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innuendostudios · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on: Criterion's Neo-Noir Collection

I have written up all 26 films* in the Criterion Channel's Neo-Noir Collection.

Legend: rw - rewatch; a movie I had seen before going through the collection dnrw - did not rewatch; if a movie met two criteria (a. I had seen it within the last 18 months, b. I actively dislike it) I wrote it up from memory.

* in September, Brick leaves the Criterion Channel and is replaced in the collection with Michael Mann's Thief. May add it to the list when that happens.

Note: These are very "what was on my mind after watching." No effort has been made to avoid spoilers, nor to make the plot clear for anyone who hasn't seen the movies in question. Decide for yourself if that's interesting to you.

Cotton Comes to Harlem I feel utterly unequipped to asses this movie. This and Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song the following year are regularly cited as the progenitors of the blaxploitation genre. (This is arguably unfair, since both were made by Black men and dealt much more substantively with race than the white-directed films that followed them.) Its heroes are a couple of Black cops who are treated with suspicion both by their white colleagues and by the Black community they're meant to police. I'm not 100% clear on whether they're the good guys? I mean, I think they are. But the community's suspicion of them seems, I dunno... well-founded? They are working for The Man. And there's interesting discussion to the had there - is the the problem that the law is carried out by racists, or is the law itself racist? Can Black cops make anything better? But it feels like the film stacks the deck in Gravedigger and Coffin Ed's favor; the local Black church is run by a conman, the Back-to-Africa movement is, itself, a con, and the local Black Power movement is treated as an obstacle. Black cops really are the only force for justice here. Movie portrays Harlem itself as a warm, thriving, cultured community, but the people that make up that community are disloyal and easily fooled. Felt, to me, like the message was "just because they're cops doesn't mean they don't have Black soul," which, nowadays, we would call copaganda. But, then, do I know what I'm talking about? Do I know how much this played into or off of or against stereotypes from 1970? Was this a radical departure I don't have the context to appreciate? Is there substance I'm too white and too many decades removed to pick up on? Am I wildly overthinking this? I dunno. Seems like everyone involved was having a lot of fun, at least. That bit is contagious.

Across 110th Street And here's the other side of the "race film" equation. Another movie set in Harlem with a Black cop pulled between the police, the criminals, and the public, but this time the film is made by white people. I like it both more and less. Pro: this time the difficult position of Black cop who's treated with suspicion by both white cops and Black Harlemites is interrogated. Con: the Black cop has basically no personality other than "honest cop." Pro: the racism of the police force is explicit and systemic, as opposed to comically ineffectual. Con: the movie is shaped around a racist white cop who beats the shit out of Black people but slowly forms a bond with his Black partner. Pro: the Black criminal at the heart of the movie talks openly about how the white world has stacked the deck against him, and he's soulful and relateable. Con: so of course he dies in the end, because the only way privileged people know to sympathetize with minorities is to make them tragic (see also: The Boys in the Band, Philadelphia, and Brokeback Mountain for gay men). Additional con: this time Harlem is portrayed as a hellhole. Barely any of the community is even seen. At least the shot at the end, where the criminal realizes he's going to die and throws the bag of money off a roof and into a playground so the Black kids can pick it up before the cops reclaim it was powerful. But overall... yech. Cotton Comes to Harlem felt like it wasn't for me; this feels like it was 100% for me and I respect it less for that.

The Long Goodbye (rw) The shaggiest dog. Like much Altman, more compelling than good, but very compelling. Raymond Chandler's story is now set in the 1970's, but Philip Marlowe is the same Philip Marlowe of the 1930's. I get the sense there was always something inherently sad about Marlowe. Classic noir always portrayed its detectives as strong-willed men living on the border between the straightlaced world and its seedy underbelly, crossing back and forth freely but belonging to neither. But Chandler stresses the loneliness of it - or, at least, the people who've adapted Chandler do. Marlowe is a decent man in an indecent world, sorting things out, refusing to profit from misery, but unable to set anything truly right. Being a man out of step is here literalized by putting him forty years from the era where he belongs. His hardboiled internal monologue is now the incessant mutterings of the weird guy across the street who never stops smoking. Like I said: compelling! Kael's observation was spot on: everyone in the movie knows more about the mystery than he does, but he's the only one who cares. The mystery is pretty threadbare - Marlowe doesn't detect so much as end up in places and have people explain things to him. But I've seen it two or three times now, and it does linger.

Chinatown (rw) I confess I've always been impressed by Chinatown more than I've liked it. Its story structure is impeccable, its atmosphere is gorgeous, its noirish fatalism is raw and real, its deconstruction of the noir hero is well-observed, and it's full of clever detective tricks (the pocket watches, the tail light, the ruler). I've just never connected with it. Maybe it's a little too perfectly crafted. (I feel similar about Miller's Crossing.) And I've always been ambivalent about the ending. In Towne's original ending, Evelyn shoots Noah Cross dead and get arrested, and neither she nor Jake can tell the truth of why she did it, so she goes to jail for murder and her daughter is in the wind. Polansky proposed the ending that exists now, where Evelyn just dies, Cross wins, and Jake walks away devastated. It communicates the same thing: Jake's attempt to get smart and play all the sides off each other instead of just helping Evelyn escape blows up in his face at the expense of the woman he cares about and any sense of real justice. And it does this more dramatically and efficiently than Towne's original ending. But it also treats Evelyn as narratively disposable, and hands the daughter over to the man who raped Evelyn and murdered her husband. It makes the women suffer more to punch up the ending. But can I honestly say that Towne's ending is the better one? It is thematically equal, dramatically inferior, but would distract me less. Not sure what the calculus comes out to there. Maybe there should be a third option. Anyway! A perfect little contraption. Belongs under a glass dome.

Night Moves (rw) Ah yeah, the good shit. This is my quintessential 70's noir. This is three movies in a row about detectives. Thing is, the classic era wasn't as chockablock with hardboiled detectives as we think; most of those movies starred criminals, cops, and boring dudes seduced to the darkness by a pair of legs. Gumshoes just left the strongest impressions. (The genre is said to begin with Maltese Falcon and end with Touch of Evil, after all.) So when the post-Code 70's decided to pick the genre back up while picking it apart, it makes sense that they went for the 'tecs first. The Long Goodbye dragged the 30's detective into the 70's, and Chinatown went back to the 30's with a 70's sensibility. But Night Moves was about detecting in the Watergate era, and how that changed the archetype. Harry Moseby is the detective so obsessed with finding the truth that he might just ruin his life looking for it, like the straight story will somehow fix everything that's broken, like it'll bring back a murdered teenager and repair his marriage and give him a reason to forgive the woman who fucked him just to distract him from some smuggling. When he's got time to kill, he takes out a little, magnetic chess set and recreates a famous old game, where three knight moves (get it?) would have led to a beautiful checkmate had the player just seen it. He keeps going, self-destructing, because he can't stand the idea that the perfect move is there if he can just find it. And, no matter how much we see it destroy him, we, the audience, want him to keep going; we expect a satisfying resolution to the mystery. That's what we need from a detective picture; one character flat-out compares Harry to Sam Spade. But what if the truth is just... Watergate? Just some prick ruining things for selfish reasons? Nothing grand, nothing satisfying. Nothing could be more noir, or more neo-, than that.

