ha ha ha,” Y/N poked her tongue out at Marlene who was pouting, “I just… ugh. Ok, well I sort of spoke to Sirius this morning.”

“I’m excited already,” Marlene grinned, leaning forwards, “Did he profess his love for you yet?”

“I actually hate you,” Y/N bit her lip, “But also like kinda?”

“WHAT,” The two girls had wide eyes, Dorcas’ mouth hanging open slightly.

“Ok well, that’s an over-exaggeration, it was more like he had a crush on me years ago.”

“Less interesting, pretty obvious,” Marlene huffed, leaning back into her arms.

“How!” Y/N glared at her, “how on earth could you know this.”

“Ooooo Y/N, I’m just going to stare at you longingly from across the table all subtle-like,” Marlene put on a terrible deep male voice, staring longingly at Y/N.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” warned Y/N, but her cheeks twitched as Marlene began to pout in an eerily accurate impression of a brooding Sirius.

“Soooo did he ask you out?”

“Did you make out?”

“We did nothing, at all.”

“You’re as bad as Dorcas,” Marlene shook her head, earning a shove from Dorcas.

“We were interrupted by Lily,” Y/N threw her hands up, “It kind of sounded like… he might have been saying something important…”

“Oooooooo Y/N’s got a date!” Marlene giggled, grinning widely at her. Y/N couldn’t help but grin back at her, Marlene’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“I do not,” said Y/N, but her smile was still giving her away. Marlene reached out and grabbed her arms, pulling her down into the grass with Dorcas.

“You will be a positive human even if I have to punch it into you. Now, sit down and get all brown and tan with me.”

They stayed by the lake until Dorcas’ stomach started rumbling and they made their way to lunch in the Great Hall. It was almost empty, most people having grabbed some food to eat outside or were still in Hogsmeade for the afternoon. Y/N spent most of her meal ignoring Marlene nudging her once Sirius and James had walked in and sat a few seats along the table from them. She also tried to ignore the sound of chairs moving and someone moving quickly behind her once they’d finished and stood up to leave the Great Hall, but her heart had begun beating hard in her chest again, and she cursed her cheeks for refusing to let her hide any kind of emotion from the outside world.

“Oi, Y/N!” Y/N spun around to see Sirius chasing her down the hallway.

“I’ll catch up to you guys,” Y/N tried to smile casually at Marlene and Dorcas, who were winking at her continuously, Marlene blowing kisses in between, “Fuck off, please.”

“Have fun!”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“She can’t even kiss a girl, please do everything she wouldn’t do.”

“Shoo!” Y/N hissed, turning back to see Sirius smirking at her, “Please excuse my two idiotic friends.”

“They are highly entertaining.”

“I stand by idiotic,” Y/N looked up at Sirius expectantly, “What’s up?”

“Well I feel like we didn’t quite finish our conversation earlier.”

“Is that so?”

“Well I mean, I was half-naked and had to sprint up the stairs to avoid being seen.”

“Completely naked if I remember correctly.”

“Ahhh so you were checking me out huh?” Sirius winked at her, stepping closer to her in the hallway. Y/N had the urge to step back, her brain telling her to abort mission, but she stood her ground, watching him closely.

“So what was it you needed to tell me?” said Y/N as calmly as possible, though her voice broke slightly at the end.

“Well I was going to – uh, I mean I wanted to ask – “ Sirius’ stuttered slightly, his face getting flustered. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at him, was he nervous to talk to her?

His nervousness seemed to give Y/N a new bout of confidence, and she stepped forward to meet him.

“You were going to…”

“Ask you…”

“Out?” Y/N finished for him, feeling a little ill, but excited all the same. Sirius laughed at her, shaking his head.

“Jeez, we already finish each other’s senten-“ Y/N leaned in and interrupted him by placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“ences…” Sirius finished, his eyes glazing over as they pulled apart slowly.

“The day after graduation, I’ll meet you in London,” Y/N felt the words spill out, as if her confidence was a ticking bomb and if she didn’t get everything out quickly it would all blow up and float away.

“Deal,” replied Sirius, cupping her cheek lightly in one hand, “And thanks.”

“For what?”

“For asking you out for me.”

“What can I say, I just know what you want,” and with that, she turned on her heels and walked away, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Only took seven years she thought, exhaling deeply, but I guess we’ve got endless time to make up for it.

Taglist

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[kitkat1003]

Hearth, Home, War, and Politics.  For Kids!

 Chapter 2: Prologue Part 2

It’s time to take back what Salazar stole from them.

That is, if they don’t fall apart on the way there.

AO3 Link

@asilcorner

The room erupts into a frenzy.

“We’re WHAT?” Yakko hears Dot shout. Dr. Scratchansniff is muttering in German, Hello Nurse is shouting, maybe screaming in shock, Wakko has his hands over his ears.

Yakko takes a deep breath.

“HEY!” he stomps his foot on the ground, hard, and his shout makes the room go silent.  He rarely has to get that loud—in fact, he hates doing so, because it freaks out everyone around him.  It had to be done, though.

“You have the resemblance—how did I not see it?” Dr. Scratchansniff puts a hand to his mouth in shock, and then goes pale.  “I operated on the princess—oh no, this is the not good, I...,” he trails off, and Hello Nurse helps him to a chair.

“I don’t see what her status has to do with your quality of care, Doc.  What, you fix up poor people worse than royalty?” Yakko says it more nonchalant than anything else, but his eyes sharpen at the thought.  Would he—?

Dr. Scratchansniff frantically shakes his head, and Yakko shrugs.

“See, no harm no foul,” he turns, to the guard.  

“And, uh, thanks for the heads up, but I don’t know what you expect us to do about that.  Last time I checked, fourteen year-olds can’t overthrow the government,” because he would have loved to kick King Salazar off of his high and mighty throne, but keeping his sibs safe always came first.

“We’re gonna stage a coup, man,” The guard says it in a hushed whisper.  “Most of guards are sick of that guy—and I found the old royal portrait, and now that they know, they want Salazar out of here, man,” Yakko knows why the guard is whispering—if Plotz in the other room hears, if any of Salazar’s supporters hear, they’re done for.

“What do you want us to do about it?” Yakko crosses his arms over his chest.

He sees Wakko kneel down and pick up the dropped coin out of the corner of his eye, and when Wakko goes to grab it Yakko notices his hands are shaking. Yakko knows a lot about his sibs.  Wakko hasn’t been scared enough to be that shaky before.

“We need you to be there, man.  We can do the fighting, but a kingdom needs its rulers, man.”

 Yakko feels a headache coming on.  If he hears man one more time—“Just….stop.” He raises a hand and rubs his temples.  “When is this happening?”

“Within a week” is the reply, and Yakko turns to Dr. Scratchansniff.

“When can Dot be moved out of the hospital?” He needs these pieces to figure out a plan.  God, and here he thought they could have a semblance of normalcy for two seconds.  What a joke.

“Um,” Dr. Scratchansniff seems put off guard by the question, fumbling for an answer.  “I think she should staying overnight, but after that she can go home.”

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath, stands up straight.  The world settles on his shoulders, like it always does, and he deals with its weight like he always does.  For a moment, the whole room can see him in a crown, the crest of the warnestock family emblazoned on his chest.  Maybe it’s less because he was born royalty and more because he’s grown used to caring for his family as if they were his kingdom.  Maybe it’s muscle memory. 

He points to the guard.   “Wherever you need us to go, we’ll leave tomorrow when Dot’s able. Now,” he sighs, trailing off and waving a hand at every adult in the room.  “Can everyone just-just give us some space?”

It takes a few moments for the words to register, but Hello Nurse helps Dr. Scratchansniff up, and leads the guard to the door.

“Let us know if you need anything, sweetheart,” she says, and then they all leave.

Yakko collapses into a chair.

What a mess.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot is reeling through the entire conversation, as Yakko deals with all the adults that are vying for their attention.  She feels a bit guilty, but she’s once again too tired and weak to do anything herself, and if Yakko’s good at anything, it’s leading a conversation in a desired direction.

But there’s something wriggling in the back of her mind, asYakko talks.  Because she thinks back on the expression Yakko had on his face, when he heard they were royalty.  It wasn’t surprise.  Shock, at the admission, but not surprise.  And he took the news quickly, moved on quicker, took charge of the situation.  She knows that part of it is probably because he felt the compulsion to, the need to.

But also...it makes her think.  Because Yakko, despite their poor social standing, always had them hold their heads high.  He always had them believe they were better than how they were treated, and maybe that was just him wanting them to not think of themselves as nothing, but it could be something else.  Because they’re the Warners, they command the space, they always take charge, pull the town into musical numbers, and being leaders has always felt right.

She watches him slump into the chair, looking exhausted beyond belief, and a part of her just wants to let him sit.  She isn’t cruel, she doesn’t want to see Yakko stressed.

But she’s also ten, and curious, and confused, and Yakko knows more than he’s letting on.  And that part of her, that needs to know, makes her open her mouth and push.

“You didn’t look surprised,” she says, and Yakko looks up.

“What?” Clearly, he’s off his game, because if he was on it he would have a snappy comeback ready the moment the sentence left her mouth.

“About us being royalty.  You didn’t look surprised.” Wakko looks at her in confusion, but Dot doesn’t feel like backing down.

That’s her issue, she knows.  She never backs down from a fight.  Never knows when to let something go.

“I mean, you’re the mouth of this family, but even you ought to have been speechless, right?” She can see Yakko’s eyes narrow, before he shrugs with a nonchalant grin.

“Nah.  I got a quip for everything.” She puffs up her cheeks in frustration at his deflection.

“Yakko,” she growls out.

“What?”

“You knew!” It’s shouted with a vitriol that makes Wakko take a step back from her bedside, confused and worried.

“Knew what?”

“You knew we were royalty!”

Wakko blinks in surprise, Yakko flinches like he was struck, and Dot trembles in her bed.  Her chest hurts.  She shouldn’t be yelling yet, doesn’t have the breath for it.

“And?” Yakko squares his shoulders, like he’s getting ready for a fight, and Dot hates that he feels the need to defend himself from her, but he knew, he knew and he didn’t tell them.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” It comes out more pained than angry, and Yakko deflates at her tone.

“There was no point,” he sounds so defeated.

“No point?  We-we could’ve-we—” she tries to argue, never one to back down, but then Yakko looks up at her with a fire in his eyes that scares her.

“We could have what?  Staged a coup?  Yeah, that would have gone over well.  Let’s us, a six year old, three year old, and two year old go up to the man who killed our parents and ask him to give us the throne back.  Right?  Because Salazar seems so charitable,” The way he’s saying it, she knows this has been on his mind for a long time.  That for—for 8 years—he knew for 8 years, and he could only swallow the injustice as he kept them safe.

What did that do to him?  How much did that hurt?

“Mom and Dad told me to keep you two safe.” He says it  like a mantra,  like the thought has been repeating for years in his head.

And for a moment, Dot hates her parents.  How could they task Yakko with that, how could they place that responsibility on his shoulders, how could they do this to him, make him think that all that mattered was her and Wakko, and not himself?  What kind of parents are they, to teach Yakko to forget that he’s important, too?

“I took care of you—or at least, tried to.” He runs a hand through his fur, mussing up his cowlick. 

His voice sounds so self deprecating that she wants to strangle him.  His whole body is a bit puffed up, she realizes.  He must have been so stressed out it made his fur fluff, to make him bigger, to make him more intimidating. Because she made him feel like he needed to be.

Her and her big mouth.

“It’s okay,” Wakko speaks up.  “I get it.”

“Sorry,” Dot manages, because there are a million things she wants to say, there is a world of fury she wants to unleash, but those things aren’t for Yakko to hear.  She wants to tear the world the pieces, find whatever deity decided to give them the life they have, to give Yakko the life he’s dealt with.  She wants things to be fair. “It’s just—”

“It’s a lot,” Wakko finishes for her, an expression on his face very familiar.  She can recall it from when she would hide a cough, when she would feign being healthy for a day.  That facade in service of stopping concern from taking root in those around you.  His hands are hidden, she notes, and he has this look in his eyes, like when you place your hand in front of the sun and the streaks of light still burst through the spaces between your fingers.

Like he’s covering up something. Did he learn that from Yakko?

When did her brothers start hiding so much from her?

“But hey, we’re gonna go back to the castle, right?  You think they’ll have a royal chef there?” Wakko changes the subject with ease, tongue lolling out of his mouth with a grin, and he definitely got that from Yakko.

Yakko doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he does, too tired to care.  He huffs out a laugh that’s more wet than humorous, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, arms propping his head up.  He wipes his eyes and leans back, against the wall.  

“Last time I remember being there, you sure gave the royal kitchens a run for their money with how much you ate,” Wakko beams at the comment, and Yakko seems to relax, now that he’s not thinking about the logistics of it all.

Dot can play this game, too.

“You think they’ll give me a new dress?”

Yakko opens his mouth, to regale her with another piece of near forgotten trivia, and Dot listens, letting Yakko forget just for a moment everything he’s been through, all the things he’s done.

Banter is always a distraction.  She files away that information, and decides to be the perfect distraction, whenever Yakko needs her to be.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They have dinner, a few hours after the guard leaves.  Yakko tells enough jokes and stories to make Dot cry with laughter, and Wakko’s tail wags so fast it’s practically a blur.  He settles them into bed a few hours after that, opting for the chair because the hospital bed is just a bit too small for three.

He expected Dot to be angry.  She backed down quicker than expected, though.  He hadn’t meant to get so snappy, but he’s exhausted and he doesn’t want to have to explain himself to anyone.  He did what was best for them, always.  Knowing would have just made them despair, mourn the life they didn’t even remember.  Without the comparison, their lives didn’t seem so bad, right?  Why give them that wake up call?

He stretches, yawning, and heads towards the back door.  He needs to collect their things if they’re leaving tomorrow morning, and the quicker he gets it done the sooner he stops worrying about it.

A hand grabbing his own stops him.

He turns, and Wakko is standing there, looking as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“Where are you going?” Wakko looks...there’s something off about his gaze.  Yakko can’t decipher it.  Whatever it is, it isn’t good.  Yakko files that away and aims to figure it out when he has the time.

“Gonna go get all our stuff from the house,” and isn’t that a joke, calling the abandoned orphanage a house.  “Since we’re moving and all that.”

“Can I get it?” Yakko blinks at the question, which is why Wakko seems to stumble over explanations.  “It’s cold—I have my sweater—”

“And no pants.  I got pants and no sweater.  What’s the logic there?” Yakko interrupts.  “Besides, I need you to stay back here and keep an eye on Dot.  Don’t want anything to go wrong while I’m out.”

“I—” There’s a flicker of that something, something that Yakko can recall seeing earlier.  When Wakko came back from his year long work trek, the day before, even.  Fear?  He can see Wakko’s tail curled around his one leg, a sign of anxiety, but he doesn’t understand.  Since when was Wakko nervous about keeping Dot safe?  He always took a shine to that, proud that Yakko would trust him with such a responsibility.  

“Okay,” and just like that, the fear is gone, like someone had taken the crudely drawn etch-a-sketch that is his brother and shaken it to clear the slate.  It’s startling.  When did his brother learn to do that?

Why would he need to?

“I’ll be back quick,” he assures.

Wakko nods, that simple, dumb look on his face that Yakko thinks for a moment is real.  Wakko can be a bit oblivious, and you can see it on his face, but this. This isn’t that.  And it frightens Yakko, more than he can articulate, that he almost thought it was.

He disappears out the door, watching Wakko walk over to Dot’s bedside over his shoulder as the door swings shut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko doesn’t have the time to be upset when he finds out who their parents are.

Everyone starts shouting, and the sounds fade into the crashing noise of tumbling rocks, the world crumbling around him as the ground shakes.  He covers his ears and almost cowers, and he can hear the rock above him, cracking off of the ceiling, and Sir is shouting something, and—

Yakko’s yell snaps him out of it, and he is a tensely coiled spring of something as Yakko talks.  Honestly, he doesn’t hear most of it.  There’s a dull ringing in his ears that blurs the sounds around him into white noise.  The adults leave, and it goes quiet, and for a moment Wakko feels like he can breathe.

And then Dot gets upset.

Wakko doesn’t blame her.  If he had the time, he might be angry too.  They’re not supposed to have secrets, not between each other, but Wakko’s a hypocrite so he doesn’t have anything to say.

He speaks up when Dot fumbles.  Is this how Yakko feels, when he needs to talk his way out of a situation?  It’s terrifying.  You don’t know if what you said is gonna work until a moment after you let the words go, and that one moment is pure adrenaline.

Maybe it gets easier when you’re better at it.  Wakko wouldn’t know.

Scratchy brings them dinner with small cups of his newest recipe of his elixir on the side, a few hours after all the adults clear out.  It makes Dot hiccup, and Wakko lets out a belch that rattles the walls and startles a laugh out of Yakko.  The food is soup, warm broth with potatoes and meat that forces the chill from their limbs, and Wakko can’t help but be grateful.

Scratchy isn’t so bad, for an adult.  But he’s still one.  So there’s that.

And then, in the night when they’re supposed to be sleeping, Yakko leaves.  He has to get their stuff, and he’s going to leave Wakko alone, with Dot, as if Wakko could keep her safe.  Wakko can’t do anything, certainly not keep his sister safe!  He couldn’t even keep himself safe, he got Sir killed, he can’t keep her safe.

But Yakko goes, anyway, and Wakko sits beside her bed and doesn’t let the idea of rest cross his mind.  His eyes dart towards any of the entrances to the room, vigilant.

He’s a prince, he realizes.  The thought is...it comes to him unbidden, and he tries to imagine it.  Him, a prince.  Tasked with helping keep a kingdom safe, its people safe.

He’s already failed, and he didn’t even know it.

He laughs, quietly to himself, and wipes his tears before Yakko’s back to see.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Dot is discharged.  She’s practically glowing with joy, jumping out of bed before she stumbles a bit.

“I would not do the jumping, ja?  You need to still be careful.” Dr. Scratchansniff’s hand is gentle against her back, but Yakko pulls her away anyway, keeping her close to him.  Dr. Scratchansniff seems surprised at the action, glancing over at Yakko in confusion, but Yakko narrows his eyes and shrugs, nonchalant.

Wakko is quiet as always, chewing on the lollipop stick that once held a lollipop.  Hello Nurse gave it to him, so now of the two adults here, she’s his favorite.

“Be careful, you three,” Hello Nurse waves them goodbye, and Wakko laughs.

“Never are!” Yakko returns with that trademark grin.

They meet the guard at the edge of town.  He has a caravan, and there’s another guard who’s driving it.  He ushers them inside, hidden from the world.

Yakko has his claws out.  Wakko notices it only because one of Yakko’s gloves is missing a finger, so it’s easy to see.  But Yakko has his claws out, something he’s never seen Yakko do.  Toons don’t like to use their more...animalistic features unless it’s funny or if they’re in grave danger.  Wakko guesses that Yakko is adhering to the latter.

He keeps them out as they sit in the caravan, and as they depart.  Wakko doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yakko so tense before.

“What’s the plan?” Dot asks.

“There are some guys—they support Salazar, man,” the guard explains.  “We got numbers, but still.  So we’re gonna fight them, and you’re gonna show up and kick Salazar out when he’s all alone, man.” What a plan.  Very detailed.

“You do realize he killed our parents, right?” Yakko’s voice is quiet, even dark.  “I don’t think we’re going to be exactly prepared to kick him out ourselves.”

“Dot’s still recovering,” Wakko adds.

“He won because he cheated, man.  Had Dip and everything—” Yakko flinches at the mention of it. “But we got it locked down, man.  He won’t be able to do anything.  It’s performative, man.  You have to take back your kingdom.”

There’s a question on Wakko’s tongue.  He wants to know how exactly his parents died, which is stupid, because the answer will only hurt.  But doesn’t the absence of knowledge hurt too?  He can certainly make a guess.  Everyone knows what Dip is, it was outlawed in all the lands for its torturous properties.

It’s acid for toons.  Strips them down, layer by layer, from color to line to sketch to paper to nothing.

A part of him wants to know for sure.  Wonders if Yakko was there to see.

He glances over at Yakko, and by the expression on his face, likely not.  There’s grim realization, not recognition.  A small mercy, he thinks.  Yakko doesn’t get many of those.

“Well, I think we can handle it,” Dot pipes up.  She’s holding Yakko’s hand, running her fingers over his claws.  Yakko doesn’t so much as twitch a finger, worried of hurting her. 

As if he’d ever.

“I guess we have our vote of confidence there,” Yakko chuckles.  “Wakko?”

Wakko shrugs.

“Why not?” he doesn’t have a lot of strong feelings on the matter.  “What have we got to lose, really?  And it sounds easy.”

Sounds, at least.  Wakko isn’t sure how easy it will really be.

“Guess we’re in, then.” Yakko puts his arm around Wakko’s shoulders and pulls him close.  He still has his claws out.

The rest of the trip is relatively silent.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They arrive at the castle in higher spirits.  Yakko spends the last ten or so minutes of the ride cracking jokes that have Dot giggling up a storm, and even Wakko has to break eventually.  He’s curled in on himself, laughing before they’re shushed as they reach the castle gates.

“Cargo delivery,” The guard driving the caravan says to the gate guard.  Yakko thinks he sees the two share a look, a wink, and then they’re moved on through.  They’re brought around to the back of the castle, into the loading area, and are ushered out into the castle.

“We’re going to the servant’s quarters,” The guard whispers, and Yakko keeps his sibs in front of him.  If they’re gonna be double crossed, they’ll have to go through him, first.

They’re brought into a small room, with a bed and dresser.

“This one is empty.  It’s not being used since Salazar fired a bunch of the servants,” They’re told.

“Fired them?  Why?” Dot asks.

“Were they too flammable?” Wakko pipes up.  Yakko snickers.

“He’s been on a short fuse since the wishing star, man.  One wrong step and you’re toast.”

Yakko snorts at the phrasing.

“You’re making this too easy for us,” he snarks.

The guard blinks, bewildered.  Yakko sighs.

“Soooo, do we just wait here until you guys holler, or...?” Yakko crosses his arms over his chest and looks on expectantly.

“Yeah-uh-I’ll come get you,” the guard fumbles over his words and plans, and Yakko raises a brow.

“Alright.” He shrugs, and leads his sibs to the bed.  “It’s nap time, then.”

After the guard leaves, they settle on the bed.  Dot is out quick, snoring softly as she leans against him, and Yakko supposes the trip must have taken more out of her than she let on.  She is still recovering from surgery, she’ll probably be tired for the rest of the week.  He makes a note not to throw her into many extravagant activities if he can, at least until she’s recovered her strength.

Wakko...well, it sounds like he’s asleep, but he isn’t doing the thing where his legs kick and twitch, and his arms barely move.  Every part of him is tense and still, even as he snores, and Yakko can’t imagine why Wakko would fake sleeping.  Wakko likes sleeping.  Who doesn’t?

He wants to stay up until he feels Wakko actually rest, but he’s more tired than he wants to admit, and his eyes slide shut without him meaning them to, worried thoughts carrying him off to a fitful rest.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko knows he should sleep. He's exhausted. It's a feeling deep down into his bones, this tiredness, because it’s more than just being tired, of staying up too late, of working too hard all in one day.

He hasn’t been sleeping well enough even when he does, and there’s a constant thrum of anxiety that sits in his chest, makes his heart stutter with every unexpected event, and as time goes on unexpected events become the expected.  He’s so exhausted by being awake, but his dreams don’t leave him feeling rested either, so he just can’t win.

At the very least, Yakko has put away his claws, fallen asleep.  He and Dot are safe and resting, and Wakko can be their guard.  Dot’s been sick for so long, and Yakko’s been protecting them since forever, so Wakko can pick up the slack.  He always has, regardless of what he wanted or needed.  He just needs a good meal and smiles on the faces of his siblings, not in that order.  

Wakko watches the stars, and hums a tune under his breath.

“Wishing star, so bright and true, our world has changed since meeting you,” he whispers with just enough melody to be called a song.  “So many things are happening.  Don’t know what it all is so I just sing,” he sits up, gentle enough that he doesn’t jostle Yakko awake.

“Is this all really my dream?  We’re back home but what does that mean?” he fidgets with the sleeves of his sweater, starting up another verse.

“Wishing star, so bright and clear, was it a mistake to come back here?  In a world we’ve never known, told it’s time to take our throne,” he’s a prince, he’s in charge, and yet.

“Wishing star, can I believe?  This is where I deserve to be...” He trails off, light of the moon shining against his face, casting his shadow on his siblings and the bed behind him.

Time moves slow, and he just stares at the countryside, waiting.

There’s a crash from above, and he jumps, tumbling off of the bed.  Yakko shoots up as if he were spring-loaded, and he frantically looks around for Wakko, pawing around the bed for him until Wakko pops back up from the floor.

Dot is up a moment later, rubbing her eyes and clinging to Yakko as if he’s her teddy bear.

There’s a knock on the door, and Yakko motions for Wakko to get behind him.

Wakko doesn’t move.