Farewell, My Lovely Sometimes the only thing that makes a noir neo- is that it's in color and all the blood, tits, and racism from the books they're based on get put back in. This second stab at Chandler is competant but not much more than that. Mitchum works as Philip Marlowe, but Chandler's dialogue feels off here, like lines that worked on the page don't work aloud, even though they did when Bogie said them. I'll chalk it up to workmanlike but uninspired direction. (Dang this looks bland so soon after Chinatown.) Moose Malloy is a great character, and perfectly cast. (Wasn't sure at first, but it's true.) Some other interesting cats show up and vanish - the tough brothel madam based on Brenda Allen comes to mind, though she's treated with oddly more disdain than most of the other hoods and is dispatched quicker. In general, the more overt racism and misogyny doesn't seem to do anything except make the movie "edgier" than earlier attempts at the same material, and it reads kinda try-hard. But it mostly holds together. *shrug*

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (dnrw) Didn't care for this at all. Can't tell if the script was treated as a jumping-off point or if the dialogue is 100% improvised, but it just drags on forever and is never that interesting. Keeps treating us to scenes from the strip club like they're the opera scenes in Amadeus, and, whatever, I don't expect burlesque to be Mozart, but Cosmo keeps saying they're an artful, classy joint, and I keep waiting for the show to be more than cheap, lazy camp. How do you make gratuitious nudity boring? Mind you, none of this is bad as a rule - I love digressions and can enjoy good sleaze, and it's clear the filmmakers care about what they're making. They just did not sell it in a way I wanted to buy. Can't remember what edit I watched; I hope it was the 135 minute one, because I cannot imagine there being a longer edit out there.

The American Friend (dnrw) It's weird that this is Patricia Highsmith, right? That Dennis Hopper is playing Tom Ripley? In a cowboy hat? I gather that Minghella's version wasn't true to the source, but I do love that movie, and this is a long, long way from that. This Mr. Ripley isn't even particularly talented! Anyway, this has one really great sequence, where a regular guy has been coerced by crooks into murdering someone on a train platform, and, when the moment comes to shoot, he doesn't. And what follows is a prolonged sequence of an amateur trying to surreptitiously tail a guy across a train station and onto another train, and all the while you're not sure... is he going to do it? is he going to chicken out? is he going to do it so badly he gets caught? It's hard not to put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, wondering how you would handle the situation, whether you could do it, whether you could act on impulse before your conscience could catch up with you. It drags on a long while and this time it's a good thing. Didn't much like the rest of the movie, it's shapeless and often kind of corny, and the central plot hook is contrived. (It's also very weird that this is the only Wim Wenders I've seen.) But, hey, I got one excellent sequence, not gonna complain.

The Big Sleep Unlike the 1946 film, I can follow the plot of this Big Sleep. But, also unlike the 1946 version, this one isn't any damn fun. Mitchum is back as Marlowe (this is three Marlowes in five years, btw), and this time it's set in the 70's and in England, for some reason. I don't find this offensive, but neither do I see what it accomplishes? Most of the cast is still American. (Hi Jimmy!) Still holds together, but even less well than Farewell, My Lovely. But I do find it interesting that the neo-noir era keeps returning to Chandler while it's pretty much left Hammet behind (inasmuch as someone whose genes are spread wide through the whole genre can be left behind). Spade and the Continental Op, straightshooting tough guys who come out on top in the end, seem antiquated in the (post-)modern era. But Marlowe's goodness being out of sync with the world around him only seems more poignant the further you take him from his own time. Nowadays you can really only do Hammett as pastiche, but I sense that you could still play Chandler straight.

Eyes of Laura Mars The most De Palma movie I've seen not made by De Palma, complete with POV shots, paranormal hoodoo, and fixation with sex, death, and whether images of such are art or exploitation (or both). Laura Mars takes photographs of naked women in violent tableux, and has gotten quite famous doing so, but is it damaging to women? The movie has more than a superficial engagement with this topic, but only slightly more than superficial. Kept imagining a movie that is about 30% less serial killer story and 30% more art conversations. (But, then, I have an art degree and have never murdered anyone, so.) Like, museums are full of Biblical paintings full of nude women and slaughter, sometimes both at once, and they're called masterpieces. Most all of them were painted by men on commission from other men. Now Laura Mars makes similar images in modern trappings, and has models made of flesh and blood rather than paint, and it's scandalous? Why is it only controversial once women are getting paid for it? On the other hand, is this just the master's tools? Is she subverting or challenging the male gaze, or just profiting off of it? Or is a woman profiting off of it, itself, a subversion? Is it subversive enough to account for how it commodifies female bodies? These questions are pretty clearly relevant to the movie itself, and the movies in general, especially after the fall of the Hays Code when people were really unrestrained with the blood and boobies. And, heck, the lead is played by the star of Bonnie and Clyde! All this is to say: I wish the movie were as interested in these questions as I am. What's there is a mildly diverting B-picture. There's one great bit where Laura's seeing through the killer's eyes (that's the hook, she gets visions from the murderer's POV; no, this is never explained) and he's RIGHT BEHIND HER, so there's a chase where she charges across an empty room only able to see her own fleeing self from ten feet behind. That was pretty great! And her first kiss with the detective (because you could see a mile away that the detective and the woman he's supposed to protect are gonna fall in love) is immediately followed by the two freaking out about how nonsensical it is for them to fall in love with each other, because she's literally mourning multiple deaths and he's being wildly unprofessional, and then they go back to making out. That bit was great, too. The rest... enh.

The Onion Field What starts off as a seemingly not-that-noirish cops-vs-crooks procedural turns into an agonizingly protracted look at the legal system, with the ultimate argument that the very idea of the law ever resulting in justice is a lie. Hoo! I have to say, I'm impressed. There's a scene where a lawyer - whom I'm not sure is even named, he's like the seventh of thirteen we've met - literally quits the law over how long this court case about two guys shooting a cop has taken. He says the cop who was murdered has been forgotten, his partner has never gotten to move on because the case has lasted eight years, nothing has been accomplished, and they should let the two criminals walk and jail all the judges and lawyers instead. It's awesome! The script is loaded with digressions and unnecessary details, just the way I like it. Can't say I'm impressed with the execution. Nothing is wrong, exactly, but the performances all seem a tad melodramatic or a tad uninspired. Camerawork is, again, purely functional. It's no masterpiece. But that second half worked for me. (And it's Ted Danson's first movie! He did great.)

Body Heat (rw) Let's say up front that this is a handsomely-made movie. Probably the best looking thing on the list since Night Moves. Nothing I've seen better captures the swelter of an East Coast heatwave, or the lusty feeling of being too hot to bang and going at it regardless. Kathleen Turner sells the hell out of a femme fatale. There are a lot of good lines and good performances (Ted Danson is back and having the time of his life). I want to get all that out of the way, because this is a movie heavily modeled after Double Indemnity, and I wanted to discuss its merits before I get into why inviting that comparison doesn't help the movie out. In a lot of ways, it's the same rules as the Robert Mitchum Marlowe movies - do Double Indemnity but amp up the sex and violence. And, to a degree it works. (At least, the sex does, dunno that Double Indemnity was crying out for explosions.) But the plot is amped as well, and gets downright silly. Yeah, Mrs. Dietrichson seduces Walter Neff so he'll off her husband, but Neff clocks that pretty early and goes along with it anyway. Everything beyond that is two people keeping too big a secret and slowly turning on each other. But here? For the twists to work Matty has to be, from frame one, playing four-dimensional chess on the order of Senator Palpatine, and its about as plausible. (Exactly how did she know, after she rebuffed Ned, he would figure out her local bar and go looking for her at the exact hour she was there?) It's already kind of weird to be using the spider woman trope in 1981, but to make her MORE sexually conniving and mercenary than she was in the 40's is... not great. As lurid trash, it's pretty fun for a while, but some noir stuff can't just be updated, it needs to be subverted or it doesn't justify its existence.

Blow Out Brian De Palma has two categories of movie: he's got his mainstream, director-for-hire fare, where his voice is either reigned in or indulged in isolated sequences that don't always jive with the rest fo the film, and then there's his Brian De Palma movies. My mistake, it seems, is having seen several for-hires from throughout his career - The Untouchables (fine enough), Carlito's Way (ditto, but less), Mission: Impossible (enh) - but had only seen De Palma-ass movies from his late period (Femme Fatale and The Black Dahlia, both of which I think are garbage). All this to say: Blow Out was my first classic-era De Palma, and holy fucking shit dudes. This was (with caveats) my absolute and entire jam. I said I could enjoy good sleaze, and this is good friggin' sleaze. (Though far short of De Palma at his sleaziest, mercifully.) The splitscreens, the diopter shots, the canted angles, how does he make so many shlocky things work?! John Travolta's sound tech goes out to get fresh wind fx for the movie he's working on, and we get this wonderful sequence of visuals following sounds as he turns his attention and his microphone to various noises - a couple on a walk, a frog, an owl, a buzzing street lamp. Later, as he listens back to the footage, the same sequence plays again, but this time from his POV; we're seeing his memory as guided by the same sequence of sounds, now recreated with different shots, as he moves his pencil in the air mimicking the microphone. When he mixes and edits sounds, we hear the literal soundtrack of the movie we are watching get mixed and edited by the person on screen. And as he tries to unravel a murder mystery, he uses what's at hand: magnetic tape, flatbed editors, an animation camera to turn still photos from the crime scene into a film and sync it with the audio he recorded; it's forensics using only the tools of the editing room. As someone who's spent some time in college editing rooms, this is a hoot and a half. Loses a bit of steam as it goes on and the film nerd stuff gives way to a more traditional thriller, but rallies for a sound-tech-centered final setpiece, which steadily builds to such madcap heights you can feel the air thinning, before oddly cutting its own tension and then trying to build it back up again. It doesn't work as well the second time. But then, that shot right after the climax? Damn. Conflicted on how the movie treats the female lead. I get why feminist film theorists are so divided on De Palma. His stuff is full of things feminists (rightly) criticize, full of women getting naked when they're not getting stabbed, but he also clearly finds women fascinating and has them do empowered and unexpected things, and there are many feminist reads of his movies. Call it a mixed bag. But even when he's doing tropey shit, he explores the tropes in unexpected ways. Definitely the best movie so far that I hadn't already seen.

Cutter's Way (rw) Alex Cutter is pitched to us as an obnoxious-but-sympathetic son of a bitch, and, you know, two out of three ain't bad. Watched this during my 2020 neo-noir kick and considered skipping it this time because I really didn't enjoy it. Found it a little more compelling this go around, while being reminded of why my feelings were room temp before. Thematically, I'm onboard: it's about a guy, Cutter, getting it in his head that he's found a murderer and needs to bring him to justice, and his friend, Bone, who intermittently helps him because he feels bad that Cutter lost his arm, leg, and eye in Nam and he also feels guilty for being in love with Cutter's wife. The question of whether the guy they're trying to bring down actually did it is intentionally undefined, and arguably unimportant; they've got personal reasons to see this through. Postmodern and noirish, fixated with the inability to ever fully know the truth of anything, but starring people so broken by society that they're desperate for certainty. (Pretty obvious parallels to Vietnam.) Cutter's a drunk and kind of an asshole, but understandably so. Bone's shiftlessness is the other response to a lack of meaning in the world, to the point where making a decision, any decision, feels like character growth, even if it's maybe killing a guy whose guilt is entirely theoretical. So, yeah, I'm down with all of this! A- in outline form. It's just that Cutter is so uninterestingly unpleasant and no one else on screen is compelling enough to make up for it. His drunken windups are tedious and his sanctimonious speeches about what the war was like are, well, true and accurate but also obviously manipulative. It's two hours with two miserable people, and I think Cutter's constant chatter is supposed to be the comic relief but it's a little too accurate to drunken rambling, which isn't funny if you're not also drunk. He's just tedious, irritating, and periodically racist. Pass.