The ever familiar guard—they really ought to learn his name at some point—pops his head in, looking haggard and sweaty.  Wakko doesn’t miss the smear of blood on his sword.

“C’mon,” There’s no time for ‘man’ apparently, as he motions them to the door, and Yakko’s claws are out again.

Wakko lets out his own, so he can be just as formidable.

They disappear into the night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The flickering of the torches in the hallway add to the eerie atmosphere, and not one of the 3 children trust that they’re being brought to anywhere besides a trap.  Wakko’s mallet is out, and Dot has her mace, strong enough to lift it so it doesn’t scrape against the floor.  All Yakko has are his words and his claws, and he keeps himself in front of his siblings as a shield.  

They pass by a body that doesn’t move, or breathe.  They don’t know whose side the soldier was on.

“We have the throne room surrounded, man,” the guard whispers, and his breaths are harried.  His hands are shaking, and they would be worried for him if they had the energy or time to worry about anything else besides each other.

They can’t waste their time on other people, emotionally or physically, not when everyone else is out to get them.  That doesn’t mean they want everyone to be in pain, to suffer, on the contrary.  They just aren’t going to make an effort to help everyone else when they can barely help themselves.  They still try, and Wakko’s desire to use his money to help the town as much as to help themselves is proof of that, but they have to stay distant, because people leave.  People backstab.  People lie.  

People kill.

“Well, sibs,” Yakko breathes as they head to the throne room back door, “Ready to take back our throne?”

Dot’s grin is feral, her fur sharp enough to cut as it fluffs up, and Wakko’s hat has never looked more intimidating as it lengthens his shadow.

“We were born ready,” Dot says, and they head in.

Salazar is on his throne, seemingly unaware of the assault upon his guards, though he does take note of the sound of the door opening and closing behind him.

“Finally, a servant competent to check on me.  Being a King is not easy work,” his condescending complaint grates their ears.

“Oh Salzy~!” They cheer, and Salazar jumps out of the throne—it’s not his, it’s theirs, doesn’t matter if they don’t feel like it is yet because they’ve staked a claim and they will fight for it—turning on the dime and backing away from their voices.

“Sally?” Yakko hops onto the throne, hand under his chin, his brow raised as if in a silent question.

“Sandra?” Dot pops up on Salazar’s side, and the monarch yelps, stumbling back.

He trips over Wakko’s leg.

“Salisbury?” Wakko adds, and at the thought of it starts to drool.  “...Steak...”

“Salacious?” Yakko tries.

“Salamander?” Dot pipes up, her and Wakko closing in, weapons raised.  Salazar crab walks backwards until his back hits the wall.

“Sacrilegious?” Wakko taps Salazar’s foot with his mallet, as if testing his aim.

“That outfit, maybe,” Dot sneers.  “Whoever your royal tailor is, fire them.”

“Hey, don’t put someone out of a job like that.  Besides, if Saltine’s taste is anything to go by, it’s probably his fault,” Yakko sprawls out on the throne, as if he was born to sit there.

Well, he was.  Funny how that works.

“It’s Salazar you-y-you miscreants!” Finally, Salazar finds his voice, and the three turn away from their conversation with each other to stare at him with gazes that shut him up quick.

“Honestly, Salarts, your name is the least important thing here,” Dot puts her hands on her hips.

“I think being deposed is probably more important, Saltana,” Wakko shrugs.

“Deposed?!” Salazar all but shrieks.  Yakko snickers.

“Surprise!” He throws his hands out and grins.  “Thanks for keeping the seat warm, Seesaw, but we’re taking it back.  It is ours, after all,” Salazar pales at the reminder.

“What, did you think you could get away with it forever?” Dot rolls her eyes.  “Men.”

“Your men are zilch,” Wakko sets his mallet on his shoulder, grinning with his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth.  “We made a few friends.”

“Turns out robbing a country blind doesn’t make you popular,” Yakko shrugs, as if it was a shock to him, too.  “So, sorry not sorry, you’re arrested.  Guards!”

On their cue, guards come out and surround Salazar, two grabbing him by the arms and forcing him to his feet.

“Traitors!  I’ll have you beheaded!” Salazar kicks his feet and struggles.

Yakko looks on, bored, and Dot swings her mace up to hit where the sun don’t shine.  Salazar lets out a whine that makes everyone else in the room wince, and goes still, knees scrunched up to his chest in pain.

“That’s for Yakko,” she tells him, because she knows she should be angrier about her parents, about the ones she never got to know, but she only has the one, now, and Salazar is the reason why Yakko never got to go to school, why Yakko worries about if they will be able to eat that day instead of if he’ll get in trouble for his room not being clean.

Wakko hops up and slams his mallet down on Salazar’s head.  Salazar sees nothing but stars and says nothing that can be deciphered as language.

“Mom and Dad,” he says, simply, and then whispers another name she doesn’t catch.

“What should we do with him, your majesty?” One of the guards asks, eyes trained on Yakko.

It takes Yakko a minute to realize that they’re talking to him, of all people.  He blinks, sits up.  Your majesty, huh.

“To the dungeons, I guess.  Do we have dungeons?” he looks over at Wakko and Dot, as if they would know.  They both shrug.

“We have dungeons, sir,” another guard replies.  Yakko nods, not really decisive, more just as an acknowledgement.

“Cool.  Take him there, then.”

Salazar vanishes out the door, and Wakko and Dot scamper towards their eldest.  They hop onto the armrests of the throne that seems too big for just one of them to sit in.

“We won,” Dot whispers, like saying it louder will break the illusion.

“That was easy,” Wakko nods to her statement, and Yakko laughs, but it sounds more exhausted than happy.

They sit like that, silent for a moment.  The guards stare at them as if they aren’t sure what to think of them.  And the Warners, they’re used to that.  Being unknowns, being oddballs.

And yet they’re also being looked at as if they have power.  Wisdom.  Leadership skills?  There’s so much that is expected of them now.  Where do they even begin?

“What now?” Dot asks, and, like usual, Yakko finds himself being looked to for answers he doesn’t have.  They’re royals now.  Monarchs.  In charge.

“Guess we get fitted for our crowns,” he replies, and they wait for the changes to come.

[theroomofreq]

Personality Before Punctuality: Chapter 2

James Potter plays in a band but spends his mornings in the bakery chatting up Lily Evans. Lily spends her week days selling pastries, but on weekends she goes to see James play guitar. 

The second part to my meet cute muggle au! 

Read on AO3

Lily flung open the door to The Hallows, her bag knocked on the door frame as her quick pace carried her into the bakery. 9:07, Okay not terribly late, she could work with that. Her morning walk had little to no distractions and after yesterday she figured she had better be more timely than usual. Lily blew her bangs out of her face as she looked up to find one of the primary bakers, Simon, engaged with a customer.

Yikes, Simon hated customers. Lily increased her pace as she made her way around the counter, her bag dropping un-ceremonially to the floor. She chanced an apologetic look at Simon before turning to the customer in front of her.

“Evans, have you tried this treacle tart?!”

James Potter had a mouthful of tart and a goofy grin that came with his question. 

Lily’s eyes roamed down his figure wondering how she had missed him. The first detail to notice was his hat, Potter had a large black bucket hat that fit snuggly on his head, the strap and buckle pulled tightly across his sharp jaw line. Apparently black was his theme today, as his long-sleeved shirt and trousers match his hat color.

 “Of course, Potter” Lily couldn’t hold back her grin as he shoveled another bite into his mouth “This week is especially good because Simon here made it. He always makes the best pastry crust” Lily placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder and hoped her honest compliment would get her out of being late this morning.

“Flattery will not excuse the tardiness Lily, but it doesn’t stop you from being my favorite” Simon gave her a small smile, which Lily counted as a win. “Wonderful to meet you James” 

“Likewise” Potter replied as Simon walked back into the kitchen. 

 Potter leaned up against the display case crossing his arms as he smirked down toward Lily. “I’m glad I caught you again.”

“At the bakery where I work? Yes, you’re very lucky to find me here.” She couldn’t hold back the sarcasm that dripped out of her mouth.

The way James rolled his eyes had an affectionate feel, “Oh come on, you know what I mean Evans. I didn’t know your schedule at all, this was really all I had.”

“So, what was your plan?” Lily said, her eyebrows quirked up, “Show up here every morning until I finally came in to work?”

James seemed to startle as he stood up from his relaxed position, his eyes went downcast as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well yeah, actually that was the idea…” His eyes turned up at Lily with a bashful look.

The way his eyes locked on her resulted in Lily biting down on her lip as her cheeks flushed. Before she could reply the door chimed as another customer walked into the shop. James began to back away from the register and Lily, as his eyes wandered around the bakery.

“The table to your left has the best chairs” Lily mentioned, hoping that her invitation to stay would come across.

Potter’s eyes lit up as he made his way to where Lily suggested, walking backward toward the table with a lazy gate that had Lily captivated the whole time. Perhaps it was the way he rubbed his hands together or how held her gaze the entire time, regardless Lily loved what an all-black look did for James Potter.  

Regrettably, Lily tore her eyes away from him and back to the latest customer to enter The Hallows.

 ----

As a Wednesday morning, the bakery wasn’t terribly busy, but there was a steady stream of people who came in to buy pastries. She knew most everyone that came in, as she had a good grasp on who the regulars were and what they would buy. Often, she found herself sending glances toward James, who sat alone at his table writing away in a notebook he had pulled from his back pocket. 

She was grateful he had chosen to sit with his back to the front door, he was less likely to be noticed this way, especially because his stag tattoo was facing the wall not the open shop. Well that, and the obvious fact that she had a brilliant view of him as he focused on his writing, rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, or even shot glances at Lily.

There was something about James Potter that made her believe that he did everything at 100%. Maybe it was the way his eyes lit up as he scrawled across the page, never stopping for a moment as rotated his book to add notes or circle a word. It could’ve been the way that she caught him looking at her, his deep eyes latching on to her movements as she did her job. Whenever she caught him staring (which was very often) he didn’t ever look away, his smile just got brighter as he winked or waved in her direction. It might’ve even been the way he kept coming up and buying more sweets.

Yes, it was definitely the sweets. He seemed hell bent on trying every item available at the bakery. The fifth time he sauntered up to the register Lily rolled her eyes, “You’re going to make yourself sick Potter”

“Probably, but I just can’t help myself around sweet things.” James said as he quite obviously looked Lily up and down with a smirk. “Meaning…”

“Potter. I know” Lily interrupted. “I know what you mean. You’ve been gawking at me for hours; you are anything but subtle.”

“You’re one to talk red” James said, propping his elbow up on the counter, “I’ve caught you sending eyes my way many a time as well.” He rested his chin on his hand while winking at Lily. 

“Right. I’m fit, you’re fit. Good to know we are on the same page here. Now get back to your table, my break is in an hour.”

“Anything for you love.”

---

“Do you work at all the rest of the week?” James asked her between bites of bread.

“Tomorrow evening and Sunday” Lily told him.

She ripped off another chunk of bread from the loaf they were sharing. Lily decided to spend her break sitting with James as he reviewed his favorite sweets and asked her about her schedule. 

“Brill, I uh, wanted to ask if you would come to my show on Friday night” The smile he tacked on at the end was hopeful.

“I didn’t know you had a show this week? I haven’t heard anything about it- where are you playing?”

“Oh well, yes, it is a bit of a secret. Sirius’ idea really” He gestured with his hands in an attempt to explain. “Our lead singer, my best mate he’s got a real flair for the dramatic that one. He convinced us to play at one of the places that first gave us a shot. Something about taking care of the little guys and standing up to the man. We are all pretty passionate about it now”

“Yeah, alright I’d love to.”

“Yeah, okay great actually, that’s excellent!” James gave her a megawatt grin. He looked down toward his notebook again and began rapidly flipping through the pages. Finally, he stopped on a page and ripped it out before passing it across the table towards Lily.

The note seemed distinctly James and Lily wasn’t really sure what that meant, she didn’t really even know this man all that well, but the page felt like James Potter. In the middle of the page was a hand drawn logo of a bar, The Hogs Head, with a large arrow that pointed to the time he would be playing. The time was circled multiple times with a small note that said, “Be punctual Evans”.

Across the top of the page was her name, written in a cursive script that was far prettier than she had ever penned her own name in. Lily’s eyes lingered a long time around her name and the drawing right beside it. James had drawn a small portrait of Lily laughing, her nose was scrunched close to her eyes which seemed brighter than usual. It was incredible what he had drawn of her with a simple black marker, the lines on her face and her freckles were expertly drawn, Lily’s breath caught as she looked up at James. He was staring intensely at her through his dark eye lashes, slowly his lips pulled to the side in a very signature smirk that Lily simply couldn’t handle looking at for too long. 

Lily shook her head trying to throw out that smirk, she knew she was in deep trouble when she had to pinch her leg before responding to James, “I didn’t know you were such an artist.”

“Nah, ‘m not. The gorgeous things in life end up drawing themselves” Potter spent a long time searching her flushed face before continuing, “I actually have to run to sound checks now, but trust me, I can’t wait to see you Friday.”

He reached across the table and gave her hand a tight squeeze before standing and walking out the door. Lily watched him go wondering how the way he had touched her so briefly had turned her legs to jelly. 

 ----

“Damn Lils, that Potter bloke won’t even know what a guitar is much less be able to play one once he sees you.”

Lily flashed a smile into the mirror towards her best friend, “You don’t think it’s too much do you?” 

“Absolutely not, we didn’t spend 2 hours trying on outfits for you to start second guessing how hot you are” Marlene let out a low whistle to prove her point.

Lily swatted at her flatmate, it did not take her that long to get ready- but even if it did, it was worth it. She’d decided to wear favorite black crop top which rested just above the smallest sliver of skin before her skirt pulled tightly across her figure hitting just about mid-thigh. Her favorite sheer tights matched her black Doc Martens perfectly and to top it all off she’d left her hair loose, Lily guessed Marlene was right, she was pretty damn hot.

Lily looked in the mirror one last time, she was ready to blow James Potter away.

---

Marlene pushed open the doors to the small venue, the outside made it look small, but it was actually pretty large on the inside. The lights were dimmed, and the crowds filled the room with a low roar, the place had an air of grunge to it. Lily glanced down at her watch, she and Marlene had showed up at the exact time Potter had written down for her, but there was no one on the small make-shift stage.

“Looks like that Potter bloke has you pegged already,” Marlene laughed as she pointed to a sign to the left of the stage.

“The Marauders” the messy scrawl on the sign read, “Tonight at 8”

It was 7:30. Potter must’ve given her an earlier time to make sure she wouldn’t be late. Lily rolled her eyes at her best friend, if James really knew her, he would know she wouldn’t dare to be late to see him. 

When The Marauders walked on stage Lily’s eyes locked on James, she felt a twinge of annoyance as he sauntered out waving at the crowd. It wasn’t entirely fair for someone to be that good looking, his white long sleeve contrasted perfectly with his black bottoms and shoes. As he stepped up to his mic he pushed up the sleeve on his right arm before resting it across the strings of his guitar.

 Honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to look at the rest of the band, the guitarist was just too mesmerizing. Was she obsessed with him? Probably. Was her heart rate going through the roof for reasons other than seeing a really good band? Definitely. Was she going to spend the rest of her night shamelessly staring at James Potter? Absolutely.

 As Lily came to terms with how quickly this man had taken over her thoughts the past few days, James turned around to walk to the back of the stage. The sandy-haired drummer was talking animatedly with the shaggy haired singer, for some reason Lily couldn’t quite remember their names. Potter threw his arm over the singer taking a moment to nod at the flustered drummer before pulling away a now red-faced front man. Potter gave his friend a final shove toward the forward microphone and the set list began.

There’s something about seeing a band play live that is exciting, the energy from the crowd is thrilling, the band going all out while playing, and the way your emotions come in waves. But, seeing a band that you love? Exhilarating. The long lead up before the song begins, singing along to your favorite song, the vibe of hearing a chorus live for the first time, all of it is magic. 

Lily was convinced that none of these feelings held a candle to seeing James Potter play. His entire body thrummed with the music, it wasn’t just his foot keeping pace, but his whole body moving as he played. The guitarist was emotionally involved in every note he played, the way his eyes followed his fingers, and how he strummed the chords perfectly in time. The smirk on his face was absolutely startling when he came in with a powerful riff or ran through a difficult set of chords. Lily decided that watching James perform was enthralling. 

As The Marauders lead singer said their goodbyes Lily finally remembered his name, Sirius Black, it wasn’t that hard to remember now that she wasn’t distracted by Potter’s arse. The moment Sirius waved goodnight, Potter placed his guitar on his stand and jumped off the front of the stage. 

Lily watched him weave through the crowd as he was stopped by many individuals for a photo or signature. Her attention was pulled from Potter as Marlene placed a hand on her arm.  

“Lils, are you okay if I head out now?” Marlene asked the question timidly, “I promised Dorcas I would stop by after the show.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know you were seeing her again?” Lily was surprised her friend had kept the news from her, she was usually so open about her latest relationships

“It’s new and I don’t know,” Marlene shrugged, “I didn’t want to jinx it or anything.” 

Lily shook her head at her outgoing friend now turned shy at the thought of Dorcas. “Get going then, I’m sure she is waiting for you.” 

“Thanks Lils,” Marlene said as she pulled the redhead in for a hug, “Maybe we will both get a bit lucky tonight.” 

Ahh, there was her friend. Marlene practically ran out the front doors toward her new girlfriend. Lily turned her eyes back to the crowd searching for Potter, before she could locate him someone stepped right in front of her path blocking her view. 

“You’ve created a lot of grief for me Evans.” Sirius Black stood cooly in front of Lily, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked evenly at her. 

“And what would that be Black?” Lily crossed her arms challenging whatever Black was about to go on about. 

“You’ve driven this fool out of his mind the last few days” Black jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward Potter who walked up next to him. “All I’ve heard the last bit is all about Lily Evans, how witty and gorgeous you are. It is enough to turn me completely mental.” Sirius had a smirk on his face, but Potter looked warily at his friend. 

“I’d be happy to foot the bill for any harm my wit and or beauty has caused you.” 

Potter’s jaw dropped at Lily's quip while Sirius threw his arm around his mate and cackled. “I can see why you’ve been tracing her name every night” Sirius said as he used his other hand to pat James’ chest, “See you at home mate.” 

Sirius untangled himself from a now flustered James and turned to Lily, “Evans, it’s been more of a pleasure than you realize.” With a final wink sent to Lily, Sirius walked off into the crowd. 

“Tracing my name?” Lily posed the question while looking toward his left arm, the sleeve still flush with his wrist, whereas the other sleeve was racked up to his elbow. 

“Well, err,” the flush across his face deepened as James pushed up the sleeve to reveal the arm that Lily had signed a number of days ago. The writing was dark and thick, as if she had written it moments ago. 

“I just really liked the mark you left on me, and I didn’t want to lose it. So I, err, I’ve been tracing it over every night, so it stays with me.” He looked up at her with hopeful eyes. 

“Who knew you were such a softie Potter?” 

“Only around you Evans.” He took a step forward and grabbed her hand, “Thank you for coming, did you have a good time?”

“It was incredible! You were incredible!” Lily felt her face light up as she talked about the concert, “That last song was unreal, I loved where you came in at the end!” 

“Thanks, I wrote the song but it was Remus who came up with that section, he’s the musical genius of the four of us.” 

Potter began leading her towards the exit as he continued on about the song. He held tight to her hand as he walked her out the front doors, his other hand gesturing wildly as he explained the underlying tones of Pete’s keyboard and how it meshed with his chords. 

He stopped just outside of the bar before standing directly in front of her, his smile was reaching across his entire face as he took her in. “Evans you look stunning tonight.” His eyes roamed down her legs before returning to her freckled face. 

“Almost as good as my Hallows apron right?” Lily’s voice came out a bit breathier than usual. 

“Just about” 

James reached out toward her, allowing the crimson locks to run through his fingers as he looked intently at her. Lily struggled to swallow as his eyes ran across her face, his hand tucked her hair behind her shoulder before running down her arm. Shivers ran after his hand until he secured it against her own, pulling her a step closer to his body. 

“Listen, Evans, The boys and I always used to go back to the flat and just hang around after we played here. In the spirit of nostalgia we’re going to be doing it again, and I was hoping you’d come along tonight?” The hopeful smirk was back on his face as he looked down at her. 

“Lead the way Potter.” 

Lily let a smile break across her face as James mirrored her emotion, with a tug on her hand he pulled her alongside him into the night.

[new-sandrafilter]

Timothée Chalamet and Eileen Atkins Interview - British Vogue May 2020

“Maybe your knuckles weren’t bleeding, but there was ice,” Timothée Chalamet tells Dame Eileen Atkins. He is recounting, with no small amount of awe, how he first came to hear of the legendary 85-year-old actor with whom he is about to appear at The Old Vic. It transpires that Oscar Isaac, Chalamet’s co-star in the upcoming blockbuster Dune, was at the receiving end of Atkins’ fist in Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood (all in the name of acting, of course). Chalamet was duly impressed.

“I gave him the worst time of his life,” says Atkins, bristling at the memory, before merrily launching into several candid, very dame-like stories from her time on set – “That was a nightmare movie. A nightmare.”

It is a Saturday afternoon in late February, and the two actors – one a titan of British theatre with an eight-decade career; the other, Hollywood’s most in-demand young leading man, with an insatiable Instagram following – have just finished being photographed together for Vogue. Chalamet, 24, in louche, low-slung denim and a white T-shirt, has folded his Bambi limbs into a chair next to Atkins, whose hawkish frame, in a navy jumper and jeans, belies her 85 years.

“Do you like being called Tim or Timothée or what?” Atkins asks in her warm but brisk RP, all trace of her Tottenham upbringing erased.

“Whatever works,” he replies in a bright American accent, that shock of chestnut hair falling into his eyes. “Anything.”

“So you won’t object to ‘darling’? I call everyone darling. I’m told I mustn’t say it these days.” He assures her he is fine with it: “It’s a rite of passage, being called darling by Dame Eileen Atkins.”

“You always, always, have to put the dame in, otherwise you can’t address me,” she jokes.

It’s good the two are getting all this sorted now. A couple of days after our interview they will begin rehearsals for a seven-week run of Amy Herzog’s play 4000 Miles, in which they star as a grandmother and grandson, each quietly dealing with their own grief. Chalamet takes on the role of Leo Joseph-Connell, a somewhat lost 21-year-old who experiences a tragedy while on a 4,000-mile-long cycle ride with his best friend. Atkins plays Vera Joseph, his widowed 91-year-old grandmother, upon whose Manhattan doorstep Leo unexpectedly arrives in the middle of the night, unsure of where else to go. What follows is a wonderful, and wonderfully witty, study in human relationships, a portrait of two generations with decades between them trying to make sense of the world.

Its stars, who’ve met twice previously, in New York last year, are still very much getting to know each other – and are confident in the appeal. “There are things like this play – hoping I don’t butcher it – where you can just sit back and go, ‘Oh, this is a delicious meal,’” says Chalamet. Atkins agrees. “I have a phrase in mind that I shouldn’t really say because it’s going to sound terrible in print.” Which is? “I find it a dear little play, a really dear little play. I think it should be very moving. But who knows? We might f**k it up.”

It’s unlikely. Atkins has been a regular on The Old Vic’s stage since the 1960s, going toe-to-toe with greats from Laurence Olivier to Alec Guinness, and fellow dames (and close friends) Maggie Smith and Judi Dench. Chalamet, meanwhile, is a relative novice, with only two professional plays under his belt. But since his turn as Elio in 2017’s Call Me by Your Name (for which he was Oscar-nominated), his celluloid rise has been meteoric. Roles in Lady Bird, Little Women, The King and Wes Anderson’s upcoming The French Dispatch have not only earned him the slightly fraught badge of “heart-throb”, but proved him to be among the most captivating actors of his generation.

He says he couldn’t resist the opportunity to come to the capital. “There was something exciting about doing a play that feels very New York in London,” Chalamet explains of taking on the part. He’s a diehard theatre fan, too, revealing he saw the six-and-a-half-hour epic The Inheritance – twice. “There are films like The Dark Knight or Punch-Drunk Love or Parasite that can give you a special feeling. But nothing will be like seeing Death of a Salesman on Broadway with Philip Seymour Hoffman or A Raisin in the Sun with Denzel Washington.”

Herzog’s writing particularly spoke to him. “Leo’s in a stasis that was very appealing to me,” he continues. “We find our crisis in moments of stasis, but there’s an irony to it when you’re young, because the law of the land would have you think that to be young is to be having fun, to be coming into your own. But as everyone at this age who’s going through it knows, it’s often a shitshow.”

It’s safe to say that, in casting terms, director Matthew Warchus, also artistic director of The Old Vic, has hit the jackpot. He first took the play to Atkins three years ago, but it was only towards the end of 2019 that Chalamet came on board. When it was announced, in December, that Hollywood’s heir apparent to Leonardo DiCaprio would be making his London stage debut, the news was met with a level of hysteria not usually associated with the 202-year-old theatre’s crowd.