Blood Simple (rw) I'm pretty cool on the Coens - there are things I've liked, even loved, in every Coen film I've seen, but I always come away dissatisfied. For a while, I kept going to their movies because I was sure eventually I'd love one without qualification. No Country for Old Men came close, the first two acts being master classes in sustained tension. But then the third act is all about denying closure: the protagonist is murdered offscreen, the villain's motives are never explained, and it ends with an existentialist speech about the unfathomable cruelty of the world. And it just doesn't land for me. The archness of the Coen's dialogue, the fussiness of their set design, the kinda-intimate, kinda-awkward, kinda-funny closeness of the camera's singles, it cannot sell me on a devastating meditation about meaninglessness. It's only ever sold me on the Coens' own cleverness. And that archness, that distancing, has typified every one of their movies I've come close to loving. Which is a long-ass preamble to saying, holy heck, I was not prepared for their very first movie to be the one I'd been looking for! I watched it last year and it remains true on rewatch: Blood Simple works like gangbusters. It's kind of Double Indemnity (again) but played as a comedy of errors, minus the comedy: two people romantically involved feeling their trust unravel after a murder. And I think the first thing that works for me is that utter lack of comedy. It's loaded with the Coens' trademark ironies - mostly dramatic in this case - but it's all played straight. Unlike the usual lead/femme fatale relationship, where distrust brews as the movie goes on, the audience knows the two main characters can trust each other. There are no secret duplicitous motives waiting to be revealed. The audience also know why they don't trust each other. (And it's all communicated wordlessly, btw: a character enters a scene and we know, based on the information that character has, how it looks to them and what suspicions it would arouse, even as we know the truth of it). The second thing that works is, weirdly, that the characters aren't very interesting?! Ray and Abby have almost no characterization. Outside of a general likability, they are blank slates. This is a weakness in most films, but, given the agonizingly long, wordless sequences where they dispose of bodies or hide from gunfire, you're left thinking not "what will Ray/Abby do in this scenario," because Ray and Abby are relatively elemental and undefined, but "what would I do in this scenario?" Which creates an exquisite tension but also, weirdly, creates more empathy than I feel for the Coens' usual cast of personalities. It's supposed to work the other way around! Truly enjoyable throughout but absolutely wonderful in the suspenseful-as-hell climax. Good shit right here.

Body Double The thing about erotic thrillers is everything that matters is in the name. Is it thrilling? Is it erotic? Good; all else is secondary. De Palma set out to make the most lurid, voyeuristic, horny, violent, shocking, steamy movie he could come up with, and its success was not strictly dependent on the lead's acting ability or the verisimilitude of the plot. But what are we, the modern audience, to make of it once 37 years have passed and, by today's standards, the eroticism is quite tame and the twists are no longer shocking? Then we're left with a nonsensical riff on Vertigo, a specularization of women that is very hard to justify, and lead actor made of pulped wood. De Palma's obsessions don't cohere into anything more this time; the bits stolen from Hitchcock aren't repurposed to new ends, it really is just Hitch with more tits and less brains. (I mean, I still haven't seen Vertigo, but I feel 100% confident in that statement.) The diopter shots and rear-projections this time look cheap (literally so, apparently; this had 1/3 the budget of Blow Out). There are some mildly interesting setpieces, but nothing compared to Travolta's auditory reconstructions or car chase where he tries to tail a subway train from street level even if it means driving through a frickin parade like an inverted French Connection, goddamn Blow Out was a good movie! Anyway. Melanie Griffith seems to be having fun, at least. I guess I had a little as well, but it was, at best, diverting, and a real letdown.

The Hit Surprised by how much I enjoyed this one. Terrance Stamp flips on the mob and spends ten years living a life of ease in Spain, waiting for the day they find and kill him. Movie kicks off when they do find him, and what follows is a ramshackle road movie as John Hurt and a young Tim Roth attempt to drive him to Paris so they can shoot him in front of his old boss. Stamp is magnetic. He's spent a decade reading philosophy and seems utterly prepared for death, so he spends the trip humming, philosophizing, and being friendly with his captors when he's not winding them up. It remains unclear to the end whether the discord he sews between Roth and Hurt is part of some larger plan of escape or just for shits and giggles. There's also a decent amount of plot for a movie that's not terribly plot-driven - just about every part of the kidnapping has tiny hitches the kidnappers aren't prepared for, and each has film-long repercussions, drawing the cops closer and somehow sticking Laura del Sol in their backseat. The ongoing questions are when Stamp will die, whether del Sol will die, and whether Roth will be able to pull the trigger. In the end, it's actually a meditation on ethics and mortality, but in a quiet and often funny way. It's not going to go down as one of my new favs, but it was a nice way to spend a couple hours.

Trouble in Mind (dnrw) I fucking hated this movie. It's been many months since I watched it, do I remember what I hated most? Was it the bit where a couple of country bumpkins who've come to the city walk into a diner and Mr. Bumpkin clocks that the one Black guy in the back as obviously a criminal despite never having seen him before? Was it the part where Kris Kristofferson won't stop hounding Mrs. Bumpkin no matter how many times she demands to be left alone, and it's played as romantic because obviously he knows what she needs better than she does? Or is it the part where Mr. Bumpkin reluctantly takes a job from the Obvious Criminal (who is, in fact, a criminal, and the only named Black character in the movie if I remember correctly, draw your own conclusions) and, within a week, has become a full-blown hood, which is exemplified by a lot, like, a lot of queer-coding? The answer to all three questions is yes. It's also fucking boring. Even out-of-drag Divine's performance as the villain can't save it.

Manhunter 'sfine? I've still never seen Silence of the Lambs, nor any of the Hopkins Lecter movies, nor, indeed, any full episode of the show. So the unheimlich others get seeing Brian Cox play Hannibal didn't come into play. Cox does a good job with him, but he's barely there. Shame, cuz he's the most interesting part of the movie. Honestly, there's a lot of interesting stuff that's barely there. Will Graham being a guy who gets into the heads of serial killers is explored well enough, and Mann knows how to direct a police procedural such that it's both contemplative and propulsive. But all the other themes it points at? Will's fear that he understands murderers a little too well? Hannibal trying to nudge him towards becoming one? Whatever dance Hannibal and Tooth Fairy are doing? What Tooth Fairy's deal is, anyway? (Why does he wear fake teeth and bite things? Why is he fixated on the red dragon? Does the bit where he says "Francis is gone forever" mean he has DID?) None of it goes anywhere or amounts to anything. I mean, it's certainly more interesting with this stuff than without, but it has that feel of a book that's been pared of its interesting bits to fit the runtime (or, alternately, pulp that's been sloppily elevated). I still haven't made my mind up on Mann's cold, precise camera work, but at least it gives me something to look at. It's fine! This is fine.