“Oh, my friends have told me who the audience is,” Atkins chimes in when I ask who they think will be coming to see the show. “It’s 40 per cent girls who want to go to bed with Timothée, it’s 40 per cent men who want to go to bed with Timothée, and it’s 20 per cent my old faithfuls.” Is Chalamet prepared for the onslaught? “I think it will be 100 per cent Eileen’s faithfuls,” he demurs.

On the surface, they can seem quite the odd couple. Chalamet, raised in Manhattan by an American dancer-turned-realtor mother and French father, an in-house editor at the United Nations, may be living a breathless, nomadic movie-star life but there’s an iron core of Gen Z earnestness there. He arrives on set with minimal fuss, even deciding to wear the clothes he came in for one shot, before knocking out some push-ups, politely ordering an omelette and generally being divinely well-mannered.

He turns on the star power for the camera, though, and I can confirm it’s as dazzling up close as it is on the red carpet, where he has, famously, casually redrawn the rules for male dressing. From that Louis Vuitton sparkly bib at the 2018 Golden Globes, to a dove-grey satin Haider Ackermann tux at Venice last year, he’s a true fashion darling. Then, of course, there’s his dating life – from Lourdes Ciccone Leon to Lily-Rose Depp – that remains an endless source of fascination to millions worldwide. (All this, it must be said, is of significantly less interest to Dame Eileen.)

Atkins started dance lessons aged three, shortly before the start of the Second World War. By 12, she was performing professionally in pantomime, not far from where she grew up in north London, the youngest daughter in a working-class family. A fast-established theatre star, wider fame didn’t find her until late in life. Despite memorable turns in Upstairs, Downstairs and Gosford Park, it was the 2000 television hits Cranford and Doc Martin, when she was in her early seventies, that finally made her a household name. Today, she lives alone in west London, since her second husband, the TV and film producer Bill Shepherd, died in 2016. She has often spoken of being happily childless, and has zero time for razzmatazz.

And yet, despite their differences, the pair appear perfectly matched. They already have their grandmother-grandson dynamic down pat. Atkins does a fine line in mischievous eyebrow-raising, and at one point recites a limerick that is, honestly, so rude it almost makes her co-star blush. Chalamet, meanwhile, is politeness personified, still trying to work out his thoughts on various subjects, less inclined to give so much of himself away. There is a physical likeness, too, in their delicate features and fine bone structure. They share a naturally melancholic look, one that melts away when they laugh.

Their upcoming play, which premiered to rapturous reviews Off-Broadway in 2011, “about a block” from Chalamet’s high school, LaGuardia, could have been written for them. “Other than not being American, I’m very like the old woman,” says Atkins of the Pulitzer-shortlisted play. “I can’t be bothered to learn the internet.” If there’s one thing she won’t tolerate in rehearsals, it’s people on their phones. That’s the only thing that will “piss me off ”, she says, brusquely.

Ah, phones. Are they really the symbol of generational disconnect? “It’s easy to point to these things,” Chalamet says, tapping his phone on the table, “as the cause or the symptom, but I think my generation is a guinea pig generation of sorts. We’re figuring out the pros and cons and limits of technology.”

Equally, Atkins is keen to distance herself from some of the criticism levelled at her age group. “There’s a saying isn’t there: if you’re not very left wing when you’re young, you’re heartless. And if you’re not very right wing when you’re old, you’re foolish. I’m not political, but I’m not with this government I can assure you – and I’m not with Brexit. I wanted to wear a sweater saying ‘I did not vote Brexit’, because it was all old people who did. Not me, not me,” she snaps. “I went on the march.”

Both are in agreement that intergenerational friendships are too rare these days. “So. Important,” Chalamet says, hitting the table between each word. “There is so much to learn from people who have walked the path of life. That’s why I’m so looking forward to these next couple of months.”

Atkins is thoughtful on the matter. “I don’t miss the fact I don’t have children, but I do envy my friends who have grandchildren,” she says. “About five or six years ago I met a couple of young people – they are just about 30 this year – and, do you know, we go out together. And people immediately say to me, ‘Are these your grandchildren?’ And I say, ‘No.’ And they say, ‘Your godchildren?’ And I say, ‘No, they’re just friends.’ Everybody thinks there is something weird about all three of us. They just don’t get it. But the boy makes me laugh more than anybody and the girl is enchanting. I have more fun with them than I do with almost anybody else.”

I remind Atkins about her description of today’s youth as being overly serious. “I do call them the New Puritans, yes,” she says, before motioning to her young co-star. “He probably drinks like a fish.”

Chalamet, currently single, is remaining tight-lipped about plans for his new London life, and how many late-night manoeuvres in Soho or Peckham it may involve. “I’ve got friends here, which is nice. But I’m here for this – to be terrified at The Old Vic.”

Before we leave, there is a final thing to clear up – Atkins’ aforementioned limerick. “Do you know about the Colin Farrell situation?” Eileen asks Timothée. No, comes his reply. “Better get it over with now because someone will tell you,” she says, proceeding to explain how, when she was “69, about to be 70” and filming Ask the Dust with a 27-year-old Farrell, “he made a pass at me. He came to my hotel room. He was enchanting. I let him chat for two hours, thoroughly enjoying it, but no not that. He was very cross I didn’t.”

But then, she explains guiltily, she later told the story during “some stupid TV show” (Loose Women), where despite her best efforts at keeping Farrell’s identity secret, the internet did its thing and news got out. An apology to Farrell was required. “So I left a limerick on Colin’s phone…” she says. She clears her throat: “There once was a **** of a dame…” she begins, in her imitable theatrical timbre, before reeling off one of the filthiest rhymes I’ve ever heard.

There is a moment of stunned laughter. “Wow, that’s sincerely amazing,” comes Chalamet’s response, as Atkins finishes the verse. He gives her a solemn oath: “I promise I won’t hit on you.”

4000 Miles is at The Old Vic, SE1, from 6 April

[fific7]

Your Soul is Mine

Sirius Black x Reader

@omgrachwrites 500 Follower Celebration

Angst prompt 13 : I want all of you - your body, your heart, your soul

Summary: Sirius Black is about to be claimed whether he likes it or not... forever.

Warnings: Swearing, spiking, coercion, jealousy, revenge, mentions of sex so 18+please, slight dom/sub overtones. Age of consent is 16 in the UK, sorry if that’s not in line with your own country’s/state’s laws.

A/N: I do not condone spiking or coercive behaviour but the reader’s a bunny boiler, sorry.

(My GIF)

Y/N Y/L/N was a proud and determined Slytherin. Ambitious, smart as a whip, cunning when she needed to be. And she had a temper. Boy - did she have a temper.

But when it hit, she would never explode. Instead she’d become deathly silent, eyes narrowing, lips pulling into a thin line, thoughts whirring, working out exactly how she would bring retribution down on whichever unfortunate soul caused her outrage.

And that was precisely her current condition. She’d been strolling down to the lake, intent on having a short break from studying Potions when, giving a little gasp of excitement, she’d spotted Sirius Black.

He was lying in the shade under under a tree. But ... not alone. He and a girl were entwined like vines, mouths locked together, her hands running up and into his famed wavy long black hair.

Before the rage ensued, Y/N felt the sudden & excruciating pain of a dagger to the heart.

Only two nights ago, Y/N had been the one entwined with him, that beautiful, awful boy - in his bed, in his arms, totally immersed in his sweet kisses and honeyed lies.

“Hey Y/N, of course you’re not like all the others - you’re so special to me.”

“Of course this isn’t a one-time thing!”

“I really think this is the beginning of something beautiful between us.”

Ah, yes. And, clearly, judging by the evidence staring her in the face, that meant being his fucktoy whenever his busy ‘schedule’ allowed for it. An intolerable position for a prideful Slytherin to be in.

Well, fuck that, Sirius Black. And... fuck you too, Sirius Black, six ways from Sunday.

And to add insult to injury, she was supposed to meet him in the Gryffindor common room the following night, for yet another of the Marauders’ parties.

A plan dropped into her seething brain. Yes. Yes... with a little fancy footwork, that could work. A small smirk formed on her lips.

He wouldn’t know what hit him.

*********************************

Sirius had told her to be outside the Gryffindor common room at 9. She was there promptly, of course.

She laughed to herself as she stood waiting outside it. He didn’t even trust her enough to tell her the stupid bloody password to his stupid bloody common room. Her foot tapped in irritation as the clock slowly ticked to 10 past 9. The freaking idiot can’t even be punctual!

The portrait hole eventually opened to reveal a tipsy Sirius, who looked her up & down before licking his lips and holding out his hand to her, drawing her into the room. He was in his off-duty uniform of vintage jeans, rock band t-shirt & Doc Martens. Still looks too hot for his own good, she thought, instantly annoyed at herself for thinking it.

His fangirls were certainly of the same opinion, she thought sourly, judging by the adoring looks coming his way (peppered with jealous dagger looks at her), as he helped her step through into the common room.

“You look gorgeous, angel,” he said, slurring his words just a little bit.

Her skin-tight emerald green dress, sky-high silver heels and artfully messy up-do were designed to get male attention, and it was working like a charm (ha ha).

Not at all pleased by the admiring glances she was attracting, Sirius huffed as he walked her to the table-serving-as-bar, hand on the small of her back, slyly running it up & down as he did so. He poured her a glass of firewhiskey. She downed it in one, and he burst out laughing.

She shrugged, smirking at him, “What?! I’ve got some catching up to do.” She placed her bejewelled clutch bag on the table, next to the bottles of firewhiskey.

His own glass was empty too, and he reached over to pick up both, but she laid her hand on his bare arm.

“Sirius,” she breathed against his ear, “let me fill that right up for you.” She smirked, “And maybe I’ll let you fill me up later on.”

Predictable response from Sirius, she was pleased to see. He froze, eyes meeting hers, mouth slack. “Uh... right. Right... uh, sweetheart.”

She handed his glass to him and he downed it in one. “Sirius! That’s just greedy,” she chided him.

He laughed out loud. “Let’s dance, love.”

*****************************************

Later, much later, they lay tangled together, naked & exhausted, on his bed.

“That was amazing, sweetness,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

“Mmhmm.“ she nodded in agreement. A heartbeat later, “Sirius?”

“Yes, love?”

“Remember how you told me, the first time we were together, that it was the start of something beautiful between us?”

He cleared his throat, “Umm... uhh... yeah?...Yeah.”

“Well... tell me how come I saw you two days later, kissing some mouldy little tart by the lake?”

He tried to sit up, but she pushed his shoulders back down. He held both hands up, palms out in a placatory gesture. “Look, Y/N, that was nothing, it wasn’t my idea, she started it...”

“Oh, and you just gave in, did you?”

“Well, yeah....”

“You know, Sirius, you really should be more careful what you do and what you say to people. I can hardly bear to admit this, but I actually believed what you said, all those lies... all that fucking bullshit.”

“But... Y/N, sweetheart...you know... you know I don’t do...”

“Relationships? Oh, I did hear that once or twice, yes I did, Sirius.” She laughed to herself. “But you should know, I liked to think that I would’ve been the one who finally tamed you - the bad boy. Tied you down, stopped your man-whore ways.”

Her hands on his shoulders kept him pressed down on the mattress. He spotted her placing her wand carefully on the bedside table. What the fuck...??

He was starting to feel really, really dizzy. He broke out in a cold sweat, and Y/N’s voice sounded like it was coming from far, far away, then much closer, then distant again.

He closed and re-opened his eyes, to find hers boring into his, staring intensely at him... did they look, yeah they did look... kind of red? That couldn’t be right. What was happening to him? He shook his head, in an attempt to clear it.

“Well,” she said, “this is your lucky night, sweetheart!” She slowly licked down one side of his neck. He let out a huff of breath.

“You see, I want you, Sirius. And I’m going to have you, it’s as simple as that. And I want all of you, your body, your heart, your soul....!”

His mouth opened, he tried to yell, but no sound came out. He felt invisible tendrils wrapping themselves around him, from neck to toe. Getting tighter and tighter. He couldn’t move and he was starting to gasp for air a little.

“And I’m taking them. All of them, Sirius! ...I’m just gonna take them from you, d’you understand?!”

She shook her head, feigning sorrow & remorse. “You’ve left me no choice, darling, as it’s highly unlikely you’ll give me them of your own free will.” Sirius just stared at her, still not comprehending exactly what was going on.

She trailed a finger down his neck, his chest, his stomach, ran it playfully through his money trail a few times before heading between his legs. She closed her hand over his velvety length, and stroked him firmly a few times. He huffed out some rapid breaths, knowing that he was very quickly getting hard.

“Do you like that, lover?” she purred. He nodded, then quickly shook his head. “Yes or no, which is it, darling?” He nodded again. Why was he incapable of speech, he wondered? Then shook his head again.

Laughing, she said, “I’ve cast a silencing spell on you, by the way - again no choice, sorry, sweetheart! Well, let’s see if this next little number gets you to make a firm decision. Although it’s only a formality, cupcake. Your body - every inch of it - totally belongs to me, after all.”

She leant over, roughly licked his tip, then kissed it lingeringly, before swirling her tongue round it and down his hard length. He writhed under her, still feeling the invisible tentacles curling round him. His head thrashed to & fro on the pillows, desperately trying to ignore the sexual onslaught happening to him, but still unable to.

He froze as he felt her tongue moving slowly & sensually over his balls, then without warning, she grabbed them.

His hips involuntarily hitched upwards. He heard her low laugh, and then she started squeezing, not too hard but still making him totally tense up. She placed her lips against his, kissing him hungrily and forcing her tongue into his mouth. Cupped his cheek, stroking the stubble there and on his chin.

Lips next to his ear, whispering to him.

“I’ve got you by the balls, Sirius, and you will never escape. Never, do you hear me!? “ she smirked in triumph, pulling back to look down at him. She straddled him, knees on either side of his thighs, trapping him even more.

Greedily, she drank in the sight of his handsome face underneath her, silky black hair spread out on the pillow, wide grey eyes staring up at her, long dark lashes resting momentarily on his cheek as he closed them briefly. When he reopened them, she laughed out loud as she saw the lust in them, mixed in with total confusion, he just couldn’t hide it.

She leant closer to him, lips touching his. “You remember how good I am at potions, yeah?”

He nodded, suddenly terrified. He still wasn’t able to speak. She sat back up.

“Well, I cooked up a special little concoction just for you. Slipped it in your firewhiskey earlier. And once I’ve said your name 7 times within 7 minutes, it’s gonna fully kick in ..... and then I’ve got you for eternity.... Sirius!”

Sirius felt the weirdest sensation he’d ever experienced in his life.

He felt as if he and Y/N were melding together. Pulling him up with the sheer power of it. As if his very body, heart & soul were being sucked out of him and being pulled into her body, fixing there permanently in an unbreakable bond.

Then it was over. His body collapsed back onto the mattress. He felt so dizzy...... and weak. So very weak.

Her voice again, whispering, whispering, whispering.

“I possess you now, Sirius. You’re completely and utterly mine, until the end of time.”

********************************************

Sirius quite frankly didn’t know how he’d managed to make it all the way to 16 (almost 17!) without having a steady girlfriend. Now that he’d found Y/N and they were finally together, life was just so wonderful.

He’d bounced downstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast the morning after the party, announcing to the Marauders - and anyone else within earshot - that he’d found the love of his life. To say they were all shocked was an understatement, but Sirius didn’t care. In fact, Sirius seemed almost delirious.

It was in fact Y/N projecting her intense pleasure, through Sirius, at how well her plan had worked out.

All of his moods in future would be hers, but he wouldn’t ever know that.

She’d dug out her Advanced Charms mini-handbook from her clutch bag, after her possession potion had done its work. Pity she couldn’t tell Slughorn about that one - it was truly excellent!

She’d cast a sleeping spell on poor, confused, exhausted Sirius as he lay sprawled on his quilt, and then Obliviated him of everything that happened after leaving the party. She didn’t know the spell that well, as it wasn’t one she’d needed before now, and still had to read up on the details before she cast it.

Y/N had left a note on his pillow, which he’d eagerly grabbed as soon as he awoke. Ah, she’d just nipped down to her own dorm for a nice relaxing shower. He sighed happily, snuggling back under the quilt. His girlfriend, his lover, his soulmate. He loved her so very much.

(What he didn’t know was that Y/N was totally shattered after her little excursion into the Dark Arts. She ducked out of classes for that whole day. But she still had no regrets whatsoever. As she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, she chortled to herself, guessing that Muggle psychiatrists would probably deem her to be a sociopath. At the very least.)

Sirius almost felt like there was a telepathic link between the two of them. Amazing! Any time he even looked at another girl, Y/N’s face would appear unbidden in front of his eyes.

Her sultry, soothing, controlling voice would reverberate in his head, “Now, now, Sirius, down, boy! Remember who you belong to, yeah? ... I’m the only one who gets to touch you. Good boy, good boy!!” and he would feel the immediate need to run off and find her. Which he usually did, unless he was in class.

Whenever he did find her, she’d immediately demand sex from him. She made him strip in front of her. He would willingly peel off his clothes, as she lay back & watched him reveal that slim & athletic body she adored. She made him have sex in every single position she could imagine. Tied him to the bed all night, sometimes. “C’mon, Sirius! sex all night!” she’d order, like an Army Sergeant Major.

He felt compelled to obey her. Until he was so exhausted that by the morning light, he could hardly walk. He didn’t really mind the sleepless nights and jelly legs. Well, he couldn’t disappoint his darling girlfriend, could he?

She would smirk and run her hands through his hair, the same way that tart by the lake had. Not any more, love - sorry. Not sorry. In the least. Y/N would murmur his name and praise his prowess.

Funnily enough, the ‘girl from the lake’ had come looking for him, two days after the party. Y/N felt like that was poetic justice. She’d been suggesting another ‘interlude’ by the water. Sirius told her he didn’t know A) who she was and B) what she was talking about.

She didn’t notice Y/N lounging on the sofa behind Sirius, advanced charms book laying open at the O’s, smirking with wand in hand. The girl burst into tears and ran off, never to return. Y/N smiled so broadly, her face hurt.

She sometimes wondered if she loved him. She wasn’t sure, and didn’t really care, to be honest. She was totally obsessed with him, she knew that. And she owned him. Every piece of him. That was more than enough for her.

His fangirls were all broken-hearted; they were forever going to be out of luck in future.

His friends laughed at him, saying he was just so whipped.

Anytime she saw the grieving fangirls, or overheard his friends’ comments, a small, self-satisfied smile would appear on Y/N’s face. She’d sigh happily, and go back to her Potions essay.

**********************************************************

[gayoperatorgunclub]

For the ultimate ship meme, Lion and Doc? I'm sorry, I'm LionDoc trash-

it’s all good!! whenever someone sends in an ask, i get an excuse to talk/write about one of my interests! really, it makes me so happy to be able to create content that people hopefully enjoy!! 💝💝💝

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - until the end of time, babey

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - it was love at first sight but then they started talking i do think it was some form of ~interest~ in one another at first sight, but then all that drama and lack of communication happened so they didn’t really allow themselves to even dream about the possibility of a relationship. HOWEVER! once lion joined rainbow and they talked their shit out like people who know how to cope, there was a period of a few months that is now referred to as The Four Months of Pining™, during which glaz did a lot of paintings where the subject (who usually bears an uncanny resemblance to doc or lion) is staring at something (or someone) longingly. he calls it his french period. when they finally get together, a LOT of money changes hands. and goes straight into sledge’s pocket (he was the only one who bet that it would take them this long). diana gets a brand new collar (handmade), bed (handmade), dish (handmade), and many new toys (some handmade, some store-bought. sledge’s craftsmanship can only get him so far) 

How was their first kiss? - you know how the french are supposed to be super suave and confident??? and how gay people are trying their hardest but they’re just Not Good at things????? (i know these are stereotypes but stay with me). well, with their 5/8 french blood (i hc one of doc’s parents is fully algerian while the other is half french, half algerian), and their 4/4 gay blood, they have an 81.25% chance of success in matters of the heart. sadly, that 18.75% chance of failure came into play during this situation. picture it. doc and lion. romantic, home-cooked dinner. le festin is playing in the background. they’re holding hands over the table. suddenly, doc’s cat goes into labour. all hell breaks loose. lion is getting flashbacks to his son’s birth, so now he’s hyperventilating. doc carries him to the couch and turns on the fan so he can cool off and catch his breath, before carefully moving his cat, Rayie (arabic for gorgeous, pronounced rye-ah) to the living room in his handmade Birthing Box, then grabs a pile of blankets and a heat lamp and situates himself on the ground nearby so he can help her if she needs it. once the kittens are born (they’re twins!! Sadiqi is the boy, and Amirti is the girl!!!) doc makes sure they’re nice and warm and that Rayie is recovering, and gives her pets while she cleans her babies. once the happy family is all settled in for the night, doc walks over to the couch and just. lays down on top of lion. once he’s gotten over the adrenaline of the birth, he takes lion’s face in his hands and says “promise me you’ll be more calm if we ever decide to have kids” and gives him a BIG smooch while lion’s just short-circuiting like “does he know i have a son???? did i forget to mention my son?????? also what about these kittens??? are they not sufficiently childish to count as children????? DOES HE WANT KIDS????? does he want to marry me??????? wait why is he getting so clo-”

Wedding:

Who proposed? - lion. it was the day of their two year anniversary (yes i AM saying they got together the august after outbreak don’t @ me) and they were on vacation at doc’s family’s Secret Beach House. they were vibing on the balcony, watching the sunset, when lion suddenly clears his throat. doc turns to look at him and finds his boyfriend down on one knee, looking like he might flee to Bermuda. he’s reaching for something in his pocket. doc starts laughing. lion, completely misunderstanding his reaction, flushes and stammers out an apology. doc sees this, and immediately stops, though he’s still smiling gleefully as he catches lion by the biceps, then reaches into his own pocket and pulls the ring he was going to give olivier. they exchange rings, giggling like little kids, and spend the rest of the night making out on whatever surfaces are available. 

Who is the best man/men? - for lion? montagne. (his son is the ring bearer and doc’s niece is the flower girl). for doc? rook. he’s so happy he gets to participate in his dad’s wedding

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - for lion: finka. for doc: twitch

Who did the most planning? - both of them!! do you know how hard they worked to ensure the ceremony was valid in the eyes of both of their religions

Who stressed the most? - s e e  a b o v e

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - lion’s parents. they tried to call him during the reception but doc’s grandma grabbed his phone and started cussing them out, talking about dishonor and how they tried to disown him so they’re not his parents anymore, and besides, his new family absolutely adores him, so really, it’s their loss. once she hangs up, she pulls lion into a hug and he calls her his favorite, if only, grand-mère

Sex:

Who is on top? - who’s topping? lion. but sometimes doc gets bitchy so he gets to set the pace if you know what i mean

Who is the one to instigate things? - they are both lowkey horny 24/7 so 👀👀👀

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now (only because they do get to see each other fairly often. if one goes on a long mission without the other, once they get back they will bump it up to a 10 real quick)

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - idk long enough ig. maybe longer if someone feels they’ve been left ~unsatisfied~ they might go a few more rounds ;))

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - ok it depends on what they’re doing but usually it’s one or two each, but on ~special~ occasions it’s either doc getting edged and denied for hours, OR doc getting forced to come over and over again until he’s begging for something, whether it be more or a goddamn break even he isn’t really sure. either way he’s crying and lion is consistently asking if he needs to safeword and otherwise checking in because they may like it rough but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - unless someone’s hormones and organs get fucked, zero

How many children will they adopt? - probably none?? idk they’ve already got lion’s son and they’re both busy enough with work so

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - NEITHER!!!!! DISGUSTANG!!!!!!!!!

Who is the stricter parent? - god i wanna say both. like lion and his attachment to rules??? but doc and his Mom Friend energy????? but ig lion BUT HE’S NOT STRICT TO THE POINT HE’S A BUZZKILL OR ANYTHING HE’S JUST RESPONSIBLE (he will NOT allow his husband and son to go vandalize the property of some islamaphobic brits, as much as he agrees with the sentiment) 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - doc will only allow vandalism if it’s in the name of righteousness. meaning, he’ll allow their son to spray paint the walls of a goddamn walmart with shit like “eat the rich” and a portrait of robespierre and a guillotine, but it is a HARD NO on defacing places like the library or community center (unless he has a good reason to do so). lion spends his time praying and making sure his son knows which acts of civil disobedience are acceptable and which are distorting their goal 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - doc. he (privately) dreams of retiring (eventually) and living out his lifelong dreams of being a househusband. so

Who is the more loved parent? - SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE IM GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS. but ig lion??? BUT ONLY BECAUSE THEIR SON HAS KNOWN HIM LONGER. doc is half Dad and half Cool Uncle Who Gives Me Spray Paint And Tells Me To Make Myself Heard (to clarify, i know doc is a pacifist, but im kinda projecting my own sentiment of “we’ve tried to be peaceful but you wouldn’t give us the time of day. now that we’ve “acted out” we’ve gotten your attention, and rest assured, things are going to change.” he won’t hurt anybody, he’s just tired of having to be everyone’s “muslim friend” and educating people on things they could google themselves)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - it used to be lion out of necessity, but when people started asking about his “wife” he was really torn between telling them that he and his son’s mother separated, but now he has a partner and his son seems very happy about it. when doc finally attends a meeting with lion, people really struggle to hide their shock. a few clunky but well-meaning “we support you”’s and “we’re sorry for everything that’s been going on”’s later, doc has used his charm to make friends with literally everyone. from then on, he is on pta duty on behalf of lion and his ex

Who cried the most at graduation? - lion! his parents purposefully didn’t show at his, so it’s a big deal for him to show his son just how proud he is. doc tears up a little too, but manages to mostly keep it together so he can support lion, who spends most of the day heave-crying about how proud he is into his husband’s shoulder. gustave just pats him on the back and tells him that they’ll run out of donuts if they don’t get to the concession stand soon

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - doc. civil disobedience, baby!! he has never been caught. lion fears the law after his youth, so he tries to avoid any visits to law enforcement. he also can’t stand to see his son behind bars

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - doc. househusband, remember?