Mona Lisa (rw) Gave this one another shot. Bob Hoskins is wonderful as a hood out of his depth in classy places, quick to anger but just as quick to let anger go (the opening sequence where he's screaming on his ex-wife's doorstep, hurling trash cans at her house, and one minute later thrilled to see his old car, is pretty nice). And Cathy Tyson's working girl is a subtler kind of fascinating, exuding a mixture of coldness and kindness. It's just... this is ultimately a story about how heartbreaking it is when the girl you like is gay, right? It's Weezer's Pink Triangle: The Movie. It's not homophobic, exactly - Simone isn't demonized for being a lesbian - but it's still, like, "man, this straight white guy's pain is so much more interesting than the Black queer sex worker's." And when he's yelling "you woulda done it!" at the end, I can't tell if we're supposed to agree with him. Seems pretty clear that she wouldn'ta done it, at least not without there being some reveal about her character that doesn't happen, but I don't think the ending works if we don't agree with him, so... I'm like 70% sure the movie does Simone dirty there. For the first half, their growing relationship feels genuine and natural, and, honestly, the story being about a real bond that unfortunately means different things to each party could work if it didn't end with a gun and a sock in the jaw. Shape feels jagged as well; what feels like the end of the second act or so turns out to be the climax. And some of the symbolism is... well, ok, Simone gives George money to buy more appropriate clothes for hanging out in high end hotels, and he gets a tan leather jacket and a Hawaiian shirt, and their first proper bonding moment is when she takes him out for actual clothes. For the rest of the movie he is rocking double-breasted suits (not sure I agree with the striped tie, but it was the eighties, whaddya gonna do?). Then, in the second half, she sends him off looking for her old streetwalker friend, and now he looks completely out of place in the strip clubs and bordellos. So far so good. But then they have this run-in where her old pimp pulls a knife and cuts George's arm, so, with his nice shirt torn and it not safe going home (I guess?) he starts wearing the Hawaiian shirt again. So around the time he's starting to realize he doesn't really belong in Simone's world or the lowlife world he came from anymore, he's running around with the classy double-breasted suit jacket over the garish Hawaiian shirt, and, yeah, bit on the nose guys. Anyway, it has good bits, I just feel like a movie that asks me to feel for the guy punching a gay, Black woman in the face needs to work harder to earn it. Bit of wasted talent.

The Bedroom Window Starts well. Man starts an affair with his boss' wife, their first night together she witnesses an attempted murder from his window, she worries going to the police will reveal the affair to her husband, so the man reports her testimony to the cops claiming he's the one who saw it. Young Isabelle Huppert is the perfect woman for a guy to risk his career on a crush over, and Young Steve Guttenberg is the perfect balance of affability and amorality. And it flows great - picks just the right media to res. So then he's talking to the cops, telling them what she told him, and they ask questions he forgot to ask her - was the perp's jacket a blazer or a windbreaker? - and he has to guess. Then he gets called into the police lineup, and one guy matches her description really well, but is it just because he's wearing his red hair the way she described it? He can't be sure, doesn't finger any of them. He finds out the cops were pretty certain about one of the guys, so he follows the one he thinks it was around, looking for more evidence, and another girl is attacked right outside a bar he knows the redhead was at. Now he's certain! But he shows the boss' wife the guy and she's not certain, and she reminds him they don't even know if the guy he followed is the same guy the police suspected! And as he feeds more evidence to the cops, he has to lie more, because he can't exactly say he was tailing the guy around the city. So, I'm all in now. Maybe it's because I'd so recently rewatched Night Moves and Cutter's Way, but this seems like another story about uncertainty. He's really certain about the guy because it fits narratively, and we, the audience, feel the same. But he's not actually a witness, he doesn't have actual evidence, he's fitting bits and pieces together like a conspiracy theorist. He's fixating on what he wants to be true. Sign me up! But then it turns out he's 100% correct about who the killer is but his lies are found out and now the cops think he's the killer and I realize, oh, no, this movie isn't nearly as smart as I thought it was. Egg on my face! What transpires for the remaining half of the runtime is goofy as hell, and someone with shlockier sensibilities could have made a meal of it, but Hanson, despite being a Corman protege, takes this silliness seriously in the all wrong ways. Next!

Homicide (rw? I think I saw most of this on TV one time) Homicide centers around the conflicted loyalties of a Jewish cop. It opens with the Jewish cop and his white gentile partner taking over a case with a Black perp from some Black FBI agents. The media is making a big thing about the racial implications of the mostly white cops chasing down a Black man in a Black neighborhood. And inside of 15 minutes the FBI agent is calling the lead a k*ke and the gentile cop is calling the FBI agent a f****t and there's all kinds of invective for Black people. The film is announcing its intentions out the gate: this movie is about race. But the issue here is David Mamet doesn't care about race as anything other than a dramatic device. He's the Ubisoft of filmmakers, having no coherent perspective on social issues but expecting accolades for even bringing them up. Mamet is Jewish (though lead actor Joe Mantegna definitely is not) but what is his position on the Jewish diaspora? The whole deal is Mantegna gets stuck with a petty homicide case instead of the big one they just pinched from the Feds, where a Jewish candy shop owner gets shot in what looks like a stickup. Her family tries to appeal to his Jewishness to get him to take the case seriously, and, after giving them the brush-off for a long time, finally starts following through out of guilt, finding bits and pieces of what may or may not be a conspiracy, with Zionist gun runners and underground neo-Nazis. But, again: all of these are just dramatic devices. Mantegna's Jewishness (those words will never not sound ridiculous together) has always been a liability for him as a cop (we are told, not shown), and taking the case seriously is a reclamation of identity. The Jews he finds community with sold tommyguns to revolutionaries during the founding of Israel. These Jews end up blackmailing him to get a document from the evidence room. So: what is the film's position on placing stock in one's Jewish identity? What is its position on Israel? What is its opinion on Palestine? Because all three come up! And the answer is: Mamet doesn't care. You can read it a lot of different ways. Someone with more context and more patience than me could probably deduce what the de facto message is, the way Chris Franklin deduced the de facto message of Far Cry V despite the game's efforts not to have one, but I'm not going to. Mantegna's attempt to reconnect with his Jewishness gets his partner killed, gets the guy he was supposed to bring in alive shot dead, gets him possibly permanent injuries, gets him on camera blowing up a store that's a front for white nationalists, and all for nothing because the "clues" he found (pretty much exclusively by coincidence) were unconnected nothings. The problem is either his Jewishness, or his lifelong failure to connect with his Jewishness until late in life. Mamet doesn't give a shit. (Like, Mamet canonically doesn't give a shit: he is on record saying social context is meaningless, characters only exist to serve the plot, and there are no deeper meanings in fiction.) Mamet's ping-pong dialogue is fun, as always, and there are some neat ideas and characters, but it's all in service of a big nothing that needed to be a something to work.

Swoon So much I could talk about, let's keep it to the most interesting bits. Hommes Fatales: a thing about classic noir that it was fascinated by the marginal but had to keep it in the margins. Liberated women, queer-coded killers, Black jazz players, broke thieves; they were the main event, they were what audiences wanted to see, they were what made the movies fun. But the ending always had to reassert straightlaced straight, white, middle-class male society as unshakeable. White supremacist capitalist patriarchy demanded, both ideologically and via the Hays Code, that anyone outside these norms be punished, reformed, or dead by the movie's end. The only way to make them the heroes was to play their deaths for tragedy. It is unsurprising that neo-noir would take the queer-coded villains and make them the protagonists. Implicature: This is the story of Leopold and Loeb, murderers famous for being queer, and what's interesting is how the queerness in the first half exists entirely outside of language. Like, it's kind of amazing for a movie from 1992 to be this gay - we watch Nathan and Dickie kiss, undress, masturbate, fuck; hell, they wear wedding rings when they're alone together. But it's never verbalized. Sex is referred to as "your reward" or "what you wanted" or "best time." Dickie says he's going to have "the girls over," and it turns out "the girls" are a bunch of drag queens, but this is never acknowledged. Nathan at one point lists off a bunch of famous men - Oscar Wild, E.M. Forster, Frederick the Great - but, though the commonality between them is obvious (they were all gay), it's left the the audience to recognize it. When their queerness is finally verbalized in the second half, it's first in the language of pathology - a psychiatrist describing their "perversions" and "misuse" of their "organs" before the court, which has to be cleared of women because it's so inappropriate - and then with slurs from the man who murders Dickie in jail (a murder which is written off with no investigation because the victim is a gay prisoner instead of a L&L's victim, a child of a wealthy family). I don't know if I'd have noticed this if I hadn't read Chip Delany describing his experience as a gay man in the 50's existing almost entirely outside of language, the only language at the time being that of heteronormativity. Murder as Love Story: L&L exchange sex as payment for the other commiting crimes; it's foreplay. Their statements to the police where they disagree over who's to blame is a lover's quarrel. Their sentencing is a marriage. Nathan performs his own funeral rites over Dickie's body after he dies on the operating table. They are, in their way, together til death did they part. This is the relationship they can have. That it does all this without romanticizing the murder itself or valorizing L&L as humans is frankly incredible.

Suture (rw) The pitch: at the funeral for his father, wealthy Vincent Towers meets his long lost half brother Clay Arlington. It is implied Clay is a child from out of wedlock, possibly an affair; no one knows Vincent has a half-brother but him and Clay. Vincent invites Clay out to his fancy-ass home in Arizona. Thing is, Vincent is suspected (correctly) by the police of having murdered his father, and, due to a striking family resemblence, he's brought Clay to his home to fake his own death. He finagles Clay into wearing his clothes and driving his car, and then blows the car up and flees the state, leaving the cops to think him dead. Thing is, Clay survives, but with amnesia. The doctors tell him he's Vincent, and he has no reason to disagree. Any discrepancy in the way he looks is dismissed as the result of reconstructive surgery after the explosion. So Clay Arlington resumes Vincent Towers' life, without knowing Clay Arlington even exists. The twist: Clay and Vincent are both white, but Vincent is played by Michael Harris, a white actor, and Clay is played by Dennis Haysbert, a Black actor. "Ian, if there's just the two of them, how do you know it's not Harris playing a Black character?" Glad you asked! It is most explicitly obvious during a scene where Vincent/Clay's surgeon-cum-girlfriend essentially bringing up phrenology to explain how Vincent/Clay couldn't possibly have murdered his father, describing straight hair, thin lips, and a Greco-Roman nose Haysbert very clearly doesn't have. But, let's be honest: we knew well beforehand that the rich-as-fuck asshole living in a huge, modern house and living it up in Arizona high society was white. Though Clay is, canonically, white, he lives an poor and underprivileged life common to Black men in America. Though the film's title officially refers to the many stitches holding Vincent/Clay's face together after the accident, "suture" is a film theory term, referring to the way a film audience gets wrapped up - sutured - in the world of the movie, choosing to forget the outside world and pretend the story is real. The usage is ironic, because the audience cannot be sutured in; we cannot, and are not expected to, suspend our disbelief that Clay is white. We are deliberately distanced. Consequently this is a movie to be thought about, not to to be felt. It has the shape of a Hitchcockian thriller but it can't evoke the emotions of one. You can see the scaffolding - "ah, yes, this is the part of a thriller where one man hides while another stalks him with a gun, clever." I feel ill-suited to comment on what the filmmakers are saying about race. I could venture a guess about the ending, where the psychiatrist, the only one who knows the truth about Clay, says he can never truly be happy living the lie of being Vincent Towers, while we see photographs of Clay/Vincent seemingly living an extremely happy life: society says white men simply belong at the top more than Black men do, but, if the roles could be reversed, the latter would slot in seamlessly. Maybe??? Of all the movies in this collection, this is the one I'd most want to read an essay on (followed by Swoon).

The Last Seduction (dnrw) No, no, no, I am not rewataching this piece of shit movie.