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - doc, but only because he can be a bit of a spice supremacist. he has to get his ingredients from these very specific farms and markets or else his great grandmother will begin manifesting in their house to curse them

Who does the grocery shopping? - doc, bc he does NOT trust lion to not just sweep all of the microwave ramen and kraft mac n cheese into the cart then sprint to self-checkout

How often do they bake desserts? - whenever possible. doc and maestro live by the philosophy “don’t do anything halfway” if they’re going to go through the trouble of making a meal, it will have multiple courses. 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - doc is more of a salad eater but only for ease of consumption with halal laws. he adores filet mignon

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - lion! maestro enlists himself as assistant head chef after walking into the base’s kitchen one day to find lion covered in flour and lying facedown on the floor, crying

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - also lion! though he’s memorized doc’s order at all of their favorite restaurants, so he usually just gets take out and puts on a big show of being a “tired housewife who works in the kitchen all day just for this one meal” and setting up the table so it’s all nice and romantic

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - lion. he tried crème brûlée once. never again 

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - lion. organization is everything to this man. doc helps with laundry and such, but for the most part he leaves organization to lion and his systems (think leslie knope levels of planning and organization)

Who is really against chores? - neither! they both understand that teamwork makes the dream work, baby!!

Who cleans up after the pets? - doc, since lion’s already asked him which color hanger should represent “clothes i can tear off my husband before we fuck” and he needs a Moment

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - neither. they don’t own a broom

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - lion because of the deep-seated catholic urge to appear perfect in front of others, and doc because people will gossip, olivier!

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - lion. he immediately called doc into the room and asked “is this your stash of drug money?” doc, who had been asleep because it was 3 in the morning on a saturday, just stares at him

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - it is so bold to assume they don’t shower together to “cut costs”

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - lion is known in their neighborhood as the man who walks cats. there is a facebook page where people post pictures of him walking his cats. vigil is an admin

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - LITERALLY EVERY HOLIDAY GETS DECORATIONS. lion makes his own for the muslim holidays since there really aren’t many “of good quality” in stores. when they first started dating, doc came home to find his house covered in ramadan decorations, and lion standing precariously on a ladder, trying to string up fairy lights while learning how to pronounce important arabic words. needless to say, doc cries

What are their goals for the relationship? - mutual joy and contentment!!!! 

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - doc. he’s sleepy

Who plays the most pranks? - lion, but they’re stupid ones like replacing certain pictures with danny devito. doc gets back at him by replacing pictures of jesus with ewan mcgregor, and putting yoda into his nativity scene. lion doesn’t notice

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Crimson Shadows 2

Jercy Vampire AU: Percy

masterlist; information post for fic

I was debating whether i should change traditional things like greetings but then i realised this is my fic and im writing it for purely self indulgent purposes so like i could if i wanted. Thanks for joining in on my hedonism! Please enjoy.

Perseus steps onto the creaky wooden floor of his ostentatious 16th century mansion and mentally reminds himself for the two-hundredth time that he needs to get someone in to fix it. The worst thing about being immortal, he has come to learn, is that he procrastinates everything ten times harder. At least his teenage self would be impressed with his tactics, even if his mother was rolling in her grave.

The house is unusually quiet for an Orion morning and he strains his already sonic hearing to catch the sounds of silent footfalls and bustling bodies. But the wind rushes through the space and there are no other noises. A flutter gives in his chest as he steps into the kitchen to find breakfast waiting for him and a note folded neatly next to it.

Hey Doc,

Twins have gone to Bharatanatyam class and Hoku went to the beach. I’m just picking stuff up at the grocer, be home in a jiff.

- Keeya

He releases a breath and sits down at the table with a smile. The delicious smell of eggs and blood hit him as he takes off the cover to reveal a plate of eggs benedict, hash-browns and a small glass of ichor. He shoots down the blood, content to let it work through him as he gobbles down the heavenly breakfast. He knows Keeya cooked because she was always experimenting with food, always in here creating dishes and making them beg to eat whatever is giving off that sublime smell. Just as he cuts into a hash brown he hears the door shut and hurried footsteps rushing towards him.

“To the Sun,” Keeya flurries into the kitchen, face blocked by brown paper bags stuffed to the brim with what he’s sure to be her latest concoction.

“Amongst the Stars,” His lips twitch in amusement, “Early morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep so i-” Her voice muffles as she busies herself packing items in the pantry, “-thought I’d start on breakfast but while i was looking for an eggs benny recipe i came across this golden cake and-” Her head pops out of the pantry, black eyes flashing with excitement, “Doc when i tell you i almost died right there, it sounded so good. Anyway of course i had to leave immediately to get all the things we didn’t have.” She finally collapses onto a stool across from him and takes a breath.

He hides a laugh and waits for the rest of the story, because with Keeya there is always more. 

“Anyway i get to the shop-” She starts. He covers his inescapable laugh with a cough. “And they don’t have desiccated coconut. Can you believe that? I mean it’s the main ingredient in the damn cake. So I was panicking a little because it’s the closest shop open at that time, the others I'd have to take a train for which is so inconvenient?” She gives him an incredulous look. He nods seriously; inside he is fighting off giggles. “But they found some in the back, thank the stars, and then I just grabbed a few things because it’s ‘make your own pizza’ night and I think some people from the Araw house are joining us.”

“Sounds fun, is Elouan going to be here?” He pops the last bit of poached egg in his mouth and looks at her expectantly.

She makes a disapproving face, “No, he’s off with his new partner. I don’t trust them at all.”

“Why?” Perseus is on guard immediately, fingers curling, hair sensitive, and gums stinging with the need to unsheathe his fangs. 

“Their vibe is off,” Her nose scrunches up, “Like they’re used to getting into trouble and bailing out.”

“I’ll tell Elly to be careful but maybe go with him next time Kee,” He suggests, a tentative look in his eyes as her own widen.

“All we’ll do is argue, and besides, he hates me hanging out with his friends.”

“Ever asked him why?” He has a feeling about it but he’ll never voice it. No, the two can come to their own conclusions. After all, they had forever to figure it out.

“I don’t care why. He’s a dick and I'm not interested in anything he has to say.”

He shrugs but leaves the conversation, and the kitchen, so Keeya can do her thing. He has some admin to do anyway; a dreary task but one that must be done all the same. Besides without the twins and Hoku the house is absurdly silent, so he needs something to occupy himself.

His study is actually a little desk situated in their library. It’s his favourite room in the house for the opulent fireplace that stays lit through Baridi and serves as a soot-slide in Caldu, and of course the books which although he doesn't read many of, remind him of his mother. He has been alive for almost three hundred years and there is hardly a day that goes by when he doesn’t think of her. For every part of him that isn’t human, there’s a part of her that makes him so. He stares up at the portrait of her hanging near the doorway, painted by a friend long gone and with a loving smile gets to work.

He sorts, and signs, and stamps, and notes in an endless cycle until finally his finances are in order, his donations are chequed and his letters are sealed. He’s sure Hoku will groan endlessly about receiving yet another letter under their pillow and try to explain that email is much more convenient and faster for everyone. Perseus tilts his head to the ceiling and watches the stars dance as he plays out the conversation in his head.

“Doc, I really appreciate the effort you put into sending us letters but this is not the eighteenth century, just use email.”

“Hoku i like the letters, they’re personal and calming to write.”

“Doc, emails are more convenient and i can take them anywhere.”

“Okay I’ll stop giving you letters. I’ll just give the others.”

“What? No? That’s a terrible idea. I still want my letters.”

And they would have the conversation every month without fail. It is a rather amusing part of the routine and sometimes Perseus purposefully makes Hoku’s letters a little longer, just to bother them. A secret best kept as such, but funny nonetheless.

“DOC!” A voice screams through the house, shattering his ear drums.

The twins.

He steps out of the library, and half jogs to the source of the noise, which he discovers is coming from the entertainment room. 

“To the Sun, you two.”

Serafina looks up first, her brown eyes shining with never-ending energy. The anklets on her feet jingle as she runs towards him and slams her body into his. He holds firm as he catches her and wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Amongst the Stars,” She mumbles, face buried in his shirt.

“How was Bharatanatyam?”

She gasps, stepping out of his embrace and squealing with delight. “Doc we have to show you what we learnt! Aaru come!” Her dark eyebrows knit together as she focuses on her brother.

“Tusa Aarush.” Perseus smiles, squatting down so he’s level with the boy. A little hand, the colour of cherry wood, reaches up to give him a high-five. A standard greeting for the quiet brother; a complete opposite to his outgoing sister.

“Aaru are you ready?” Serafina comes to stand beside them, after setting up the sound system.

He nods and moves so they’re in the middle of the room. Quickly they do the opening prayer before Serafina bounces to the sound bar and presses play. The sweet, sturdy music fills the room and then they're going through a whole routine. Stamping their feet in a rhythm that matches the beat perfectly. Aarush pinches his fingers and fans them out. A closed flower opening, he recognises. They do a series of moves all impressive and beautiful, before the music fades and they pose, breathless with exertion and excitement. 

He claps enthusiastically and opens his arms for hugs. “You did wonderfully!” Serafina slams into him. Aarush gives him another high-five. “When is the performance?”

“Not for a long time Doc.” The little girl says, as if he should know this. She heads off to fiddle with the speakers. 

“In two months,” Aaru answers. His voice is clear and even. He is quiet but not soft. “In Pluto.”

“Ah, I'll make sure I have it down in the calendar.” The little boy's face lights up like a stadium and Perseus’ heart clenches with love. The twins had only been living with him for half a century but within the first year they had him completely wrapped around his fingers. Their claimed age is ten but their true age is one hundred and two. He found them shivering behind a dumpster in Orman, their skin stretched across their bones and that rabid look of underfed vampire in their eyes. He had taken them in and given them blood and a bed for the night, which turned into a week, and then a month. Before he knew it he was bringing them to this house in Roshani where they had immediately fallen in love with the city and made it their home.

“Fina, i’m going to shower.” Aarush states and without further flurry he leaves.

“Is everything okay with classes? All of them, not just Bharatanatyam.” Perseus asks the talkative twin.

“Yes,” She nods, unclipping her anklets. Her voice lowers, serious bleeding in. It is hard to forget their age, true or claimed, when this happens. Because suddenly their bubbly little girl who flits around the house and talks your ear off and throws herself into everything with the vivacity of a ten year old, disappears. In her place is the century old girl who has experienced more of life’s pleasures and hardships than most of the world can only begin to imagine.

“We’re covered for everything. And Aaru starts teaching a new linguistics course on Monday so he’ll have some cash to fling around. Although,” She rolls her eyes, “We all know he’ll just put it in his account and let it sit like a fat cat.”

He laughs, flicking her nose at her distaste for her brother’s complete lack of spending. “He likes to invest in stocks and give it away. You know he doesn’t hoard.”

“I know i know,” She grumbles, scrunching her nose, “I just wish he’d spend some on himself.”

“I think he thinks you spoil him enough.”

“I don’t spoil him nearly enough. Most times I try to buy him something and he just shuts it down. Like last Draco i tried to buy him that new puzzle he was talking about and he just slammed my laptop shut.”

She looks so put out he can't help but giggle, and when she scowls at him for it he pulls her in for a hug and kisses her head. “He likes to do things with you. Maybe try getting things you guys can do together.” She brightens at that, and he can see the gears turning in her sharp mind. “Alternatively, save up all the buying for special occasions like Birthdays or Turning or Koro day.” She hums in acknowledgement but her thoughts are still going a mile a minute so he steps out and lets her work it through.

The house is alive again: Keeya is still in the kitchen, and by the sounds of it Hoku too, begging for something. Elouan still isn’t in and he cannot stop the trinkle of worry that falls between his ribs. Trying to keep it out of his mind he walks towards the noise and is greeted by the site of countertops covered in dishes filled with all sorts of delights. The smell is enough to put him in a coma. And Hoku sits on the counter, pale blue eyes puppy-wide with pleading. He glances to their wrist and sees the sunshine yellow band. She/her today then. It gets exhausting, she had told them, to continuously have to announce yourself to the world, especially when you didn’t know how the world would react. 

“Hoku,” Keeya sighs, “I am not giving you the poli until you go and change. You smell like seaweed.” The coconut-stuffed pastry pockets sit on the counter, still piping hot from the oil they had just been fried in. 

“Awww come on Kee, i just need one. I’ll pass out in the shower if i don’t get it and then it’ll be all your fault.”

Keeya’s eyes roll so far back he’s worried she’ll get them stuck behind her sockets. But they roll forward and give Hoku a very pointed glare.

“Get your ass out of my kitchen and go and shower, you irritation!” She scolds; rendered a little ineffective by the flour smeared across her cheek which is a startling contrast to her brown-scapolite skin.

“You are the absolute worst.” Hoku sulks as she slides off the stool and trudges to the entrance. "Tusa Doc.” The sigh is heavy and he struggles to keep in the laughter threatening to spill past his lips. It is never a dull moment in the Aarde House. Perseus collapses onto the stool Hoku had just vacated and lets loose the smile he had been trying to hide. Keeya returns it with one of her own and then launches into a conversation about her latest creations.

Hours later they had moved from food talk, which made him unfathomably hungry, to her teaching, to his own escapades and ideas. She laughed as he recounted the night out he had some weeks ago and the beautiful blue-haired person he had taken a bodyshot on. But soon the sun is sinking to the city floor and the people in the house emerge from their various rooms to congregate in the kitchen, which serves as the house hangout spot. Keeya had packed most of the food away, save for a loaf of fresh bread and the poli Hoku had been begging for. She puts the kettle on and starts up the coffee machine, chattering away as she did. 

Aarush shuffles into the room and immediately takes up a spot next to Perseus. Serafina and Hoku walk in next talking about knee pains and sore feet.

“Did you guys bother to put ice packs or kinaesthetic tape on?” Keeya raises an eyebrow. They both stick their tongues out at her, and move to sit on the opposite side of the table.

“Hoku,” Aaru settles his brown eyes on her, “Will you teach me how to do the splits? My Bharatanatyam teacher says i need to learn to be more flexible.”

Hoku is already nodding enthusiastically, “Of course A, i can absolutely teach you. But you should know flexibility doesn’t come from doing the splits it comes from muscle control and ligament manipulation.”

“I read up about it but i don't feel confident enough to try on my own.”

A gleam enters Hoku’s blue eyes, “You should come with me to a ballet class. Elouan is doing piano for us next week in preparation for our concert coming up. We’ll be able to get the studio to ourselves for a little while.”

“Sure,” Aru shrugs, “Sounds fun.”

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Serafina tugs her twin's sleeve, looking at him with hurt in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to bother you, and besides Hoku teaches ballet I figured she’d be the best bet for me.”

Serafina looks like she’s going to say something, argue maybe, but then the last of their little household walks in and conversation drifts.

“Past the Moon, Elouan,” Perseus smiles at the oldest of the group, save for him.

A floppy smile transforms a pasty face. As he hobbles towards them, leaning heavily on his walking stick, he mumbles a round of greetings.

“How are you?” Keeya asks once he’s settled into a chair next to her.

“I could do with some food and maybe some blood but otherwise just peachy.” His moonlight white curls fall into his face and he pushes them back absentmindedly.

“Can we finally have the poli now?” Hoku glares at their baker, rebellion already flashing in her blue eyes.

“Dig in you little heathen,” Keeya shoves the plate towards her and they all descend. 

Tea and coffee are passed around as well as small glasses of blood for any of them that need it. Perseus and the twins refrain, having had their fill at some point during the day but they happily dig into the coconut pastry and drink copious amounts of coffee.

“So,” Elouan says around a mouthful of poli, “Who’s coming with me to the Red Queen tomorrow?”

“Me!” Hoku shouts immediately. Ever the party animal.

“I’d love to.” Keeya mumbles behind her tea, suddenly shy.

“No thanks.” Aarush pulls a face and goes back to stacking the knives into a precarious tower.

“Fina? Doc?”

“I have to work on stuff for varsity but maybe next time.” Serafina shrugs a shoulder, her brown eyes glazing over as her mind goes back to working a mile a minute.

“I’ll let you know after our dinner tonight. I think some of the Houses want to call a meeting tomorrow to discuss funding and housing in a few cities.”

“You should invite them along,” His white eyebrows knit together in thought, “You guys should invite anyone you want.”

“What’s got you so friendly?” Keeya gives a suspicious look.

“Arrow said they wanted to meet you.”

Her face pulls into something resembling horror, “Uh never mind i think i have stuff to do, maybe next time.”

Elouan pins his honey eyes on her and they look more like the sting of the bee than the gold of the nectar. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I don’t trust them.” She bites out, setting her mug down with a hard crack.

“You don’t even know them. You’re just being judgmental because they’ve turned a few innocents.”

“It’s not just that Elouan,” Where he is the sky, Keeya is the earth. “They are leading you to the dens and soon you’ll be following in their footsteps.”

Perseus was content to ignore their argument and continue talking to everyone else or eating his way through the feast, but that angered whisper steals his attention. “You’ve been going to the dens?”

“I went twice and i didn't even do anything.” He rolls his eyes.

“It’s not about what you do El,” Keeya’s voice is lethal with fury, and worry. “It’s about what gets done in there.” 

“It’s not safe Elouan. Not only for you but if something happens you put a target on all of our backs. And I will not have you endangering anyone in this house just to look cool for your new partner.” There is no compromise in Perseus’ hard green eyes.

The younger vamp sees this and nods once. “I won’t go to the dens again, Doc.”

“Right now that we have that sorted,” He leaves no room for further say on the topic, “What do you need us to do for dinner before the Araw House gets here, Kee?”

He sees her hide the emotions still burning in her eyes before she claps her hands and puts them to work. And when the members of the Araw house arrive there is no lingering anger suffocating the kitchen. It is bright and loud and messy. It is home.

“Tamo, tamo, everyone!” Musical greetings come from the front of the house and a few seconds later Drew Tanaka and Charles Beckendorf appear in the doorway, as radiant and deadly as always.

Drew looks devastating in a blood red jumpsuit and a gold choker glittering at her neck. Charles has a hand wrapped around her and looks just as sinful in an emerald green suit lined with the most startling azure. His wedding band glints in the soft yellow lights of the kitchen and the two rubies encrusted in it match the band around Drew’s finger.

“Towards the Moon, old man,” Drew sits down with the grace of a dancer who has been perfecting their art for centuries. 

“Who are you calling old man?” Perseus scoffs, “I’m only one month older than you. Besides Charlie is the old man.” 

The subject in question rolls his eyes and shoves both their shoulders, flashing his fangs. His wife just laughs waggling perfectly sculpted eyebrows that suggest more than any of them are willing to interpret.

“Where’s the rest of your chaotic crew?” He motions to the lack of people that usually surrounded them.

“They’re all busy tonight, something about the Safe Haven Sound.” Charlie shrugs, “I’m actually surprised none of you guys went. It was apparently some big event.”

Hoku makes a face that means trouble. Nobody stops her. “It’s mostly for new vamps trying to enter the world. There’s a lot that can go wrong. We tend to stay away.”

Drew turns to her sharply, “Who runs it?”

“The Underboss.” Hoku makes another, more disgusted face.

“Actually,” Keeya says quietly, “It’s the Underboss’ lackey that runs it. The Underboss just owns it.”

“Ugh i hate that slimy little shit more than my ex.”

“Hoku,” Serafina frowns, “Give Luke some credit. At least he was hot.”

Perseus lets a smile loose at that. “Octavian is not ugly, he’s just ghaunt.”

“Doc,” Elouan raises a brow, “He is a ghost.”

“Literally? Aarush frowns, the first thing he’s said since their guests arrived.

“No,” Drew has a contemplative look on her face, “At least i don’t think so.”

“He was part of the Trials.” Charlie adds “That’s what i’ve heard anyway.”

Perseus shudders inwardly as he remembers those dark times. Power-hungry people, people who had no right to participate in their world, had taken it upon themselves to try and create their own supernatural creatures. It was a horrible, terrifying time for humans and duniyarall alike. They had stopped it before it had become the war it intended to be but it was deemed unethical to kill the products of those experiments. So, even today, a century and a half later, there are still Triallers- as they had been so creatively named- roaming, existing, living. For the most part they seem to be peaceful, despite being created for violence, but there are some like the Underboss’ lackey that still give an off-vibe; like feral is just around the corner, one blink away.

“How about we make some pizzas?” Keeya interrupts their conversation before they dive into what will inevitably become a two hour discussion.

“Let’s!” Serafina claps her hands, and Hoku matches her as they hop up and dive towards the fridge where cut and readied ingredients sit.

The evening is chaotic, and bright and full of laughter. They discover that between all their years of life, none of them had ever learnt how to toss pizza dough. Charlie and Keeya make a deal to go to Italy and learn before the decade is out. Drew sees the trip as a chance to get a tan in the beautiful Italian heat, and be fed delicious food straight from her husband’s hands. They make the most of the evening, a rare and peaceful one that recharges the energy in them like bolts of lightning. Perseus hasn’t felt this content in many many moons. 

Soon enough, however, it is just Elouan, Charlie, and Drew sitting on the velvet couches of their lounging area, chatting quietly as they sip various expensive liquor.

He looks at his friends, the gentle glow of the chandelier striking their features. They are beautiful. It is a warm kind of beauty, noticeable in the softness of an expression, or the happiness of a moment. They’re angelic.

“Doc?” Elouan drags him out of his quiet admiration.

“Sorry?”

“Drew and Charlie were just discussing what to do about the hotel on Palace road,” The moonlight caught in his hair ripples as he speaks. “They wanted to find out if you’d be okay with extraction?”

Perseus nods, considering the angles, the necessities

“I don’t feel it’s right to go in armed.” Charlie looks around the room, that composed intensity washing over them. “They’re children, and they’re probably scared.”

The frown between Drew’s perfect brows deepens. “I heard there’s cubs and sangrinos inside.”

“Who’s getting them food? How do they leave? What’s keeping them there?”

A loud ding sounds from someone in the room, and Elouan scrambles to reach his phone. The screen is bright in the dimly lit space and he has to blink hard to adjust his eyes, but then he lets out a curse and rushes towards the door, leaning deeply into stick as the anger worsens his limp.

“Everything okay El?”

“Just Arrow.” He waves it off, “I’ll be back before sun.”

Perseus just nods, watching as the large wooden doors slam shut behind the vampire. When he hears the front door bang, he stands, bowing to his guest in a sign of quick return and steps out of the room in search of members of their household.

“Keeya, Aaru.” He calls from the parlor.

They arrive within seconds, her with a face mask on and her dressing gown half tied, and him with charcoal smudges on his cheeks, and a loose paper in his hand.

‘Doc?” Keeya frowns, sensing the urgency in his aura.

“Elouan just stepped out to help Arrow. Please will you two trace him, make sure he isn’t going to the dens. Don’t make yourself known until you know it’s safe.”

“Armed?” The steel reflecting in Aarush’s dark eyes calm Perseus’ nerves.

“No.” He doesn’t need to cause trouble with the Underboss. “Just make sure Elouan is okay. No violent blood is spilled tonight at your hands.” The volatile expression on the little vampire’s face lessens only a fraction. They both nod at him and disappear into their rooms to ready themselves.

He goes back to the lounge, and continues his discussion with his friends. When he hears the front door close, the quiet click echoing in his mind like a drum, he tells Charlie and Drew what is happening.

Drew, ever the mother, is immediately righteous, demanding she send out some of her pack as scouts. Charlie just holds her hand and looks to him with that expression that so often graces his face: how can we help?

Perseus smiles at Drew and her anger, understanding how she feels. “It is okay Tanaka,” He reassures her. “I’ve got it covered. We should talk about the children.”

She growls, and he can hear the wolf in her throat. “You will let us know if you need help Perseus.”

“Yes,” Even Charlie looks adamant, unstoppable. “We will not be in the dark again. Not when it comes to our own.”

He breathes, and it has taken two centuries to get here. To this moment. “I will ask for help if the time comes.”

“The Underboss is holding them in the hotel, and bribing them with food to join her army.” Just like that they move onto the next problem. The next call for help.

“Well then,” Perseus grins, and it looks like the first signs of destruction, “i guess we’ll be paying the Queen a visit.”

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

Elouan my love what are you doing????? Also: Who do you think the Queen is? *sus eyes*

Tags (if you want to be added to/taken off the tag list all my channels of communication are open):

@msdrpreist; @sparkythunderstorm; @aalikun; @crazy-stupid-bean; @queen-of-demons-and-hell; @pjo-hp-things; @nishlicious-01; @spoopylucy; @larrikin-is-a-himbo; @cyra04​; @leydiangelo​; @elecsinnerz​

[carolmaximoffs]

THE GOOD DOCTOR

CHAPTER TEN

Ch. Summary: Having successfully wooed Thea long ago, Sam puts a ring on it. For now, all is well. 

Warnings: cursing, endgame/infinity war spoilers, drinking (in the context of a wedding reception)

Pairings: Sam Wilson x OFC

A/N: short and sweet ending. if you’re not caught up with tgd, you can read the rest of the story here, but otherwise this is it! i love thea so so much and i really enjoyed writing her. i hope this lives up to sam/thea shipper’s standards bc this chapter is all fluff...if people are interested maybe i’ll throw together a blurb or two later, but like i said, for now, this is the end. 

Tagging some people so it isn’t lost in the tl: @star-spangled-beard-burn​ @suz-123​ @curtainlover​ @annathesillyfriend​

With the unique hell of her past, déja vu is thankfully not something Thea is overly familiar with. However, standing on the compound’s roof staring out into the sunset, a tingling of familiarity creeps up her spine. When she turns, he’s there, and when she blinks, he doesn’t disappear. Sam is real once more, in her arms like he has been for the past year. Thea buries her face into his chest as he runs a hand over her braids.

“Technically, it’s bad luck to see each other before the wedding.” Sam’s voice is soft, joking, but Thea still halfheartedly drives a fist into his gut. 

“Shut up, Wilson,” She grumbles into his shirt. “Not ever letting go of you again if I don’t have to.” 

Sam tucks her head closer to his heart, calloused hands cradling her to him. “I know, honey, I know.”

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

Wanda gapes as Thea steps out into the hall, Pepper right behind her. 

“Wilson is a lucky, lucky man, Thea,” The Sokovian murmurs as she steps closer, securing one of the flowers twisted into Thea’s hair like a crown. Morgan, beside her, bounces eagerly on her heels, nearly spilling her basket of petals. Pepper quickly snags the basket from the young girl as Thea scoops Morgan into her arms.

“Mama did so good, Auntie Dot!” Morgan exclaims, leaning back precariously in Thea’s arms to tug at a kinky curl. “Just like a princess.” 

Thea plants a kiss on Morgan’s forehead in thanks. As Morgan squeals, swiping at the glittery imprint left on her face, boots pound up the stairs. Bucky peeks around the corner, hair freshly cropped. He runs a hand over it and lets out a low whistle as he gives Thea a once over.

“Damn, Doc. Not too shabby out of them scrubs,” He drawls. Thea turns Morgan’s face away with one hand and flips him off with the other. Bucky only rolls his eyes, making a show of shifting uncomfortably in his suit jacket. “Ladies, you might want to head out. ‘Cept you Miss Morgan.”

“I go first!” Morgan cheers. She squirms, and is back to bouncing as soon as Thea sets her down. Pepper hands Bucky the basket as she and Wanda slip past him. Bucky crouches, handing the basket to Morgan with as much seriousness as he can muster.

“That’s right, bubba, but you gotta stay still so you don’t spill it, okay?” Bucky instructs as he hands the basket to her. Morgan salutes him, and Thea bites her lip as Bucky salutes right back. “Awesome. How about you go wait with Mr. Steve at the end of the aisle, okay?”

Morgan nods eagerly, scampering off towards the stairs. She holds her basket as steady as possible all the way down. Bucky gets up like he hasn’t just interacted with a child in the sweetest way possible, brushing off the knees of his dress pants. He catches the look Thea’s giving him, though, and makes his face as threatening as possible even as his cheeks flush. “Not a word, Doc.” 

“Of course not,” Thea murmurs. Bucky leans around her, grabbing her bouquet off a small table beneath a painted portrait of the Stark’s that makes him quickly avert his gaze. She thanks him softly, smoothing her dress one last time before taking it from him. Thea makes to go around him, but he stops her with a light grip on her shoulders.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He inquires, and Thea knows that he’s only half joking. “I can fly a helicopter. I’m sure Stark’s got one stashed here somewhere. You just say the word...”

Thea laughs, though not unkindly. “That’s sweet, James, but I’m pretty positive this is what I want.”

She stands on her toes to press a kiss to the soldier’s cheek, though she knows it doesn’t nearly express how grateful she is in the way she needs it to. Finally, they join the others outside. Morgan is chatting animatedly with Wanda about their matching dresses; Steve, barely recognizable even after a year, smiles at them as they step off the porch . Pepper’s strawberry blonde head can be picked out of the thin crowd, right up front.

“You look lovely, Thea,” Steve whispers as she steps up beside him. Bucky snorts.

“You would think so, practically eye-level with-” Thea punches him in the arm before he can finish the thought. He snickers as he walks off, linking arms with Wanda. The wedding march starts; both Wanda and Bucky urge Morgan forward. She skips down the aisle, joyfully scattering rose petals, and just past her is the sight that truly cements the moment for Thea. Sam, all decked out in a three-piece suit, a pale orange rose pinned to his label matching the blooms in Thea’s hair. The hand on Steve’s wheel-chair tightens.

“It’s surreal, right?” The man in question breathes, just for Thea’s ears as Bucky and Wanda make their way towards the makeshift alter in Pepper’s backyard. Thea can only nod, because suddenly Steve is wheeling himself forward, and she’s almost in a trance alongside him. Bucky gives her a thumbs up from Sam’s right; Wanda offers a reassuring smile. Steve grips her hand tightly just before she steps away. Sam turns to face her, watery eyes never straying. She bites back the overwhelmed, joyful sob that rises in her throat when he links their fingers between them. 

“Alright, everybody, thanks for being here today. This isn’t a real bible, its just a fancy notebook with all the officiate-y lines in it,” Happy laughs nervously along with the small audience of friends and family they’ve amassed. “No, seriously, I got certified online last week because Pepper...nevermind. Sam, repeat after me... ” 

Thea finally does let it all go when she slides a thick silver band onto Sam’s finger with shaking hands, crying openly as he returns the gesture with a thinner, sapphire-studded ring. When he kisses her, he cradles her face in his hands. It quickly turns into his hands slipping down to her hips. Thea laughs into the kiss as he grips her ass tightly in one hand, her waist in the other, dipping her low over his knee. The crowd whoops and hollers; Sam rights Thea back on her feet, both of them breathless and smiling like idiots. The moment is shattered as there’s a loud cough, and Bucky slings off his bow-tie.

“Can we get to the food already?”

--------

“Can I have everybody’s attention please?” Sam’s standing from his chair, clinking a champagne flute with his knife. Per his request, everyone in Pepper’s dining room-turned-banquet hall turns to face him and conversations cease. “Thanks. I don’t know if the husband usually gives any type of speech but, here goes nothing.

“When I first met my wife,” He pauses to glance at Thea, grin enormous. “When I first met my wife, I didn’t think she’d be my wife. I mean, obviously, I thought she was gorgeous, but I hadn’t seriously thought about dating anyone in...I don’t even know when. Superhero thing kinda takes over your life, you know? Being a vet counselor wasn’t much better. But Thea...Thea was different. She was smart, funny...she could tolerate Tony effin’ Stark. She’s also one of the strongest people I know. I started ‘wooing’ her partially as a joke, cuz, hey, what shot did I have? C’mon. Wiseass vet in his thirties, saves the world in a bird costume. And this woman...this woman not only was a surgeon, she had a damn PhD! And then we find out she can heal people with a freakin’ touch...no way. No shot in hell. But she took it all in stride, and saw something in me - I still don’t know what - and she chose me. She chose me, and I promised already, but baby,”

Sam turns to Thea instead of the guests now, reaching out a hand that she gladly accepts. With her free hand, she swipes at stray tears leaking from her eyes. “Dorothea Triplett-Wilson, I promise I’m gonna choose you every goddamn day of my life. If I’m still saving the world in ten years, it’s only to keep you in it, and make it a better place for our kid.”

“Your WHAT?” This comes from Wanda. Beside her, Bucky has promptly choked on his champagne. Morgan is parting his back with as much force as she can muster. When she finally gathers the courage to peek through her fingers, Thea meets her husband’s embarrassed face. Despite the chaos around them, he gives her his most charming smile.

“Oops?”

[iwanthermidnightz]

“Not a shot. Not a single chance. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”

Taylor Swift — who, at 30, has reached a Zen state of cheerful realism — laughs as she leans into a pillow she’s placed over her crossed legs inside her suite at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, leaning further still into her infinitesimal odds of winning a Golden Globe, which will zero out when she heads down to the televised ball in a few hours.

Never mind whether or not the tune she co-wrote, “Beautiful Ghosts,” might actually have been worthy of a trophy for best original song (or shortlisted for an Oscar, which it was not). Since the Globe nominations were revealed, voters could hardly have been immune to how quickly the film it’s a part of, “Cats,” in which she also co-stars, became a whipping boy for jokes about costly Hollywood miscalculations and creative disasters. Not that you’ll hear Swift utter a discouraging word about it all. “I’m happy to be here, happy to be nominated, and I had a really great time working on that weird-ass movie,” she declares. “I’m not gonna retroactively decide that it wasn’t the best experience. I never would have met Andrew Lloyd Webber or gotten to see how he works, and now he’s my buddy. I got to work with the sickest dancers and performers. No complaints.”

If this leads you to believe that the pop superstar is in the business of sugarcoating things, consider her other new movie — a vastly more significant documentary that presents Swift not just sans digital fur but without a whole lot of the varnish of the celebrity-industrial complex. The Netflix-produced “Taylor Swift: Miss Americana” has a prestige slot as the Jan. 23 opening night gala premiere of the Sundance Film Festival before it reaches the world as a day-and-date theatrical release and potential streaming monster on Jan. 31.

The doc spends much of its opening act juxtaposing the joys of creation with the aggravations of global stardom — the grist of many a pop doc, if rendered in especially intimate detail — before taking a more provocative turn in its last reel to focus more tightly on how and why Swift became a political animal. It’s the story of an earnest young woman with a self-described “good girl” fixation working through her last remaining fears of being shamed as she comes to embrace her claws, and her causes.

Given that the film portrays how gradually, and sometimes reluctantly, Swift came to place herself into service as a social commentator, “Miss Americana” is a portrait of the birth of an activist. Director Lana Wilson sets the movie up so that it pivots on a couple of big letdowns for its subject. The first comes early in the film, and early in the morning, when Swift’s publicist calls to update her on how many of the top three Grammy categories her 2017 album “Reputation” is nominated for: zilch. She’s clearly bummed about the record’s brushoff by the awards’ nominating committee, as just about anyone who’d previously won album of the year twice would be, and determinedly tells her rep that she’s just going to make a better record.

But she suffers what feels like a more meaningful blow toward the end of the film. In the fall of 2018, Swift finally comes out of the closet politically to intervene on behalf of Democrats in a midterm election in her home state of Tennessee. As the Washington Post put it, this announcement “fell like a hammer across the Trump-worshipping subforums of the far-right Internet, where people had convinced themselves… that the world-famous pop star was a secret MAGA fan.” Donald Trump goes on camera to smirk that he now likes Swift’s music a little less. The singer is successful in enlisting tens of thousands of young people to register to vote, but her senatorial candidate of choice, Democrat Phil Bredesen, loses to Republican Marsha Blackburn, whom she’d called out as a flagrant enemy of feminism and gay rights.

“Definitely, that was a bigger disappointment for me,” Swift says, pitting the midterm snub against the Grammy snub. “I think what’s going on out in the world is bigger than who gets a prize at the party.”

It was not always thus for Swift — as the detractors who dragged her for staying quiet during the last presidential election eagerly pointed out. If you had to pick the most embarrassing or regrettable moment in “Miss Americana,” it might be the TV clip from “The Late Show With David Letterman” in which the host brings up politics and gets Swift to essentially advocate the “Shut up and sing” mantra. As the studio audience roars approval of her vow to stay apolitical, Letterman gives her what now looks like history’s most dated fist bump.

Thinking back on it, Swift is incredulous. “Every time I didn’t speak up about politics as a young person, I was applauded for it,” she says. “It was wild. I said, ‘I’m a 22-year-old girl — people don’t want to hear what I have to say about politics.’ And people would just be like, ‘Yeahhhhh!’”

At that point, Swift was already starting to record isolated pop tracks, taking baby steps that would soon turn into full strides away from her initial genre. But whether she had designs on switching lanes or not, the lesson of the Dixie Chicks’ forced exile after Natalie Maines’ comment against then-President George W. Bush had branded itself onto her brain at an earlier age, when she’d just planted her young-teen flag in Nashville and overheard a lot of the lamentations of older Music Row songwriters about how the Chicks had thrown it all away.

“I saw how one comment ended such a powerful reign, and it terrified me,” says Swift. “These days, with social media, people can be so mad about something one day and then forget what they were mad about a couple weeks later. That’s fake outrage. But what happened to the Dixie Chicks was real outrage. I registered it — that you’re always one comment away from being done being able to make music.”

Maybe the most transfixing scene in “Miss Americana” is one where Swift argues with her father and other members of her team about the statement she’s about to release coming out against Blackburn and — it’s clear from her references to White House opposition to the Equality Act — Donald Trump too. The comments were so spontaneous that Wilson wasn’t there to film the moment, but the director had asked people to turn on the camera if anything interesting transpired, and here it most certainly did.

“For 12 years, we’ve not got involved in politics or religion,” an unnamed associate says to Swift, suggesting that going down the road of standing against a president as well as Republican gubernatorial and Senate candidates could have the effect of halving her audience on tour. Her father chimes in: “I’ve read the entire [statement] and … right now, I’m terrified. I’m the guy that went out and bought armored cars.”

“I needed to get to a point where I was ready, able and willing to call out bullshit rather than just smiling my way through it.” TAYLOR SWIFT

But Swift is adamant about pressing the button to send a nearly internet-breaking Instagram post, saying that Blackburn has voted against reauthorizing the Violence Against Women Act as well as LGBTQ-friendly bills: “I can’t see another commercial [with] her disguising these policies behind the words ‘Tennessee Christian values.’ I live in Tennessee. I am Christian. That’s not what we stand for.” Pushing back tears, she laments not having come out against Trump two years earlier, “but I can’t change that. … I need to be on the right side of history. … Dad, I need you to forgive me for doing it, because I’m doing it.”

Says Swift now, “This was a situation where, from a humanity perspective, and from what my moral compass was telling me I needed to do, I knew I was right, and I really didn’t care about repercussions.” She understands why she faced such heated opposition in the room: “My dad is terrified of threats against my safety and my life, and he has to see how many stalkers we deal with on a daily basis, and know that this is his kid. It’s where he comes from.”

Swift was recently announced as the recipient of a Vanguard Award from GLAAD, and she name-checked the org in her basher-bashing single “You Need to Calm Down,” which was released as one of the teaser tracks for last fall’s more outwardly directed and socially conscious “Lover” album. Part of her politicization, she says, is feeling it would be hypocritical to hang out with her gay friends while leaving them to their own devices politically. In the film, she says, “I think it is so frilly and spineless of me to stand onstage and go ‘Happy Pride Month, you guys,’ and then not say this, when someone’s literally coming for their neck.”

A year and a half later, she elaborates: “To celebrate but not advocate felt wrong for me. Using my voice to try to advocate was the only choice to make. Because I’ve talked about equality and sung about it in songs like ‘Welcome to New York,’ but we are at a point where human rights are being violated. When you’re saying that certain people can be kicked out of a restaurant because of who they love or how they identify, and these are actual policies that certain politicians vocally stand behind, and they disguise them as family values, that is sinister. So, so dark.”

Her increasing alignment with the LGBTQ community wasn’t the only thing raising her consciousness to a breaking — i.e., speaking — point. So did the sexual assault trial in which judgment was rendered that she had been groped by a DJ in a backstage photo op (for financial restitution, Swift had asked for $1).

Her experience with the trial was crucial, she says, in finding herself “needing to speak up about beliefs I’d always had, because it felt like an opportunity to shed light on what those trials are like. I experienced it as a person with extreme privilege, so I can only imagine what it’s like when you don’t have that. And I think one theme that ended up emerging in the film is what happens when you are not just a people pleaser but someone who’s always been respectful of authority figures, doing what you were supposed to do, being polite at all costs. I still think it’s important to be polite, but not at all costs,” she says. “Not when you’re being pushed beyond your limits, and not when people are walking all over you. I needed to get to a point where I was ready, able and willing to call out bulls— rather than just smiling my way through it.”

That came into play when Kanye West stepped into her life and publicly shamed her a second time. In the video Kim Kardashian released in 2016, you can hear the people-pleasing Swift on the other end of the line sheepishly thanking him for letting her know about the “Me and Taylor might still have sex” line he plans to include about her in a song — only to regret it later when the eventual track also includes the claim “Why? I made that bitch famous.” The boast, of course, referred back to the moment when he interrupted her and stole her spotlight at the MTV VMAs six years earlier as she was in the middle of an acceptance speech. West’s is not a name that ever publicly escapes Swift’s lips, so it might be surprising to fans that these events are recapped in “Miss Americana,” although Swift says the filmic decisions were all up to the director, who explains that Swift’s reaction to the episode was important to include.

“With the 2009 VMAs, it surprised me that when she talked about how the whole crowd was booing, she thought that they were booing her, and how devastating that was,” says Wilson. “That was something I hadn’t thought about or heard before, and made it much more relatable and understandable to anyone.”

“I see the movie as looking at the flip side of being America’s sweetheart.” LANA WILSON, DIRECTOR OF “TAYLOR SWIFT: MISS AMERICANA”

Swift acknowledges how formative both incidents have been in her life, for ill and good. “As a teenager who had only been in country music, attending my very first pop awards show,” she says now, “somebody stood up and sent me the message: ‘You are not respected here. You shouldn’t be here on this stage.’ That message was received, and it burrowed into my psyche more than anyone knew. … That can push you one of two ways: I could have just curled up and decided I’m never going to one of those events ever again, or it could make me work harder than anyone expects me to, and try things no one expected, and crave that respect — and hopefully one day get it.

“But then when that person who sparked all of those feelings comes back into your life, as he did in 2015, and I felt like I finally got that respect (from West), but then soon realized that for him it was about him creating some revisionist history where he was right all along, and it was correct, right and decent for him to get up and do that to a teenage girl…” She sighs. “I understand why Lana put it in.”

Adds the woman who started her recent “Lover” album with a West-allusive romp that’s pointedly called “I Forgot That You Existed”: “I don’t think too hard about this stuff now.”

What’s not in the film is any mention of her other most famous nemeses — Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta of Big Machine Records, with whom she’s scrapped publicly for several months. “The Big Machine stuff happened pretty late in our process,” says Wilson. “We weren’t that far from picture lock. But there’s also not much to say that isn’t publicly known. I feel like Taylor’s put the story out there in her own words already, and it’s been widely covered. I was interested in telling the story that hadn’t been told before, that would be surprising and emotionally powerful to audiences whether they were music industry people or not.”

Still, the way Swift has been willing to stand up politically for others parallels the manner in which she stood up for herself in regard to Braun, et al., at the recent Billboard Women in Music Awards, where she gave an altogether blistering speech, naming names and taking no prisoners, going after the men who now control her six-album Big Machine back catalog. Certainly Swift was aware that, along with supporters, there were many friends and business associates of Braun among the VIPs in the Hollywood Palladium who would not be pleased with what this very reformed people-pleaser had to say.

One thing everyone who was in the room agrees on is that you could hear a pin drop as Swift used the speech to get even bolder about the meat of these disputes. Some would say it’s because they were riveted by her boldness in speaking truth to power, others because they just felt uncomfortable. Says one fellow honoree who works in a high position in the industry (and who’s worked with some high-profile Braun clients): “People were excited for her at the beginning of the speech. But once she started going in a negative direction at an event that is supposed to be celebrating accomplishments and rah-rah for women, I felt it fell flat with a good portion of the room, because it wasn’t the appropriate place to be saying it.”

Wasn’t it intimidating for Swift, knowing she might be polarizing an auditorium full of the most powerful people in the business? “Well, I do sleep well at night knowing that I’m right,” she responds, “and knowing that in 10 years it will have been a good thing that I spoke about artists’ rights to their art, and that we bring up conversations like: Should record deals maybe be for a shorter term, or how are we really helping artists if we’re not giving them the first right of refusal to purchase their work if they want to?”

“Obviously, anytime you’re standing up against or for anything, you’re never going to receive unanimous praise. But that’s what forces you to be brave. And that’s what’s different about the way I live my life now.” (Braun’s camp did not respond to a request for comment.)

One thing Taylor Swift can’t bend to her determined will is her family’s health. She revealed a few years ago that her mother, Andrea, a beloved figure among the thousands of fans who’ve met her at road shows, is battling breast cancer. Swift addressed the uncertainty of that struggle in an anguished song on her latest album, “Soon You’ll Get Better.” Many who view “Miss Americana” will look for signs of how her mom is doing. The subject comes up in a section of the film that includes a relatively light-hearted scene in in which it’s shown that one of Andrea Swift’s ways of saying “eff you” to cancer recently was to break the mold and bring a canine — her “cancer dog” — into a famously feline-friendly family.

The real answer may come in Swift’s touring activity for “Lover.” Whereas typically she’d spend nine months in the year after an album release on the road, she plans to limit herself to four stadium dates in America this summer and a trip around the festival circuit in Europe. This may not be 100% for personal reasons: “I wanted to be able to perform in places that I hadn’t performed in as much, and to do things I hadn’t done before, like Glastonbury,” she says. “I feel like I haven’t done festivals, really, since early in my career — they’re fun and bring people together in a really cool way. But I also wanted to be able to work as much as I can handle right now, with everything that’s going on at home. And I wanted to figure out a way that I could do both those things.”

Is being able to be there for her mother the main concern? “Yeah, that’s it. That’s the reason,” she says. “I mean, we don’t know what is going to happen. We don’t know what treatment we’re going to choose. It just was the decision to make at the time, for right now, for what’s going on.”

In her case, it’s as if her manager had taken seriously ill as well as the person she’s always been closest to, all at once. “Everyone loves their mom; everyone’s got an important mom,” she allows. “But for me, she’s really the guiding force. Almost every decision I make, I talk to her about it first. So obviously it was a really big deal to ever speak about her illness.” During filming, when Andrea’s breast cancer had returned for a second time, “she was going through chemo, and that’s a hard enough thing for a person to go through.” Then it got harder. Speaking about this latest development publicly for the first time, Swift quietly reveals: “While she was going through treatment, they found a brain tumor. And the symptoms of what a person goes through when they have a brain tumor is nothing like what we’ve ever been through with her cancer before. So it’s just been a really hard time for us as a family.”

Compared with that, nearly any other topic the movie might address would pale. But it finds weightiness in addressing other kinds of unhealthiness, like the physical expectations that are placed on women in general and celebrity women specifically, Swift being no exception. In this department, she has her own heroines. “I love people like Jameela Jamil, because he way she speaks about body image, it’s almost like she speaks in a hook. Women are held to such a ridiculous standard of beauty, and we’re seeing so much on social media that makes us feel like we are less than, or we’re not what we should be, that you kind of need a mantra to repeat in your head when you start to have unhealthy thoughts. I swear the way Jameela speaks is like lyrics — it gets stuck in my head and it calms me down.”

Swift’s collaborator in this messaging, Wilson, was on a list of potential directors Netflix gave her when she expressed interest in possibly doing a documentary to follow the concert special that premiered on the service just over a year ago. You could discern a feminist message, if you chose to, in the fact that Swift chose a director most well known for a documentary about abortion providers, “After Tiller.” Swift says she was most impressed, though, that Wilson’s docs look for nuance and subtlety in addressing subjects that do lend themselves to soapboxes, and their first conversation was about their mutual desire to avoid “propaganda” in any form.

If there’s a feminist agenda in “Miss Americana,” Wilson and Swift wanted it to emerge naturally, although the director admits it was pretty blatant from the outset, given that she set up the film (which is co-produced by Morgan Neville, the director’s “sounding board”) with an all-female crew. Or nearly all-female, says Wilson, laughing, “I will say that we did always have male production assistants, because I like trying to show people that men can fetch coffee for women.”

Adds Wilson, “When I started filming, it was before she’d come out politically. She knew that she was coming out of a very dark period, and wanted collaborate on something that captured what she was going through and that was really raw and honest and emotionally intimate.” The political awakening, the director says, “was a profound decision for her to make. In that, I saw this feminist coming of age story that I personally connected with, and that I really think women and girls around the world will see themselves in.”