Brick (rw) Here's my weird contention: Brick is in color and in widescreen, but, besides that? There's nothing neo- about this noir. There's no swearing except "hell." (I always thought Tug said "goddamn" at one point but, no, he's calling The Pin "gothed-up.") There's a lot of discussion of sex, but always through implication, and the only deleted scene is the one that removed ambiguity about what Brendan and Laura get up to after kissing. There's nothing postmodern or subversive - yes, the hook is it's set in high school, but the big twist is that it takes this very seriously. It mines it for jokes, yes, but the drama is authentic. In fact, making the gumshoe a high school student, his jadedness an obvious front, still too young to be as hard as he tries to be, just makes the drama hit harder. Sam Spade if Sam Spade were allowed to cry. I've always found it an interesting counterpoint to The Good German, a movie that fastidiously mimics the aesthetics of classic noir - down to even using period-appropriate sound recording - but is wholly neo- in construction. Brick could get approved by the Hays Code. Its vibe, its plot about a detective playing a bunch of criminals against each other, even its slang ("bulls," "yegg," "flopped") are all taken directly from Hammett. It's not even stealing from noir, it's stealing from what noir stole from! It's a perfect curtain call for the collection: the final film is both the most contemporary and the most classic. It's also - but for the strong case you could make for Night Moves - the best movie on the list. It's even more appropriate for me, personally: this was where it all started for me and noir. I saw this in theaters when it came out and loved it. It was probably my favorite movie for some time. It gave me a taste for pulpy crime movies which I only, years later, realized were neo-noir. This is why I looked into Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and In Bruges. I've seen it more times than any film on this list, by a factor of at least 3. It's why I will always adore Rian Johnson and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. It's the best-looking half-million-dollar movie I've ever seen. (Indie filmmakers, take fucking notes.) I even did a script analysis of this, and, yes, it follows the formula, but so tightly and with so much style. Did you notice that he says several of the sequence tensions out loud? ("I just want to find her." "Show of hands.") I notice new things each time I see it - this time it was how "brushing Brendan's hair out of his face" is Em's move, making him look more like he does in the flashback, and how Laura does the same to him as she's seducing him, in the moment when he misses Em the hardest. It isn't perfect. It's recreated noir so faithfully that the Innocent Girl dies, the Femme Fatale uses intimacy as a weapon, and none of the women ever appear in a scene together. 1940's gender politics maybe don't need to be revisited. They say be critical of the media you love, and it applies here most of all: it is a real criticism of something I love immensely.

#film noir #neo-noir #criterion channel

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lumosinlove · 4 years ago

Text

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react.

Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon.

Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”

Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics.

James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts.

Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices.

Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now.

Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him.

part iv

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi.

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that Sirius saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small U of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his Wolfsbane on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it did, but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like he was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. You, obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “Fine. But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of those are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“Hear things? You’ve never been?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food.

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

A boyfriend? Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your mind it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “Yeah,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, can you believe this? before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know why Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now.

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. How much do you think you owe us by now?

Others? he wanted to ask. What others?

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “Was a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and never seen again.”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know where off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He wanted to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“Leonardo,” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What does your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“Saint?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do that,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“Saint?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. Got it, it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “Saint.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

Oh, Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“Black!” a new voice shouted. “Thank fuck.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is Dorcas?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off me,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a prejudice piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“Obviously,” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re sorry, we misspoke. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night. That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? No, I don’t have that much just—on me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling Crucio? To Gods?”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how not careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, clever boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And no.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can buy Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can walk back in there and buy Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere near that place and you are never getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do something,” Logan shouted back. “I need to do something, I can’t just leave him in there, he’s everything to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You know he did—”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am never going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“Them?” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“Tell me, right now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone.”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost B instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.

#warnings: brief mention of drugs and past abuse and death of a father #relic keel #lumosinlove #relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #saint #lumosinlove ocs #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #lelo #Logan Tremblay x Leo knut #o'knutzy

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jamilelucato · 4 years ago

Text

Faking It - Pt.1 [F. W.]

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader; Fred Weasley x reader.

Part 2 || Part 3

Summary: You’re a Slytherin dating Draco Malfoy and life is pretty normal until Fred Weasley decides that the best prank against Draco involves you; this won’t end well, will it?

*gif not mine

[y/h/c] = your hair colour; [y/e/c] = your eye colour.

Warnings: cheating, I guess

Words: 2k+

A/N: This might be my most non-canon fic ever since I don’t even know which year this fic passes on, so forgive me if you guys like it more when it’s faithful to the books. This is a series, so be free to ask if you wanna be tagged.

—

Fred Weasley had a plan, and according to him, it was going to be the best prank he had ever thrown.

He had come with the idea after a match of Quidditch where Harry got severely injured by Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin's Seeker. Harry Potter kept claiming he was alright and Madam Pomfrey assured that it was just two weeks of wearing a plaster on his arm, but that was not enough for Fred. He was tired of Malfoy and his friends — and with his whole family since Harry pointed out that it was Draco's father who got Ginny in all the trouble on her first year.

George came to him, asking what they were going to do — the younger twin suggested dung bombs, but Fred thought that was too simple and they could get caught easily.

So Fred spent the whole weekend walking around Hogwarts, wishing for an idea to pop out. He even went to the library, and that was not something he usually did. However, the idea came just before he opened the first spellbook he saw in one of the shelves.

Not so far from him stood y/N, concentrated on the book she had in hands. The idea came instantly.

Y/N was a Slytherin one year younger than him that was most known to be Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. Fred could understand why Draco would pick you. You looked spicy, especially right at that moment, when you stood focused and bit your lower lip when the book got interesting.

Your (y/h/c) hair was in a high ponytail that made you look remarkably powerful. Generally, the twins avoided pranking you because, differently from your boyfriend, you were good at finding out the guilty, and you'd caught the twins many times before. Your (y/e/c) looked up from the book, and Fred quickly turned away, scared of what you'd think of him if you saw he had been staring.

What Fred didn't know was that you knew he was staring; you knew that since he had first laid eyes on you. You were expecting him to look away, but since he seemed unwilling to do so, you were about to use extreme measures. It wasn't needed though — once you laid eyes on him, he had turned his back on you.

Fred walked away from the library, running a little when he was out of your sight. The plan had come to him — he just needed to work out the details, and, for that, he'd require his brother.

George was in the courtyard, sitting on the floor with Angelina. She placed her head on his lap while he played with locks of her hair. They seemed peaceful, and Fred wondered how long would it take for both of them to accept they were in love. He expected he wouldn't have to take her for a second Ball — Fred took Angelina the first time to make his brother jealous, and George finally realized that he might like Angelina more than just as friends at the end of the event.

Angelina knew the troublemakers the twins were, so Fred wasn't worried about spilling the beans in front of her. He sat next to his brother and started telling George his idea.

"I've got the greatest prank ever — and the best part of it is that it can have thousands of other pranks while the biggest one is happening."

George stopped playing with the girl's hair and looked to his brother, expecting Fred to continue explaining.

"There's only one person that knows Malfoy's every step, only one person that can tell us his entire schedule," he proceeded.

"Potter?" George suggested, and Angelina gasped, holding a laugh. It was true that the boy who lived had some obsession towards Draco, but George didn't think he could know Draco's whole schedule.

"No, silly — Y/N," Fred answered, raising a brow as if he was saying something important.

"As if she's gonna tell us," George remarked, avoiding his brother's angry looks, and turning back to play with Angelina's hair.

"She could," Fred continued, "if she liked us enough."

"And how you're gonna make her like us?" George wondered, facing his twin again.

Even Angelina seemed curious as she looked up at the boys.