“The bigger your career gets, the more you struggle with the idea that a lot of people see you the same way they see an iPhone or a Starbucks.” TAYLOR SWIFT

The film borrows its title from a song on the “Lover” album, “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince,” that’s maybe the one fully allegorical song Swift has ever released — and, in its fashion, is a great protest song. The entire lyric is a metaphor for how Swift grew up as an unblinking patriot and has had to reluctantly leave behind her naiveté in the age of Trump. Her partner on that track, as well as other message songs like “You Need to Calm Down” and “The Man,” was a co-writer and co-producer new to her stable of collaborators this time around, Joel Little.

With the song “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince,” although the lyrics are cloaked in metaphor, “We like to think it was a very clear statement,” Little says. “There are lots of little hidden messages within that song that are all pointing toward the way that she thinks and feels about politics and the United States. I love that it uses a lot of classic Taylor Swift imagery, in terms of the songwriting topics of high school and cheerleaders, as a clever nod to what she’s done in the past, but tied in with a heavy political message.”

“Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince” doesn’t actually appear in the documentary, but the director says the film’s title is understood by fans as an obvious reference to political themes in the number. “Even if you don’t know the song,” Wilson says, “I see the movie as looking at the flip side of being America’s sweetheart, so I like how the title evokes that too.”

The doc doesn’t lack for its own protest songs though. In the wake of her midterm disappointment, Swift is seen writing an anthem for millennials who might have come away disillusioned with the political process. That previously unheard song, “Only the Young,” is seen being demo-ed before it plays in full over the end credits; it’ll be released as a digital single in conjunction with the doc. Key lyric: ““You did all that you could do / The game was rigged, the ref got tricked/ The wrong ones think they’re right / We were outnumbered — this time.”

“One thing I think is amazing about her,” says Wilson, “is that she goes to the studio and to songwriting as a place to process what she’s going through. I loved how, when she got the Grammy news (about “Reputation”), this isn’t someone who’s going to feel sorry for herself or say ‘That wasn’t right.’ She’s like, ‘Okay, I’m going to work even harder.’ You see her strength of character in that moment when she gets that news. And then with the election results, I loved how she channeled so many of her thoughts and feelings into ‘Only the Young.’ It was a great way to kind of show how stuff that happens in her life goes directly into the songs; you get to witness that in both cases.

So is the film aimed at satisfying the fan base or teasing the unconvinced hordes who might dial it up as a free stream? “I think it’s a little bit of both,” Swift says. “I chose Netflix because it’s a very vast, accessible medium to people who are just like, ‘Hey, what’s this? I’m bored.’ I love that, because I do so many things that cater specifically to fans that like my music, I think it’s important to put yourself out there to people who don’t care at all about you.”

In the wake of the last round of Kanye-gate, stung by the backlash of those who took his side, Swift took a three-year break from interviews. The mantra of her 2017 album “Reputation” and subsequent tour was “No explanations.” But her Beyoncé-style press blackout was a passing phase. With “Lover” and now, especially, the documentary, she could hardly be more about the explanations. Although this interview is the only one she currently plans to do about the documentary, it’s clear that she’s come back into a season of openness, and that she considers it her natural habitat.

“I really like the whole discussion around music. And during ‘Reputation,’ it never felt like it was ever going to be about music, no matter what I said or did,” she says. “I approach albums differently, in how I want to show them to the world or what I feel comfortable with at that time in my life.” Being more transparent “feels great with this album. I really feel like I could just keep making stuff — it’s that vibe right now. I don’t think I’ve ever written this much. That’s exhibited in ‘Lover’ having the most songs that I’ve ever had on an album” (18, to be exact). “But even after I made the album, I kept writing and going in the studio. That’s a new thing I’ve experienced this time around. That openness kind of feels like you finally got the lid off a jar you’ve been working at for years.”

Cipher-dom never could have stood for long for someone who’s established herself as one of the most accomplished confessional singer-songwriters in pop history. “I don’t really operate very well as an enigma,” she says. “It’s not fulfilling to me. It works really well in a lot of pop careers, but I think that it makes me feel completely unable to do what I had gotten in this to do, which is to communicate to people. I live for the feeling of standing on a stage and saying, ‘I feel this way,’ and the crowd responding with ‘We do too!’ And me being like, ‘Really?’ And they’re like, ‘Yes!’”

Swift believes talking things up again isn’t a form of giving in to narcissism — it’s a way of warding off commodification.

“The bigger your career gets, the more you struggle with the idea that a lot of people see you the same way they see an iPhone or a Starbucks,” she muses. “They’ve been inundated with your name in the media, and you become a brand. That’s inevitable for me, but I do think that it’s really necessary to feel like I can still communicate with people. And as a songwriter, it’s really important to still feel human and process things in a human way. The through line of all that is humanity, and reaching out and talking to people and having them see things that aren’t cute.

[plsbyallmeans]

Hillary Clinton on Her Surreal Life and New Hulu Doc: “I’m Not the President, and I Got More Votes! It’s So Crazy!”

The former candidate looks back and laughs. What else is she gonna do?

Hillary Clinton sat serenely before me, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. That was my first surprise as I was ushered into a room at a Pasadena hotel to talk to the former Secretary of State and the woman who won the popular vote in the 2016 election about Hulu’s four-part documentary series, Hillary (premieres March 6). Although she’s been accused of being plodding and dour, Clinton exuded buoyant warmth. And then there was her laugh. At first I was convinced that it was deployed for effect. (Politicians get media training; is laughter training a thing?) But gales of it tumbled out so regularly and recklessly that it seemed clear Clinton was just relaxed—maybe for the first time ever?

Sure, sometimes her laughter sounded rueful, but a lot of us feel rueful these days. And while she has stopped ascending the political ladder, Clinton’s name still sparks both adoration and loathing, as well as generalized post-traumatic stress. Some people wish she would withdraw into media exile rather than shadow the current election like the ghost of campaigns past. That gave some pause to Nanette Burstein, the documentary filmmaker behind The Kid Stays in the Picture and American Teen who took on this project in 2018. Burstein knew the Clinton defeat was still a raw wound for liberal America. But it was a cross she was willing to bear, given the complete editorial control and 35 hours of interviews with her subject she was granted, along with leeway to pose any questions she wanted.

I started to ask Clinton how it felt to participate in this legacy-defining project after so many years of having her life’s narrative framed by others, but the word “framed” triggered an explosive howl of laughter. “By all definitions of that word!” she said, eyes flashing, before collecting herself again.

“I decided to do it because I’m not running for anything and I think my life and my story has parallels with women’s lives and stories and what’s going on in politics,“ Clinton told me resolutely. (This was several weeks before the rumor circulated that Mike Bloomberg was considering asking Clinton to be his running mate.) “Thirty-five hours sitting in a chair answering questions is grueling but I felt like if I didn’t tell my side of the story, who would?” she added with a shrug. “At least there’ll be a baseline: Here’s what actually happened in my life. Here’s what I actually said about it.”

That led to some very uncomfortable conversations about the many scandals that engulfed the Clintons, including her husband’s affair with Monica Lewinsky. (“It was awful what I did,” Bill Clinton tells Burstein, barely able to look at the camera. “I feel terrible about the fact that Monica Lewinsky’s life was defined by it.”) “I had to ask the ex-president of the United States about the most personal thing in his life and why he would make such a decision,” Burstein recalled. “It was very intimidating! But it was about: How did this affect Hillary and her marriage and the repercussions of that, which followed her 20 years later, into this last election.”

The series flickers back and forth between Hillary Clinton’s youth and the present, weaving together a complicated and flattering (if not quite hagiographic) portrait of a woman who’s provoked admiration and abhorrence for much of her life. Sometimes she seems like a real-life Zelig, popping up near the center of American culture for the last half century. But Zelig was a bystander, whereas Hillary got right in the thick of the action, sometimes changing the course of events and others times being swept along by them.

Clinton came of age at the exact moment that the women’s liberation movement was rising, and her 1969 Wellesley commencement speech landed her a spot in Life magazine. As a young lawyer, she wrote briefs as part of the staff for Nixon’s impeachment hearings (decades later, in a savage irony, she saw the process from another angle when her own husband was impeached). After following Bill to Arkansas, she confronted good old boy sexism, encountering judges who thought women shouldn’t be lawyers and constituents who felt the first lady of Arkansas should take her husband’s name. When Bill cheated on her in the White House, some women were furious with Hillary for standing by him. Conversely, when Bill entrusted her with the daunting task of devising a universal health care plan 16 years before Obamacare, right-wing rage, and revulsion boiled over. Footage in the Hulu series features protesters brandishing posters with slogans like “Hillary makes me sick” and “Heil Hillary.” At a Kentucky rally, they even burned her in effigy.

“I was threatened when I went around the country talking about it,” Clinton told me of that heated Hillarycare moment, shuddering at the mention of the burning effigy. “The Secret Service made me wear a bulletproof coat at one event because they had taken guns and knives off of people trying to get into the outdoor event. I thought, Shit, I’m trying to get people health care! It’s not like I’m stealing your firstborn here! What is the matter with you?” she shrieked, howling with laughter. “It was so weird—like, what’s happening here? Were they paid? A lot of them were riled up by talk radio…. But yeah, I had a lot of very unusual experiences.”

In the Hulu series, former adviser Cheryl Mills recalls “Hillary hater sessions” during Clinton’s 2008 campaign for the Democratic nomination: Women complaining that the candidate was too power-hungry or that she’d been weak for staying with Bill. “It was like watching The Exorcist: The bile would just keep coming up,” Mills said. Clinton herself told me that before she ran for president, a psychological researcher warned her she’d have problems with white women “because they don’t want any conflict with their husbands, their fathers, their sons, their brothers, their boss. And white men are not going to vote for you—they didn’t vote for your husband, they didn’t vote for Obama, et cetera. So there was a lot of pressure on these women.”

Whatever your view of Clinton’s politics, Hillary reminds us that she was voted the most admired woman in America in the Gallup Poll for 16 years in a row. (Michelle Obama knocked her off the top slot.) Clinton fervently believes she had the white woman vote nailed down in 2016 “until Jim Comey dropped that letter on me,” she said. “I was going to win, I am absolutely convinced of that…. What happened is that white women left me, because their husbands or their bosses or whatever said, See? See? She is going to jail! It was a very effective assault on me.” The series points out that not only was Clinton’s career shaped by her own husband’s infidelity, but it was derailed once again by the sexual misbehavior of Anthony Weiner, husband of her top aide, Huma Abedin. The FBI probe into his sexting a teenage girl ultimately led to Comey’s announcement that they were reopening the investigation into Clinton’s use of a private email server. This reignited the frenzied right-wing smear campaign and, she believes, turned off enough vacillating voters to throw the election to Trump.

Burstein didn’t want to lean too heavily on the gender angle because there are elements at play in Clinton’s turbulent trajectory that “have nothing to do with that,” she said. “They have to do with politics. With her own personality. But there are also things that are very specific to being a female when you’re trying to do something no one else has done…. You really see that play out in her story over and over again.” The documentary shows how the battery of conflicting public expectations and right-wing vilification over several decades caused Clinton to build up defenses, which made her seem ever-more guarded and humorless. That armoring process started as early as law school, where she learned to put her head down and work hard “despite whatever obstacles were put up. And when you fast-forward into an age where everybody wants to see what your emotions are and how you respond and all that... It’s really a different environment in which we find ourselves now.”

Clinton first sat down with Burstein for interviews just a few days after the 2018 midterm results came through with their record number of women elected to Congress. The former first lady and Secretary of State regards the anger-fueled impetus that drove so many women to run for political office as the silver lining to her 2016 defeat. “She doesn’t feel that it’s a tragedy, so why should I depict it that way?” said Burstein. “She’s not bemoaning her existence every day. She’s like: Okay, what’s next?”

Sitting in front of me in a nubby tweed blazer, Clinton said she tries to be realistic about the progress women have made during her lifetime. “A lot of legal barriers have disappeared, and that’s a big step. So now we deal with all of these pent-up stereotypes and judgments about what women should and shouldn’t do or should and shouldn’t be. And we have all these forces—political and ideological and religious and financial—arrayed against further progress. And we have a president who is a willing tool. He doesn’t believe any of this stuff. He has absolutely no core beliefs whatsoever.”

Clinton won’t endorse anyone in the primary, she told me: “I just want whoever can beat him to get the nomination. Beat him in the Electoral College. That’s all I care about. I’m not going through this again!” she said, dissolving into laughter once more.

I asked Clinton if she ever thought about what she’d be doing in a parallel world where she hadn’t moved to Arkansas and married Bill. She evaded the question, telling me she moved there because she wanted to decide whether to marry and just fell in love with her life there. But then I mentioned to her William Gibson’s new novel, Agency, which takes place in a world where Hillary is president.

“Oh, I’d love to read it!” she gasped, asking for more details. In our own reality, “I’m not the president and I got more votes. It’s so crazy! So I’m interested in somebody writing something about a different ending.” She smiled and wailed, “I want to live in that world!”

(Link)

[erintoknow]

a little victimless crime

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Nothing like combining business and pleasure. [Do It All The Time] Originally: [bigger than the sound]

[Read on AO3]

It is as if you’re fighting with one arm behind your back.

When you originally conceived of this plan, you figured you’d use the villain suit sparingly. When infiltration as either Jane or some other possessed stooge wouldn’t cut it. Maneuver people into positions where you could plant suggestions, instill compulsions, weave a web of threads over the city with yourself at the center.

Argent’s possession has entered into your regular stable of nightmares. If that wasn’t enough, she’s hounding you at every turn, ensuring you can’t forget. Even pushing the mental commands, is starting to fray at you. Are you really any better than The Directive if you don’t let people think for themselves?

As long as they go down, does it matter?

“Ugh.”

Dr. Mortum frowns from across the table. “Is everything okay, mon amie?”

“Oh, sorry.” Jane grimaces as she looks up from the day planner in front of her. “I’m just trying to figure out how to – to fit all this shit into one week.”

“Mm.” She picks up her wine glass, eyes scanning the night’s crowd at Joes. “Your boss is running you ragged these days.”

“Tell me about it. Oh, that reminds me, I need to put in another order for more of that black 2.0 paint.” Jane groans, one hand holding her forehead as she scans the week for an open time slot. “Can’t believe how high-maintenance that damn suit is.”

“A problem with my work?”

“No, no, it’s the damn paint. The slightest scratch ruins the effect. And of course, I have to route the money to pay for it, through like, three shell companies.” She chews at the end of her pen, circles an open slot and jots the reminder in. “There, hope that’s enough time.”

How many lives are you living at this point? Jane with Mortum, Jane dating Ortega, Jane as criminal fixer, Ghost, Ariadne the retired vigilante, and whatever the hell is going on between Ariadne and Ortega… to say nothing of keeping both bodies fed and healthy, or skimming enough cash to pay for everything.

“Do not forget to put aside time to sleep, mon amie.”

Jane puts her planner to one side and looks up at Mortum with a hopeless smile. “Personally, I think that’s a feature, not a bug.”

That does nothing to ease the look of concern on the doctor’s face. “Trouble sleeping?”

“It’s nothing. It’s fine.” Jane sighs, waving the concern away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Mon amie–”

“I said don’t worry.” It’s touching, almost, how concerned Dr. Mortum has started to get over Jane’s wellbeing. Haven’t figured out what exactly her angle there is. “Look…” Jane trails off as you try to find the right words, a way to thread the needle. “I… appreciate your concern but I’m fine. Seriously.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Say so. Look, I’m not even working the frontlines anymore. No more being blown up, you know? I promised.”

Mortum does not look convinced. “Spying on the ex-marshal does not count as ‘front lines’ to you, mon amie?”

Jane scoffs, “What’s she gonna do, give me the tingler?” Actually...

No! Stay focused!

Mortum gives her a tired expression. “Charge is a craftier woman than you’re giving her credit, mon amie.”

Loud, brash Ortega? The woman whose smile makes Jane feel like she’s lighter than air? She shakes her head. “I don’t see it.”

“Well, that’s rather the idea now, is it not?” Mortum’s smile is grim and she holds out her hands, palms up. “We all play up particular roles so that others might overlook the parts we wish them too.”

That gets a raised eyebrow, “And are you hiding something from me, doc?”

“But of course, mon amie. As I assume you are from me. This is how people are. Can anyone ever truly know another?”

“I thought your thing was science, not philosophy.”

“In my prefered field? The distinction between the two can get terribly blurry.”

It’s hard to argue with her. And that alone is enough to make you nervous. Is Ortega up to something? How much does she know about Ghost and how much does she just suspect? You thought she was just trying to reconnect with Ariadne out of sentimentality, but what if she’s trying to keep tabs? The thought is enough to make Jane frown.

You have to face facts and admit that cutting ties with Ortega completely is the safest move. Jane’s the one with the relationship, the one making a connection. Ariadne’s a ghost from the past, a hanger-on. She’s got no business making eyes at Ortega.

Being around her… being forced to confront face-to-face with the impossibility of what you can never have… it’s painful. Ortega would hate her, if she knew the truth about Ariadne; what she was, what she’d done.

You can’t go back. It’s unthinkable. So, if you can’t work yourself up to dying then there’s no choice. You’re stuck on this path. You can’t unring the bell.

“–mon amie?”

Jane blinks, jerking her head up from her planner. “S–sorry, what?”

Dr. Mortum watches her from across the table, concern knitting her brow. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, ah.” Jane winces, an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I got lost in my head there.”

“It is the lack of sleep mon amie.” She smiles.

“Maybe.” Jane mirrors the smile back. “Still – there’s no rest in sight for this bad girl.” With a sigh, she snaps her planning shut and tucks it away in her purse. “I’ve got another, very exciting meeting tonight.”

“Be careful, mon amie.”

Jane flashes a smile and downs the rest of her drink before leaving a twenty on the table. “You know me, I always am.”

–––

“Thanks for coming with me,” Ortega whispers from the corner of her mouth.

“Of course, thanks for inviting me.” A smile flits across Jane’s face as she studies the mess of an abstract portrait hanging on the wall in front of them. “Hopefully no super villains crash this party.”

Ortega laughs, uneasy, as she rubs the back of her neck. “Anyone that does is going to regret it.”

Jane arches an eyebrow as you try to keep her from smiling. In the aftermath of the Gala fiasco, security has tripled in order to keep the city’s elite feeling safe. The Mayor’s Guardian force was milling around here somewhere, ready to jump into duty in a split second. For the Rangers, beside Ortega, Jane has seen Herald milling around somewhere and it wouldn’t surprise you if either Argent, or Steel, or both had been bullied into attending.

The Mayor needs to prove to her benefactors she was worth keeping in office. The Rangers needed to prove they were worth keeping in Los Diablos.

Lucky for you then, Ortega still owed Jane a second date.

No explosives this time. No dramatic fights, or burning buildings. No terrible mistakes with people screaming and blood everywhere and emergency rooms filling up. Going to do this right. Going to do this quiet. The bastards won’t realize the damage until it’s too late.

“Charge! How are you holding up?”

Jane and Ortega turn together to find Herald walking towards them. It’s a little strange seeming him in a tuxedo again. All crisp angles and sharp features. He raises an arm to wave and you think Jane spies a glimpse of blue sleeve from a Ranger skinsuit underneath. Well, that confirms what you suspected from the Gala. Wonderbread really is ready to throw-down at a moment’s notice.

Is Ortega? She’s in a suit this time instead of a dress. Easier to fight in?

Ortega waves back at Herald with a smile. “Haven’t throttled anyone yet, how about you?”

Herald takes Ortega’s hand and pulls her into a quick hug. “Oh, this is old hat to me. I just focus on the art, and see how many fancy hors d’oeuvres I can sneak before anyone notices.” Ortega laughs and Jane politely covers her mouth to hide the smile. He shifts his gaze down to Jane and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Sides–?” He flinches and shakes his head. “Wait, no?”

Jane keeps her face blank. Sidestep? Sidestep who? Never heard of the bitch.

There is a tense silence and then Ortega breaks it with a forced laugh. “Sorry, this is my friend Jane I was telling you about.” She gestures towards you and then from you to Herald. “And Jane, this is Herald, but you probably already knew that.” More forced laughter.

Friend?

“Sorry,” Herald rubs at his knee, “you just reminded me of someone.” He shoots Ortega a curious look.

Was it too late now to go back and dye Jane’s hair? You idiot. You stupid vain idiot. All the more reason to keep the two lives separated. Why did you have to go and get Jane involved with Ortega?

Moron. Fool. Buffoon.

Jane keeps her face a careful blank. “It’s… nice to meet you too, Mr. …?”

Herald smiles, awkward. “Just Herald is fine. Nice to meet you, Jane.” He doesn’t offer a hand to shake.

When Ortega and Herald descend into small talk Jane breathes a sigh of relief and politely detaches herself from the conversation. A few tense moments, but it had at least bought you some needed freedom from Ortega.

Time to get to work then.

“Excuse me, folks, I’m just gonna duck into the restroom real quick.”

Ortega nods, “You know where it is?”

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll see you at the shrimp bar, sweetie.” Jane winks at Ortega, a smirk spreading across her face at the slight color on her hero’s face. Still got her.

Your sense of direction as Jane isn’t as strong as Ariadne’s but enough time spent studying floor plans makes up for it. Weave through the crowd, past the buffet table. The further from the food and the booze Jane gets the less people in ritzy outfights milling around being offensively rich.

There, next to the restrooms, a side entrance for the gallery. A very bored looking cop stands next to the door, watching the guests.

Mustering up all the elitist disdain she can muster, Jane approaches the door and gives the cop a dismissive glance, adding some gravel to her voice. “I’m taking a smoke break.” The man frowns but otherwise doesn’t stop Jane as she steps through the door, pretending to fish through her purse. Perfect.

Outside, the street gives a clear view to the Hero Museum just down the block. Once again closed for renovation and repair. The dumb bastards. Maybe you’ll trash the next grand opening too. Keep it up until they get the idea.

It doesn’t take long to spot her. The woman pacing back and forth down the sidewalk, staring anxiously at her phone, purse hanging loose in the crook of her arm. Jane whispers to get her attention and when that doesn’t work progressively raises her voice. “Hey! Ochoa!”

She looks up, sags in relief and hurries over to Jane, her movements stiff and awkward in the tight black and gold floral dress. “Finally! I was about to call the whole thing off.”

“Do you want your dirt or not?” Jane hisses.

“Please, Jane.” Mia Ochoa’s frowns, “I’m an investigative journalist, not a tabloid columnist.”

“Sure, whatever.” Jane glances up and down the street. She keeps a hand in her purse, fingering the gadget from Dr. Mortum that should be disrupting the video cameras. How long did the charge last for again? Five minutes? “Sit tight, I need to get the pig out of the way first.”

“You’re not going to–?”

Jane snorts, “I’m not going to hurt anybody. I’m not stupid.” She tilts her head, thinking. “Well. I’m probably not going to hurt anybody.” She shakes her head and holds up a hand. “Whatever, wait here. This’ll only take a second.”

“Ugh,” Jane contorts her face into a visage of barely contained fury as she steps back inside. “I can’t believe some people.”

The cop sighs, “There a problem, Ma’am?”

A short bark of a laugh. “Problem?” Jane glowers down the hallway. “Yeah, there’s a fucking problem.”

Eyes flicker to Jane’s nametag. “There’s no need for that kind of language, Miss Smith.”

Jane snarls, “Tell that to the asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

That gets the cop’s attention. “Again, is there something I can help you with, Ma’am.”

Jane holds her breath. You’re about to do something really shitty. Oh well. Sorry Kieth, it’s for the greater good. “Yeah, alright.” Jane sighs, avoiding the cop’s gaze. “someone ought to teach that damn waiter at the cocktail bar some manners. I’m not the only woman either he’s harassed tonight. The ass.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “I’ll see someone talks to him.” He puts a hand up to the walkie-talkie strapped to his breast pocket. Presses the button. Jane holds her breath. “Hey, Sam? I got a woman here reporting a problem with one of the help.”

The cop frowns as no one answers.

“Sam? You there?” No response. “Kim? José?”

Jane crosses her arms, and taps her foot. “I thought you said you’d take care of it.”

He shakes his head, “Something’s wrong with my damn walkie.” He taps it one more time and shakes his head. “Goddamn this garbage keeps busting. Sorry miss, I’ll have to find my superior.” He shoots Jane a glance, eyeing her up and down. “In the meantime, use some common sense.”

Jane huffs, as the cop walks off, grumbling about equipment.

Honestly, you half-expected that not to work. Thank you, Dr. Mortum.

A quick glance around to check for any other eyes and you step back to hold the door open. “Alright Ochoa, you’re in.”

“Finally.” The reporter quickly steps inside and you let the door close. “I can’t believe I’m really doing this.”

Jane frowns as she digs through her purse again. “Yeah, well, if you want the real meat you gotta go where they don’t want you to be.”

“Oh believe me, I know.”

“Ah, here we go.” Jane pulls out a small laminated pin, holds it up for Ochoa’s inspection. “Your own name pin. It’s like you were supposed to be here all along.”

“Oh!” The woman takes it from Jane’s hand with a look of surprise. “You thought of everything.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

As the two of you walk down the hallway to rejoin the main event Ochoa pins the name tag to her chest and smoothes out her dress. “Alright, well, thanks for getting me in. I can take it from here.”

“Just don’t forget our deal. You owe now.”

The smile fades from Ochoa’s face. “Of course.”

Jane scans the room as the two of you step in. There’s Ortega and Herald still talking in the far corner, and then there’s… “Actually,” a tight smile crosses Jane’s face, “how do you feel about an introduction to the Mayor’s right-hand man?”

Ochoa’s eyes light up, “I’d love it.” She frowns, “But do you think he’ll talk?”

“I think you might be surprised.” Jane grabs Ochoa’s hand, pulling her through the crowd. There we go. Jane raises her free hand in greeting, “Professor Vanderpoel, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

The balding clerk turns with startled surprise towards Jane, as the other two men in his group stop talking, watching the two approaching women with mild interest. “I’m sorry… do I know you?”

Jane laughs, a bright smile on her face. “Don’t tell me you forgot me already? Tell me you at least remember the linden trees?”

A cascade of color rockets up the man’s face. “That– that was a very different time in my life.”

One of Vanderpoel’s companions laughs and elbows him in the side. “You never told me you used to teach!”

Vanderpoel flinches, “I haven’t for eight years.”

Jane nods, knowingly. “Such a shame what happened! Still, I’m so happy to see you’ve bounced back without any problems.”

“Well…”

“Anyway,” Jane cuts him off without mercy, “I was just catching up with my good friend Mia,” Jane tugs Mia forward by the arm. “When I saw you over here.”

One of Vanderpoel’s friends tilts his head, “Mia…? You look familiar.”

Ochoa’s smile is strained. “I’m a reporter for LD Confidential.”

Jane laughs, “Don’t worry, she’s not working today.”

Vanderpoel’s two friends laugh with Jane, but Vanderpoel himself has a thoughtful look in his eye. Encouraging. Ghost’s bridge-side chat with the man has been sinking in after all.

The man on the right claps Vanderpoel on the back. “You know some lovely ladies man, I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us!” A strange look crosses across Vanderpoel’s face and the three men make room for the two of you to join their conversation. You can’t stop the smirk on Jane’s face. You’ve got them.

S u c k e r s.

Not every bomb needs to be literal.

A few more minutes of smalltalk to help work Ochoa into the conversation and then Jane politely excuses herself from the group. She’s got a date to rejoin after all.

Ortega perks up as Jane crosses the room, a glass of wine in each hand. She doesn’t wait to ask before offering Jane one of them. “I was beginning to think you might have ditched me.”

Jane smiles, laughs, as she takes the wine glass. “Sorry, sorry, I saw some people I knew and got distracted.”

“Oh?” Ortega’s focus zeros in on Jane, “Anyone I’d know?”

“Oh, I doubt it.” Jane shakes her head and waves a hand to dismiss the idea. “Just some old college friends. “ She glances about the room, “Herald still around?”

Ortega laughs, “He’s around somewhere. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering.” Jane sips from her glass. “You have a lot of attractive friends.”

Wait, fuck what? Why did you say that? What the fuck? What happened to that masterclass of infiltration?

Ortega blinks, surprised, then laughs. “I hadn’t pegged you for being into men too.”

Jane glowers up at her. “So what?”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m bi too.” Ortega smiles, pats Jane on the shoulder, then lets her hand run down the arm.

“You are?” Jane winces, “Ugh, what am I saying, of course you are. Sorry, I’ve apparently lost my mind tonight.”

“I suppose my love life is pretty well documented at this point.” There’s a bitter tinge to Ortega’s voice that catches you by surprise.

“I’m surprised we haven’t shown up in a tabloid yet,” Jane admits.

“Ghost’s debut kind of took over the headlines for awhile, didn’t it?.” Ortega laughs, “It’s just as well. I don’t get the kind of media attention that I used to.”

“Miss it any?”

“God no.” Ortega smiles widely, and then the smile quickly fades. “Sometimes I wonder how many relationships it cost me.”

Huh. “Was it that bad?”

“You got out for dinner with one guy and suddenly they’re your boyfriend. After awhile I just kind of embraced it. Especially once I became Marshal. At least I could take some ownership over it that way, you know?”

“I’m… sorry, that sounds pretty rough actually.”

“It’s in the past now.”

Silence threatens to stretch out between you two. Jane coughs, “So… when did you figure out you liked women, then?”

Ortega rubs her neck, “When I figured it out…? Hrm.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I’m just… it feels like so long ago now.” Ortega sighs. “I guess… there was this vigilante…”

Jane holds her breath. No– It couldn’t be, could it? “A vigilante?”

“Well, I had just joined the Rangers properly.” Oh. “This vigilante, Axel. She was this speed boost that worked in the south end of the city. She was Latina too, and we just… kind of hit it off.”

“Wow,” Jane says. You try to wrack you memory for anything about an ‘Axel.’ It’s not ringing a bell. “What ended up happening?”

“It wasn’t easy trying to keep it out of the press. Eventually it got to be too much and we just kind of… mutually broke it off. She retired not long after. Or moved, maybe?” Ortega crosses her arms, thinking. “That’s it, she moved down further south. I haven’t heard from her since.”

“She didn’t want to go public?”

Ortega sighs. “This was like the early aughts. Things were starting to change but…”

Jane frowns. “There would have been consequences.”

“Yeah. I think…” Ortega stares at the floor between the two of you, lost in memory or maybe regret. “I think maybe I had been too pushy. I was under a lot of pressure at the time. The new face of the Rangers. They told me I needed a relationship to look ‘normal.’”

“Human.” Jane prompts, unbidden.

“Yeah,” Ortega laughs, bitter. “That too, I guess. Not that it was an excuse, mind.”

“Would a relationship with a woman really work for that though?”

“Well, we’ll never know now. I wanted to try but…”

“But?”

“I don’t think I gave her the space to really process what coming out would mean. We just fought about it. A lot.”

Jane rocks back and forth on her heels, avoids looking at Ortega. “That’s rough, I’m sorry.” Ortega never shared this with you – with Ariadne. You’re not sure what that means. How to feel about it.

“Well, hey,” Ortega looks up, catches Jane’s eye. “I learned from it. Eventually.” She smiles, and Jane smiles back. “Well, I told you my story, what’s yours?”

Jane blinks, bites her lip. “Oh! Uh. Hrm.”

“Sore subject for you too?”

“Uh… not exactly…” Jane laughs while panic runs through your head. “Like… when I figured out I liked guys…?”

“I was more thinking women? Society kind of expects the male interest.”

Jane forces a laugh. “I guess that’s true. I’ve never actually dated a guy though.”

Ortega shrugs, “Doesn’t make you any less bi. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Is it still bi if you don’t want to date guys though?” Jane frowns, looking away. Floor, artwork, the crowd. Anywhere else.

“Oh. Hrm,” Ortega pauses, “I guess that’s up to you? I’m not the sexuality police.” She laughs and Jane finds herself joining in.

“Oh good. I’m safe then. I mean… guys can be… attractive, I guess.” Jane shrugs helplessly, “But… I don’t know. I guess I’m kind of afraid of them?”

“Jane…?” There’s a note of concern in Ortega’s voice, and Jane cringes. This conversation is getting too real.

“This isn’t really the place to talk about it.”

“Okay. I get that. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Jane sighs. That is absolutely not a subject you want Ortega to chew on. You need something to distract her. “ As far as women go, well..” You need to think of a story quickly. “There was this… girl I worked with in – in… college.”

“You know,” There’s an impish grin on Ortega’s face, “they say you should never date a coworker.”

Jane scowls, “Oh believe me, no dating was involved.”

Ortega puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh no! You just pined from afar?”

“Uh… more like, right next to her. For five years.”

“Ouch. She never caught on?”

The pained expression on Jane’s face matches the one in your heart. “I… have no idea?” Shesighs and downs the rest of her wine glass in one go. “Honestly, I didn’t really… understand what it was I was feeling until years later. And then… it was too late.” She shrugs and looks away. Can’t believe this conversation is happening. Have you lost your goddamn mind?

Ortega is shaking her head, equal parts amused and pitying. “I never would have pegged you for the shy type.”

“Hey!” Jane crosses her arms, “not shy enough to keep from kissing you.”

Ortega laughs again, “I’ve noticed.”

“I learned from my mistakes too,” Jane lies.

[letterboxd]

Human Resources.

Kitty Green talks to our London correspondent Ella Kemp about “putting the audience in the shoes of the youngest woman in a toxic work environment” in her new film, The Assistant.

The long-undervalued job of a Hollywood assistant has come into stark relief thanks to recent events, and the stories that are being told of assistants’ experiences, working conditions and pay rates are jaw-dropping. (Episode 422 of the Scriptnotes podcast is well worth a listen.)

Filmmaker Kitty Green was well ahead of the conversation; her first narrative feature, The Assistant, quietly premiered at the Telluride Film Festival last August (and the Berlinale in February). Dubbed by many as ‘the first post-#MeToo movie’, it is a remarkable portrait of a young woman navigating just another day in the office. Except this is not just another office, and so many things are wrong about this day.

Starring Julia Garner (Grandma, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Electrick Children) as Jane, the assistant to the predatory head of a New York-based film studio, the story zooms in on the details of her routine—the tedious tasks, the belittlement from her colleagues, the oppression from her mostly faceless boss—with such laser-sharp vision that by the end we feel we know Jane deep in our bones.

Green has previously directed the documentary features Ukraine is Not a Brothel (2013) and Casting JonBenét (2017), the latter a meta-documentary that also hones in on the neglect and exploitation of young women, albeit under a different light (it is now streaming on Netflix). While Green’s documentary experience bears fruit in her attention to detail, the narrative form of The Assistant allows for a focus on mundane tasks and micro-reactions that documentary might not have access to.

Various Letterboxd reviews mention the anxiety-inducing way The Assistant allows us to watch Jane “probe her place in the established, tacit system of complacency… knowing that everyone around her is motivated by self-interest to pretend it doesn’t exist” (Josh Lewis). “Green encourages her viewers to pay close attention to what’s really going on beneath the surface,” (KristineJean) in “a horror movie of soul-sickening ambience” (Scott Tobias).

Though The Assistant’s film festival run was cut short, and the closure of cinemas around the world hurts for a lot of us, there’s something about the claustrophobia of social distancing and the intimacy of the small screen that maybe suits this picture. Nevertheless, seeing the film in a cinema in ‘the before time’ highlighted for Alyssa Heflin the ocean of different opinions that can come from misunderstood subtext: “Watching this in a room where you can hear people snickering at the girl and asking what the point of all this is adds a certain extra… incendiary level to an already deeply angry viewing experience.” Indeed, discomfort and crossed wires seem to define the messages at the core of The Assistant.

Kitty Green talks to Ella Kemp about the influence of Chantal Akerman, the infinite watchability of Julia Garner, and the oddness of growing up with a Nazi-free edit of The Sound of Music.

Jane (Julia Garner) takes another call from the boss in ‘The Assistant’.

The Assistant is your first fiction feature. The subject matter feels so immediate—what made you choose to not make a documentary of this, given your track record in that realm? Kitty Green: I went to fiction film school, and I made fiction short films. I then found work in documentary, so I made two feature-length docs. With this one, I was looking at exploring the micro-aggressions, the tiny moments, gestures, looks, glances, behaviors that often go overlooked when covering the #MeToo movement. We often talk about the bad men and the misconduct, but this is more about a cultural, structural problem. So I was hoping to amplify the more quietly insidious behavior that we need to address if we really want things to improve. A fiction film allowed me to hone in on details—close up—and the way you can take an annoyance through the emotional experience, putting the audience in the shoes of the youngest woman in a toxic work environment.

How did you decide to keep the timeframe to just one day in Jane’s life rather than fleshing it out over a longer period? The lead character is in such a complicated position. It’s such a difficult set of circumstances, the machinery that this predator has created around himself. I wanted to untick that, to discuss how difficult it is to be a young woman in that environment. So the day, the routine, was really important. What she was experiencing, how she was experiencing it; every task she did I gave equal weight to. Whether she was photocopying, binding something suspicious, you experience it as you would if you were in her shoes. That was important to me.

I had my fists clenched the whole time, when she’d be eating cereal, or washing up mugs, waiting for something awful to happen. Totally. It’s exploring misconduct, but it’s also looking at a whole spectrum, from gendered work environments, toxic work environments, through all these environments that support predatory behavior. I was interested in what the entry points are, without conflating those issues and being able to explore all the cultural systemic things we need to unpick to move forward.

The film is so focused on Jane, played by Julia Garner. How did you choose her? The script is pretty bare when it describes who she is, she’s just Jane. I didn’t have anyone in mind, really. I told my casting agent that we’re watching this character do the most mundane tasks, so it was important that she was striking. I said I needed someone infinitely watchable. I had seen Julia in The Americans and I remembered being struck by her, so I immediately wanted to meet her. She really understood the script, it worked out beautifully. We got to create the character together, we had a month of rehearsals where we really went through where she was emotionally at any given point, and Julia is wonderful so it was great.

Matthew Macfadyen and Kitty Green discuss a scene in ‘The Assistant’. / Photo: Ty Johnson

And Matthew Macfadyen—his character feels so crucial and his performance so pivotal, even in just one scene. What were you looking for when casting him? I’ve been a fan of his for forever, but I hadn’t seen Succession. Apparently the character has some similarities? I’ve only watched Succession in the past week… Somebody had to send me a clip to prove he could do an American accent! Matthew really brought something to that character and took it to another level. It’s so insidious what he does. He and Julia worked so beautifully together, it just got better and better every time.

How did you feel watching Succession now and seeing Matthew as Tom Wambsgans? Tom still feels different somehow. But I’ve had a good time watching it, he’s so great. There are parallels for sure!

The language you use in the film is so careful, so much is in the subtext. How do you build tension from these empty spaces? We had a great visual team who were lighting it in an interesting way. There was a lot of oppressive fluorescent lights. The sound was also very important—we had an amazing sound designer, Leslie Schatz, who does a lot of Todd Haynes’ stuff and Gus Van Sant’s. He’d done Elephant, which I thought was phenomenally sound designed. He sent out a team to record every kind of buzz, hum, whir, and we created a lot of tension in that soundscape. It heightens these moments when you can really feel the hum of the fluorescent lights or the alarm of the copier. Things like that are authentic to the world, so it doesn’t feel like you’re manipulating an audience, but they do add a dramatic tension.

During The Assistant’s various film festival screenings so far, audience reactions have been quite varied. Some people find it uncomfortable, some have found it funny. What would you hope an audience member would take from it? Who found it funny…? That’s a strange reaction, and a little terrifying. I think it makes some men uncomfortable and maybe their reaction is to laugh as a way to hide that discomfort. I get a lot of men come up to me afterwards and say, “There are things in that film that maybe I have done.” Those conversations are really important. There’s a scene where the men lean over Jane’s chair and correct her email, little things like that which can be quite patronising even if a lot of men think are helpful. But there’s a point where they cross a line, where maybe it isn’t helpful anymore and it’s a little insulting. I’ve had a few people who are bosses with their own assistants who have watched the film and have said they’re going to treat them a little better, and that maybe they’re wrestling with their own guilt. I think those conversations are great.

Julia Garner prepares for a take on the set of ‘The Assistant’. / Photo: Ty Johnson

What is your favorite one-woman-show performance, where one female actor entirely carries the film? A big influence on The Assistant was Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles. It’s just one woman going about her housework. I remember seeing that in film school and being bowled over by it, I’d never seen anything like it.

Do you have a favorite scene that has ever taken place in an office environment? Offices… I mean, I love The Office? I watched it in preparation for this, even though there’s seemingly nothing in common except for the ways of the photocopier…

It’s important to inhale that kind of comedy while working on something more intense, right? For sure, that helps.

What is your favorite on-screen argument? I watched a lot of them to prepare for the HR scene, as it’s a confrontation between two characters. There’s a scene in Steve McQueen’s Hunger, which is a seventeen-minute dialogue. It’s an incredible scene. It’s not an argument but still some sort of confrontation. I was interested in scenes like that which are really long and stand out from the rest of the movie. James Schamus, one of my producers, made a film called Indignation, which has a confrontation between two characters, which also influenced the structure of what I was doing. I also just watched the latest episode of Better Call Saul in which there’s a sixteen-minute confrontation, which I thought was pretty remarkable.

What was the first film that made you want to be a filmmaker? To be honest I’m not sure. I got a video camera when I was eleven, and I started playing with it in our backyard, making little movies. It wasn’t that I saw a film and tried to replicate it necessarily. But I do have a strange story…

I had a copy of The Sound of Music in which my father had edited out the Nazis, because he was worried I’d be scared of them as a kid. So I have this strange 40-minute version of the film that ends at the wedding scene… And I always thought that was The Sound of Music, and then in high school I figured out there’s this whole other storyline I never knew existed. I guess that taught me the power of editing! I had to go back and rewatch what I’d seen, and it definitely made me think of the craft more as a viewer.

‘The Assistant’ is available to watch on VOD platforms (including Hulu) as of late July.

[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior 10/13/20: FREAKY, THE CLIMB, MANK, HILLBILLY ELEGY, AMMONITE, DREAMLAND, DOC-NYC and MUCH MORE!

It’s a pretty crazy week for new releases as I mentioned a few times over the past couple weeks, but it’s bound to happen as we get closer to the holiday movie season, which this year won’t include many movies in theaters, even though movie theaters are still open in many areas of the country… and closing in others. Sigh. Besides a few high-profile Netflix theatrical release, we also get movies starring Vince Vaughn, Margot Robbie, Kate Winslet, Saoirse Ronan, Mel Gibson and more offerings. In fact, I’ve somehow managed to write 12 (!!!!) reviews this week… yikes.

Before we get to the new movies, let’s look at a few series/festivals starting this week, including the always great documentary festival, DOC-NYC, which runs from November 11 through 19. A few of the docs I’ve already seen are (probably not surprisingly, if you know me) some of the music docs in the “Sonic Cinema” section, including Oliver Murray’s Ronnie’s, a film about legendary jazz musician and tenor sax player Ronnie Scott, whose London club Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club has been one of the central cores for British jazz fans for many decades.

Alex Winter’s Zappa is a much more satisfying portrait of the avant-garde rocker than the doc Frank Zappa: In His Own Words from a few years back, but I was even more surprised by how much I enjoyed Julien Temple’s Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane MacGowan, because I’ve never really been a Pogues fan, but it’s highly entertaining as we learn about the chronically-soused frontman of the popular Irish band.

I haven’t seen Robert Yapkowitz and Richard Peete’s in My Own Time: A Portrait of Karen Dalton, a portrait of the blues and folk singer, yet, nor have I watched Marcia Jarmel and Ken Schneider’s Los Hermanos/The Brothers about two brother musicians separated from childhood after leaving their native Cuba, but I’ll try to get to both of them soon enough.

Outside of the realm of music docs is Ilinca Calugareanu’s A Cops and Robbers Story, which follows Corey Pegues from being a drug dealer and gang member to a celebrated deputy inspector within the NYPD. There’s also Nancy (The Loving Story) Buirski’s A Crime on the Bayou, the third part of the filmmaker’s trilogy about brave individuals in the Civil Rights era, this one about 19-year-old New Orleans fisherman Gary Duncan who tries to break up a fight between white and black teens at an integrated school and is arrested for assaulting a minor when merely touching a white boy’s arm.

Hao Wu’s 76 Days covers the length of Wuhan, China’s lockdown due to COVID-19, a very timely doc that will be released by MTV Documentary Films via virtual cinema on December 4. It’s one of DOC-NYC’s features on its annual Short List, which includes Boys State, Collective, The Fight, On the Record, and ten others that will vie for juried categories.

IFC Films’ Dear Santa, the new film from Dana Nachman, director of the wonderful Pick of the Litter, will follow its Heartland Film Festival debut with a run at COD-NYC before its own December 4 release. The latter is about the USPS’s “Operation Santa” program that receives hundreds of thousands of letters to Santa every year and employees thousands of volunteers to help make the wishes of these kids come true.

Basically, there’s a LOT of stuff to see at DOC-NYC, and while most of the movies haven’t been released publicly outside festivals yet, a lot of these movies will be part of the doc conversations of 2020. DOC-NYC gives the chance for people across the United States to see a lot of great docs months before anyone else, so take advantage of some of their ticket packs to save some money over the normal $12 per ticket price. The $199 price for an All Access Film Pass also isn’t a bad deal if you have enough time to watch the hundreds of DOC-NYC offerings. (Sadly, I never do, yet I’m still a little bummed to miss the 10Am press screenings at IFC Center that keeps me off the streets… or in this case, sitting on my ass at home.)

Not to be outdone by the presence of DOC-NYC, Film at Lincoln Center is kicking off its OWN seventh annual “Art of the Real” doc series, which has a bit of overlap by running from November 13 to 26. I really don’t know a lot about the documentaries being shown as part of this program, presented with Mubi and The New York Times, but check this out. For just 50 bucks, you can get an all-access pass to all 17 films, which you can casually watch at home over the two weeks of the fest.

Okay, let’s get to some theatrical releases, and the one I’ve been anticipating the most (also the one getting the widest release) is Christopher Landon’s FREAKY from Blumhouse and Universal Pictures. It stars Kathryn Newton as Millie Kessler, a high school outcast who is constantly picked on, but one night, she ends up encountering the serial killer known as the “Blissfield Butcher” (Vince Vaughn), but instead of dying when she’s stabbed with a ritual blade. The next morning Millie and the Butcher wake up to discover that they’ve been transported into the body of the other. Oh, it’s Friday the 13th… oh, now I get it… Freaky Friday!

Landon is best known for writing many of the Paranormal Activity sequels and directing Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones. Msore importantly, he directed Happy Death Day and its sequel Happy Death Day 2 U, two of my favorite Blumhouse movies, because they so successfully mix horror with comedy, which is so hard to do. That’s what Freaky is all about, too, and it’s even harder this time even though Freaky has way more gruesome and gory kills than anything in Landon’s other films. Heck, many of the kills are gorier than the most recent Halloween from Blumhouse, and it’s a little shocking when you’re laughing so hard at times.

Landon does some clever things with what’s essentially a one-joke premise of a killer in a teen girl’s body and vice versa, but like the Lindsay Lohan-Jamie Lee Curtis remake from 2003, it’s all about the talent of the two main actors to pull off the rather intricate nature of playing humor without losing the seriousness of the horror element.

It may not be too surprising with Vaughn, who made a ton of dramas and thrillers before turning to comedy. (Does everyone remember that he played Norman Bates in Gus Van Sant’s remake of Psycho and also starred in thrillers The Cell and Domestic Disturbance?) Newton is a bit more of an unknown quantity, but as soon as Tillie dawns the red leather jacket, you know that she can use her newly found homicidal attitude to get some revenge on those who have been terrible to her.

In some ways, the comedy aspects of Freaky win out over the horror but no horror fan will be disappointed by the amount of gory kills and how well the laughs emerge from a decent horror flick. Freaky seems like the kind of movie that Wes Craven would have loved.

I’m delighted to say that this week’s “Featured Flick” is Michael Angelo Covino and Kyle Marvin’s indie comedy THE CLIMB (Sony Pictures Classics), a movie that I have seen no less than three times this year, first when it was playing Sundance, a few months later when it was supposed to open in March… and then again last week! And you know what? I enjoyed it just as much every single time. It’s an amazing two-hander that stars Covino and Marvin as best friends Mike and Kyle, who have a falling out over the former sleeping with the latter’s fiancé, and it just gets funnier and funnier as the friends fight and Kyle gets engaged to Marisa (Gayle Rankin from GLOW) who hates Mike. Can this friendship possibly survive?

I really had no idea what to expect the first time I saw The Climb at the Sony Screening Room, but it was obviously going to be a very different movie for Sony Pictures Classics, who had started out the year with so many great films before theaters shut down. (Unfortunately, they may have waited too long on this one as theaters seem to be shutting down again even while NYC and L.A. have yet to reopen them. Still, I think this would be just as much fun in a drive-in.)

The movie starts with a long, extended scene of the two leads riding bikes on a steep mountain in France, talking to each other as Kyle (once the athlete of the duo) has fallen out of shape. During the conversation, Mike admits to having slept with Kyle’s fiancé Ava (Judith Godréche) and things turn hostile between the two. We then get the first big jump in time as we’re now at the funeral for Ava, who actually had been married to Mike. Kyle eventually moves on and begins a relationship with his high school sweetheart Marisa, who we meet at the Thanksgiving gathering for Kyle’s extended family. In both these cases, we see how the relationship between Mike and Kyle has changed/evolved as Mike has now fallen on hard times.

It's a little hard to explain why what’s essentially a “slice of life” movie can be so funny. On one hand, The Climb might be the type of movie we might see from Mike Leigh, but Covino and Marvin find a way to make everything funny and also quite eccentric in terms of how some of the segments begin and end.  Technically, it’s also an impressive feat with the number of amazing single shot sequences and how smooth some of the transitions work. It’s actually interesting to see when and how the filmmakers decide to return to the lives of their subjects – think of it a bit like Michael Apted’s “Up” series of docs but covering a lot shorter span in time.

Most importantly, The Climb has such a unique tone and feel to other indie dramedies we’ve seen, as the duo seem to be influenced more by European cinema than American indies. Personally, I think a better title for The Climb might have been “Frenemied,” but even with the movie’s fairly innocuous title, you will not forget the experience watching this entertaining film anytime soon.

Maybe this should be called “Netflix week,” because the streamer is releasing a number of high-profile movies into theaters and on the streaming service. Definitely one of the more anticipated movies of the year is David Fincher’s MANK, which will get a theatrical release this week and then stream on Netflix starting December 4.

It stars Gary Oldman as Herman Mankiewicz, the Hollywood screenwriter who has allowed himself to succumb to alcoholism but has been hired by Orson Welles (Tom Burke) to write his next movie, Citizen Kane, working with a personal secretary Rita Alexander (played by Lily Collins). His story is told through his interactions with media mogul William Hearst (Charles Dance) and relationship with actress and Hearst ingenue and mistress, Marion Davies (Amanda Seyfried).

It I were asked to pick one director who is my absolute favorite, Fincher would probably be in my top 5 because he’s had such an illustrious and varied career of movie styles, and Mank continues that tradition as Fincher pays tribute to old Hollywood and specifically the work of Orson Welles in every frame of this biopic that’s actually more about the troubled writer of Citizen Kane who was able to absorb everything happening in his own Hollywood circles and apply them to the script.

More than anything, Mank feels like a movie for people who love old Hollywood and inside Hollywood stories, and maybe even those who may already know about the making of Welles’ highly-regarded film might find a few new things to appreciate. I particularly enjoyed Mankiewicz’s relationships with the women around him, including his wife “Poor Sarah,” played by Tuppence Middleton, Collins’ Rita, and of course, Seyfried’s absolutely radiant performance as Davies.  Maybe I would have appreciated the line-up of known names and characters like studio head Louis B Mayer and others, if more of them had any sort of effect on the story and weren’t just

The film perfectly captures the dynamic of the time and place as Mank is frequently the only honest voice in a sea of brown nosers and yes-men. Maybe I would have enjoyed Oldman’s performance more if everything that comes out of Mankiewicz’s mouth wasn’t an all-too-clever quip.

The film really hits a high point after a friend of Mank’s commits suicide and how that adds to the writer’s woes about not being able to save him. The film’s last act involves Mank dealing with the repercussions after the word gets out that Citizen Kane is indeed about Hearst.

Overall, Mank is a movie that’s hard to really dig into, and like some of Fincher’s previous work, it tends to be devoid of emotion. Even Fincher’s decision to be clever by including cigarette burns to represent Mank’s “reels” – something explained by Brad Pitt in Fight Club – just drives home the point that Mank is deliberately Fincher’s most meta movie to date.

You can also read my technical/crafts review of Mank over at Below the Line.

Ron Howard’s adaptation of JD Vance’s bestselling memoir HILLBILLY ELEGY will be released by Netflix into theaters ahead of its streaming debut on November 24. It stars Amy Adams and Glenn Close, but in honesty, it’s about JD Vance, you know, the guy who wrote the memoir.  The film follows his younger years (as played by Owen Asztalos) while dealing with a dysfunctional white trash family in Middletown, Ohio, dealing with his headstrong Mamaw (Close) and abusive mother dealing with drug addiction (Adams).  Later in life, while studying at Yale (and played by Gabriel Basso), he has to return to his Ohio roots to deal with his mother’s growing addiction that forces him to come to terms with his past.

I’m a bit of a Ron Howard stan – some might even say “an apologist” – and there’s no denying that Hillbilly Elegy puts him the closest to A Beautiful Mind territory than he’s been in quite some time. That doesn’t mean that this movie is perfect, nor that I would consider it one of his better movies, though. I went into the movie not knowing a thing about JD Vance or his memoir but after the first reviews came out, I was a little shocked how many of them immediately went political, because there’s absolutely nothing resembling politics in the film.

It is essentially an adaptation of a memoir, dealing with JD Vance’s childhood but then also the past that led his mother and grandmother down the paths that made his family so dysfunctional. I particularly enjoyed the relationship between the older Vance and his future wife Usha (as played by Freida Pinto) earlier in their relationship as they’re both going to Yale and Vance is trying to move past his family history to succeed in the realm of law.

It might be a no-brainer why Adams and Close are being given so much of the attention for their performances. They are two of the best. Close is particularly amusing as the cantankerous Mamaw, who veers between cussing and crying, but also has some great scenes both with Adams and the younger Vance. The amazing special make-up FX used to change her appearance often makes you forget you’re watching Close. I wish I could say the same for Adams, who gives such an overwrought and over-the-top performance that it’s very hard to feel much emotionally for her character as she goes down a seemingly endless vortex of drug addiction. It’s a performance that leads to some absolute craziness. (It’s also odd seeing Adams in basically the Christian Bale role in The Fighter, although Basso should get more credit about what he brings out in their scenes together.)

Hillbilly Elegy does have a number of duller moments, and I’m not quite sure anyone not already a fan of Vance’s book would really have much interest in these characters. I certainly have had issues with movies about people some may consider “Southern White Trash,” but it’s something I’ve worked on myself to overcome. It’s actually quite respectable for a movie to try to show characters outside the normal circles of those who tend to write reviews, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the movie might be able to connect with people in rural areas that rarely get to see themselves on screen.

Hillbilly Elegy has its issues, but it feels like a successful adaptation of a novel that may have been difficult to keep an audience invested in with all its flashbacks and jumps in time.

Netflix is also streaming the Italian drama THE LIFE AHEAD, directed by Edoardo Ponti, starring Oscar-winning actress Sophia Loren, who happens to also be the filmmaker’s mother. She plays Madame Rosa, a Holocaust survivor in Italy who takes a stubborn young street kid named Momo (Ibrahima Gueye), much to both their chagrin.

I’ll be shocked if Italy doesn’t submit Ponti’s film as their choice for the Oscar’s International Film category, because it has all of the elements that would appeal to Oscar voters. In that sense, I also found it to be quite traditional and formulaic.  Loren is quite amazing, as to be expected, and I was just as impressed with young Ibrahima Gueye who seems to be able to hold his own in what’s apparently his first movie. There’s others in the cast that also add to the experience including a trans hooker named Lola, but it’s really the relationship between the two main characters that keeps you invested in the movie. I only wish I didn’t spend much of the movie feeling like I knew exactly where it’s going in terms of Rosa doing something to save the young boy and giving him a chance at a good life.

I hate to be cynical, but at times, this is so by the books, as if Ponti watched every Oscar movie and made one that had all the right elements to appeal to Oscar voters and wokesters alike. That aside, it does such a good job tugging at heartstrings that you might forgive how obviously formulaic it is.

Netflix is also premiering the fourth season of The Crown this week, starring Olivia Colman as Queen Elizabeth and bringing on board Gillian Anderson as Margaret Thatcher, Emma Corin, Helena Bonham Carter, Tobis Menzies, Marion Bailey and Charles Dancer. Quite a week for the streamer, indeed.

Another movie that may be in the conversation for Awards season is AMMONITE (NEON), the new film from Francis Lee (God’s Own Country), a drama set in 1840s England where Kate Winslet plays Mary Anning, a fossil hunter,  tasked to look after melancholic young bride, Charlotte Murcheson (Saoirse Ronan), sent to the sea to get better only for them to get into a far more intimate relationship.

I had been looking forward to this film, having heard almost unanimous raves from out of Toronto a few months back. Maybe my expectations were too high, because while this is a well-made film with two strong actors, it’s also rather dreary and not something I necessarily would watch for pleasure. The comparisons to last year’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire (also released by NEON) are so spot-on that it’s almost impossible to watch this movie without knowing exactly where it’s going from the very minute that the two main characters meet.

Winslet isn’t bad in another glammed-down role where she can be particularly cantankerous, but knowing that the film would eventually take a sapphic turn made it somewhat predictable. Ronan seems to be playing her first outright adult role ever, and it’s a little strange to see her all grown-up after playing a teenager in so many movies.

The movie is just so contained to the one setting right up until the last 20 minutes when it actually lives the Lyme setting and lets us see the world outside Mary’s secluded lifestyle.  As much as I wanted to love Ammonite, it just comes off as so obvious and predictable – and certainly not helped by coming out so soon after Portrait of a Lady. There’s also something about Ammonite that just feels so drab and dreary and not something I’d necessarily need to sit through a second time.

The animated film WOLFWALKERS (GKIds) is the latest from Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart, directors of the Oscar-nominated Secret of the Kells (Moore’s Song of the Sea also received an Oscar nomination a few years later.) It’s about a young Irish girl named Robyn (voiced Honor Kneafsey) who is learning to be hunter from her father (voiced by Sean Bean) to help him wipe out the last wolf pack. Roby then meets another girl (voiced by Eva Whittaker) who is part of a tribe rumored to transform into wolves by night.

I have to be honest that by the time I got around to start watching this, I was really burnt out and not in any mood to watch what I considered to look like a kiddie movie. It looks nice, but I’m sure I’d be able to enjoy it more in a different head (like watching first thing on a Saturday morning).

Regardless, Wolfwalkers will be in theaters nationwide this Friday and over the weekend via Fathom Events as well as get full theatrical runs at drive-ins sponsored by the Landmark, Angelika and L.A.’s Vineland before it debuts on Apple TV+ on December 11. Maybe I’ll write a proper review for that column. You can get tickets for the Fathom Events at  WolfwalkersMovie.com.

Next up is Miles Joris-Peyrafitte’s DREAMLAND (Paramount), starring Margot Robbie as Allison Wells, a bank-robbing criminal on the loose who encounters young man named Eugene Evans (Finn Cole) in rural Dust Bowl era North Dakota and convinces him to hide her and help her escape the authorities by taking her to Mexico.

Another movie where I wasn’t expecting much, more due to the generic title and genre than anything else, but it’s a pretty basic story of a young man in a small town who dreams of leaving and also glamorizes the crime stories he read in pulps. Because of the Great Depression in the late ’20, the crime wave was spreading out across the land and affecting everyone, even in more remote locations like the one at the center of Dreamland.

The sad truth is that there have been so many better movies about this era, including Warren Beatty’s Bonnie and Clyde, Lawless and many others. Because of that, this might not be bad but it’s definitely trying to follow movies that leave quite a long shadow. The innocent relationship between Eugene and Allison does add another level to the typical gangster story, but maybe that isn’t enough for Dreamland to really get past the fact that the romantic part of their relationship isn’t particularly believable.

As much as this might have been fine as a two-hander, you two have Travis Fimmel as Eugene’s stepfather and another generic white guy in Garrett Hedlund playing Allison’s Clyde Barrow-like partner in crime in the flashbacks. Cole has enough trouble keeping on pace with Robbie but then you have Fimmel, who was just grossly miscast. The film’s score ended up being so overpowering and annoying I wasn’t even remotely surprised when I saw that Joris-Peyrafitte is credited with co-writing the film’s score.

Dreamland is fine, though it really needed to have a stronger and more original vision to stand out. It’s another classic case of an actor being far better than the material she’s been given. This is being given a very limited theatrical release before being on digital next Tuesday.

This might have been Netflix week, but maybe it could have been “Saban Films Week,” since the distributor also has three new movies. Actually, only two, because I screwed up, and I missed the fact that André Øvredal’s MORTAL was released by Saban Films LAST week. Not entirely my fault because for some reason, I had it opening this week, and I only realized that I was wrong last Wednesday. Oh, well.  It stars Nate Wolff as Eric Bergeland, an American in Norway who seems to have some enigmatic powers, but after killing a young lad, he ends up on the lam with federal agent Christine (Iben Akerlie from Victoria).

This is another movie I really wanted to like since I’ve been such a fan of Øvredal from back to his movie Trollhunter. Certainly the idea of him taking a dark look at superpowers through the lends of Norse mythology should be right up my alley. Even so, this darker and more serious take on superpowers – while it might be something relatively unique and new in movies – it’s something anyone who has read comics has seen many times before and often quite better.

Wolff’s character is deliberately kept a mystery about where he comes from, and all we know is that he survived a fire at his farm, and we watched him kill a young man that’s part of a group of young bullies.  From there, it kind of turns into a procedural as the authorities and Akerlie’s character tries to find out where Eric came from and got his powers. It’s not necessarily a slow or talkie movie, because there are some impressive set pieces for sure, but it definitely feels more like Autopsy of Jane Doe than Trollhunters. Maybe my biggest is that this is a relatively drab and lifeless performance by Wolff, who I’ve seen be better in other films.

Despite my issues, it doesn’t lessen my feelings about Øvredal as a filmmaker, because there’s good music and use of visual FX -- no surprise if you’ve seen Trollhunters -- but there’s still a really bad underlying feeling that you’re watching a lower budget version of an “X-Men” movie, and not necessarily one of the better ones.  Despite a decent (and kinda crazy) ending, Mortal never really pays off, and it’s such a slog to get to that ending that people might feel slightly underwhelmed.

Seth Savoy’s ECHO BOOMERS (Saban Films) is a crime thriller based on a “true story if you believe in such things,” starring Patrick Schwarzenegger as Lance, a young art major, who falls in with a group of youths who break into rich people’s homes and trash them, also stealing some of the more valuable items for their leader Mel (Michael Shannon).

There’s a lot about Echo Boomers that’s going to feel familiar if you’ve seen Sofia Coppola’s The Bling Ring or the heist movie American Animals from a few years back, but even with those similarities, Seth Savoy has a strong cast and vision to make more out of the fairly weak writing than another director might manage. Schwarzenegger, who seems to be pulling in quite a wide range of roles for basically being another generic white actor is only part of a decent ensemble that includes Alex Pettyfer as the group’s ersatz alpha male Ellis and Hayley Law (also great in the recent Spontaneous) as his girlfriend Allie, the only girl taking part in the heists and destruction. Those three actors alone are great, but then you add Shannon just doing typically fantastic work as more of a catalyst than an antagonist.

You can probably expect there will be some dissension in the ranks, especially when the group’s “Fagan” Mel puts Lance in charge of keeping them in line and Allie forms a friendship with Lance. What holds the movie back is the decision to use a very traditional testimonial storytelling style where Lance and Allie narrate the story by relaying what happened to the authorities after their capture obviously. This doesn’t help take away from the general predictability of where the story goes either, because we’ve seen this type of thing going all the way back to The Usual Suspects.

While Echo Boomers might be fairly derivative of far better movies at times, it also has a strong directorial vision and a compelling story that makes up enough for that fact.

In theaters this Friday and then On Demand and Digital on November 24 is Eshom and Ian Nelms’ action-comedy FATMAN (Saban Films/Paramount), starring Mel Gibson as Santa Claus and Walton Goggins as the hired assassin sent to kill him by a spoiled rich boy named  Billy (Chance Hurstfield) who unhappy with the presents he’s being brought for Christmas.

While we seem to be surrounded by high concept movies of all shapes and sizes, you can’t get much more high concept than having Mel Gibson playing a tough and cantankerous* Kris Kringle (*Is this the week’s actual theme?) who is struggling to survive with Mrs. Klaus (played by the wonderful Marianne Jean-Baptiste from In Fabric) when they’re given the opportunity to produce military grade items for the army using his speedy elf workshop. Unbeknownst to the Kringles, the disgruntled hitman who also feels he’s been let down by Santa is on his way to the North Pole to fulfill his assignment.

You’ll probably know whether you’ll like this movie or not since its snarkier comedic tone is introduced almost from the very beginning. This is actually a pretty decent role for Gibson that really plays up to his strengths, and it’s a shame that there wasn’t more to it than just a fairly obvious action movie that leads to a shoot-out. I probably should have enjoyed Goggins more in a full-on villainous role but having been watching a lot of him on CBS’ The Unicorn, it’s kind of hard to adjust to him playing this kind of role.  I did absolutely love Marianne Jean-Baptiste and the warmth she brought to a relatively snarky movie.

I’m not sure if Fatman is the best showing of Eshom and Ian Nelms’ abilities as filmmakers, because they certainly have some, but any chance of being entertaining is tamped down by a feeling the filmmakers are constantly trying to play it safe. Because of this, Fatman has a few fun moments but a generally weak premise that never fully delivers. It would have thrived by being much crazier, but instead, it’s just far too mild.

Malin Åkerman stars in Paul Leyden’s CHICK FIGHT (Quiver Distribution) as Anna, a woman unhappy with her life and inability to survive on the little money she makes at her failing coffee shop. When Anna’s lesbian traffic cop friend Charleen (Dulcé Sloan) takes her to an underground fight club, Anna her trepidation about joining in, because she has never been in a fight in her life.  Learning that her mother has a legacy at the club, Anna agrees to be trained by Alec Baldwin’s always-drunk Murphy in order to take on the challenges of the likes of Bella Thorne’s Olivia.

Another movie where I’m not sure where to begin other than the fact that I’m not sure I’ve seen a movie trying so hard to be fun and funny and failing miserably at both. Listen, I generally love Akerman, and I’m always hoping for her to get stronger material to match her talents, but this tries its best to be edgy without ever really delivering on the most important thing for any comedy: Laughs.  Sure, the filmmakers try their best and even shoehorn a bit of romance for Anna in the form of the ring doctor played by Kevin Connolly from Entourage, but it does little to help distinguish the movie’s identity.

Listen, I’m not going to apologize for being a heterosexual male that finds Bella Thorne to be quite hot when she’s kicking ass in the ring. (I’m presuming that a lot of what we see in her scenes in the ring involves talented stuntwomen, but whoa! If that’s not the case.) Alec Baldwin seems to be in this movie merely as a favor to someone, possibly one of the producers, and when he disappears with no mention midway through the movie, you’re not particularly surprised. Another of trying too hard is having Anna’s father Ed (played by wrestler Kevin Nash) come out as gay and then use his every appearance to talk about his sex acts.  Others in the cast like Fortune Feimster seem to be there mainly for their bulk and believability as fighters.

Ultimately, Chick Fight is a fairly lame and bland girl power movie written, directed and mostly produced by men. I’m not sure why anyone might be expecting more from it than being a poorly-executed comedy lacking laughs.

And yet, that wasn’t the worst movie of the weekend. That would be Andrzej Bartkowiak’s DEAD RECKONING (Shout! Studios). Yes, the Polish cinematographer and filmmaker who once made the amazing Romeo is Bleeding, starring Gary Oldman and Lena Olin, has returned with a movie with the onus of a premise that reads “a thriller inspired by the Boston Marathon bombing in 2013.” No, I did not make that up. It mostly takes place in Nantucket, Massachusetts, which I guess is sort of close to Boston, but instead it focuses on the relationship between teens Niko (K.J. Apa) and Tillie (India Eisley), the latter whose parents died in a plane crash that might have been caused by a terrorist. It just so happens that Niko’s brother Marco (Scott Adkins) is an Albanian terrorist. Coincidence? I think not!

Once you get past the most generic title ever, Dead Reckoning is just plain awful. I probably should have known what to expect when the movie opens with Eric “Never Turned Down a Job” Roberts, but also, I strong feel that Scott Adkins, better known for his martial arts skills, is easily one of the worst actors ever to be given lines to say in a movie. And yet, somehow, there are even worse actors in this movie. How is that even possible?

Although this presumed action movie opens with one of three or four fight sequences, we’re soon hanging out on the beach with a bunch of annoying teenagers, including Tillie, who is drowning the sorrow of recently losing her parents by literally drinking constantly in almost every single scene. When she meets the handsome Eastern European Niko, we think there’s some chance of Tillie being saved, but it isn’t meant to be.

Part of what’s so weird is that Dead Reckoning begins in territory familiar to fans of Barkowiak’s movies like Exit Wounds, Cradle 2 the Grave and Maximum Impact but then quickly shifts gears to a soppy teen romance. It’s weird enough to throw you off when at a certain point, it returns to the main plot, which involves Adkins’ terrorist plot and the search by FBI Agent Cantrell (played by James Remar) to find the culprit who killed Tillie’s parents. Oh, the FBI agent is also Tillie’s godfather. Of course, he is.

Beyond the fact that I spent much of the movie wondering what these teens in Nantucket have to do with the opening scene or the overall premise, this is a movie that anything that could be resembling talent or skill in Barkowiak’s filmmaking is long gone. Going past the horrendous writing – at one point, the exasperated and quite xenophobic Cantrell exclaims, “It’s been a nightmare since 9/11... who knows what's next?” -- or the inability of much of the cast to make it seem like anyone involved cares about making a good movie, the film is strangled by a score that wants to remind you it’s a thriller even as you watch people having fun on the beach on a sunny day.

Eventually, it does get back to the action with a fight between Cantrell and Marco… and then Marco gets into a fight with Tillie’s nice aunt nurse Jennifer where she has a surprisingly amount of fighting skills. There’s also Nico’s best friend who is either British or gay or both, but he spends every one of his scenes acting so pretentious and annoying, you kind of hope he’ll be blown up by terrorists. Sadly, you have to wait until the last act before the surfboards are pulled out.  (Incidentally, filmmakers, please don’t call a character in your movie “Marco,” especially if that character’s name is going to be yelled out repeatedly, because it will just lead to someone in the audience to yell out “Polo!” This is Uwe Boll School of Bad Filmmaking 101!)

The point is that the movie is just all over the place yet in a place that’s even remotely watchable. There even was a point when Tillie was watching the video of her parents dying in a car crash for the third or fourth time, and I just started laughing, since it’s such a slipshod scene.

It’s very likely that Dead Reckoning will claim the honor of being the worst movie I’ve seen this year. Really, the only way to have any fun watching this disaster is to play a drinking game where you take a drink every time Eisley’s character takes a drink. Or better yet, just bail on the movie and hit the bottle, because I’m sure whoever funded this piece of crap is.

Opening at New York’s Film Forum on Wednesday is Manfred Kirchheimer’s FREE TIME (Grasshopper/Cinema Conservancy), another wonderful doc from one of the kings of old school cinema verité documentary filmmaking, consisting of footage of New York City from 1960 that’s pieced together with a wonderful jazz score. Let me tell you that Kirschheimer’s work is very relaxing to watch and Free Time is no exception. Plus the hour-long movie will premiere in Film Forum’s Virtual Cinema, accompanied by Rudy Burckhardt’s 1953 film Under the Brooklyn Bridge which captures Brooklyn in the ‘50s.

Also opening in Film Forum’s Virtual Cinema Friday is Hong Khaou’s MONSOON (Strand Releasing) starring Henry Golding (Crazy Rich Asians) as Kit, who returns to Ho Chi Minh City for the first time since his family fled after the Vietnam War when he was six. As he tries to make sense of it, he ends in a romance with Parker Sawyers’ American ex-pat and forms a friendship with a local student (Molly Harris). Unfortunately, I didn’t have the chance to watch this one before finishing up this column but hope to catch soon, because I do like Golding as an actor.

I shared my thoughts on Werner Herzog and Clive Oppenheimer’s FIREBALL: VISITORS FROM DARK WORLDS, when it played at TIFF in September, but this weekend, it will debut on Apple TV+.  It’s another interesting and educational science doc from Herr Herzog, this time teaming with the younger Cambridge geoscientist and “volcanologist” to look at the evidence left behind by meteors that have arrived within the earth’s atmosphere, including the races that worship the falling space objects.

Opening at the Metrograph this week (or rather on its website) is Shalini Kantayya’s documentary CODED BIAS, about the widespread bias in facial recognition and the algorithms that affect us all, which debuted Weds night and will be available on a PPV basis and will be available through November 17. The French New Wave anthology Six In Paris will also be available as a ticketed movie ($8 for members/$12 for non-members) through April 13. Starting Thursday as part of the Metrograph’s “Live Screenings” is Steven Fischler and Joel Sucher’s Free Voice of Labor: The Jewish Anarchists from 1980. Fischler’s earlier doc Frame Up! The imprisonment of Martin Sostre from 1974 will also be available through Thursday night.

Sadly, there are just way too many movies out this week, and some of the ones I just wasn’t able to get to include:

Dating Amber (Samuel Goldwyn) The Giant (Vertical) I Am Greta (Hulu) Dirty God (Dark Star Pictures) Where She Lies (Gravitas Ventures) Maybe Next Year (Wavelength Productions) Come Away (Relativity) Habitual (National Amusements) The Ride (Roadside Attractions, Forest, ESX) Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey (Netflix) Transference: A Love Story (1091) Sasquatch Among the Wildmen (Uncork’d) All Joking Aside (Quiver Distribution) Secret Zoo (MPI Medi Group/Capelight Pictures)

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, I think you’re very special and quite good-looking. Feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or drop me a note or tweet on Twitter. I love hearing from readers … honest!