"Not both of us — just me," Fred raised a brow again, hoping his twin would get it, but he didn't. Fred sighed. "I'm gonna seduce her."

That was it. Angelina and George cracked up, laughing so hard and loud that the girl had to get up from George's lap so she could breathe properly.

"Yeah, pretty boy, I'd like to see you compete with Draco," Angelina said, still giggling.

"Was that suppose to mean?"

"Oi, Fred! Look at you — worn-out jumpers, same sneakers every day, you don't even brush your hair, I think..." Fred was offended by the remark and Angelina apologized, but she wasn't very serious when she said sorry. "I just said that because look at her and her boyfriend — have you ever seen those two without being formally dressed?"

"She's right, mate," agreed George, "Draco is always in his best suits, and he combs his hair in the right direction and everything."

"You are saying she couldn't fall for me?" Fred wondered out loud, looking down at himself. Yes, he was wearing one of his oldest jumpers that were far from formal, and his hair was a mess; however, that was just because it was Sunday. Or at least, that was what he told himself.

"I'm saying you're not her type," Angelina said, "and neither she's yours."

"Well, I don't have to fall for her, Angie," Fred pointed out, tilting his head while he said the nickname she hated so much. She didn't bother with it though, she probably knew the damaged her comments had made to his ego. "She's the one who has to fall for me. And it's just a prank — it'll last less than a month."

"It'll take longer than that to make she fall for..." Angelina almost insulted him, but she stopped, "you."

"Yeah, mate. Girls take longer to fall in love," George added.

"So I'll start tomorrow right away," Fred promised, more to himself than to the pair in front of him.

Y/N could be a pretty girl, but she was still a disgusting Slytherin that spoke ill of everyone around her, especially people from other houses. He'd have to be very careful around her, so he could avoid his disgust to come out.

"That'll be something I'll like to see," Angelina laid back at George's lap.

"You won't see it, Angie. I'm supposed to be her love affair, get it? No one's to know," Fred smirked, but Angelina just rolled her eyes.

George shrugged, paying more attention to the surrounding than to his twin.

"Well, if it works, it'll be much easier to prank Draco," George finally gave in, after thinking about it for a minute.

"That's the spirit, little brother!" Fred shouted, tapping his twin's back before leaving.

*** After a stop at Harry's dorm — Fred needed to take a quick peek at the Marauder's Map —, he left the Gryffindor's Tower and started rambling around towards where he knew he would find y/N.

He was wearing his best trousers combined with his newest white shirt — that one was actually part of the school uniform, but since it had no symbols on it, Fred thought it'd be enough. He combed his hair two times before he left his room, and he was not wearing sneakers, the first time in almost forever.

One would think he was dress to impress, and that was the truth. It was the first Monday night after he and his brother talked about pranking Draco Malfoy and dragging y/N y/L/N with him.

You were wandering around the dungeons, a privilege you held ever since the last Prefect was sick. Professor Snape pointed you out for the replacement, at least until the real Prefect got better, much to Mr Filch dismay. He did not like you, not even a bit, mostly because you and your boyfriend use to walk around, joking with every student that came to your encounter.

Although now you were a Prefect and therefore allowed to walk around, you avoided meeting Filch, because you knew he'd find a way to punish you. And that was what you were doing when you saw him.

You were not yet sure which Weasley twin that one was, and it was harder because of the way he was dressed. You had never seen the twins like that — so dressy. Of course, you'd seen people more formal than that, but for the Weasleys, that was too much.

His hair, differently than his usual style, was slicked back and his hands were carefully positioned inside his pockets. Was he heading to a date? You wondered.

"Mr Weasley, would you inform me where are you going after the curfew?" you asked, walking towards him.

He raised a brow, smirking at you.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he commented, and you noticed that besides well-dressed, he was also wearing a rather strong perfume. Very manly.

"Yes, I would, because I'll have to report it to your Head of House," you explained, smiling confidently.

You stared at him, but your eyes wandered to behind the tall red-head. Mr Filch seemed to be coming in your direction. You gulped, not knowing what to do. Punishing the Weasley would give you a week of special treatment from your Slytherin's friends, but was it enough being caught by the caretaker?

You had no more seconds to think.

"Come with me, Weasley, and walk quickly."

You hoped he was following you as you ran towards the secret passage not so much far away from where you two were chatting. You pulled the curtain aside, walking in a small compartment and you heard the curtain being pushed back at the place while you turned around, facing the Weasley, closer than you two had ever been before.

"Straight to the point, aren't you, y/N?" he said, smirking down at you. His perfume had filled the place, and you started breathing slowly to smell it less.

"Don't play smart, Weasley," you frowned, "We'll be leaving soon."

"As soon as Filch disappear?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Whichever twin that was, he probably was as used as you to be running away from the caretaker.

"So you don't wanna be catch by him either," you smirked, crossing your arms.

"I'd much rather be caught by you," he said, trying hard to suggest second intentions.

"Would you now, Weasley?" you rolled your eyes again. It was so easy to find that family repugnant. "Don't think I've forgotten you're past curfew wandering around. I'll have to report you."

"You do that, baby."

"Don't — Don't call me 'baby'!" you shouted, slapping his arm.

He wasn't hard by your action, which surprised you. You were usually rather strong, at least, Draco hated when you tried to slap him.

You two stayed in silence — he didn't dare speak again, and you had no idea what to say. It was an uncomfortable moment, one that you were not used to. The place you two were hiding was rather small — and you knew it very well as you used to go there to kiss Draco when you two weren't official yet. You thought what would he think if he caught you there with a Weasley, and the thought scared you.

"You think he's gone?" you asked.

"Hope not," replied the twin and frowned.

"Be better, would you?"

You pulled the curtain to open just a bit and took a peek around.

"We're free," you warned, just then noticing how closer to the Weasley you were. How stupid was your idea of looking out for Mr Filch when the boy was closer to the curtain? Merlin, you looked ridiculous now, almost supported by his body.

You adjusted your posture, getting away from the red-haired boy as fast as you could and gulped.

"You go first," you signalized with your hand.

"What if he's still out there?"

"Then you'll get caught, wouldn't you?" your rhetorical question echoed around the small space and the boy finally walked out. You followed.

You took a last peek around.

"Well, Weasley, that's it. I'm gonna report you now."

"I'd gladly tell everyone the two minutes we spend together behind this curtain, y/N," he said, smiling, "You known, in case someone asked how I got caught."

Oh, shit, he was up to play dirty. You sighed; there was nothing you could do. If Draco heard about it... Oh, Merlin. Besides, you didn't even know which Weasley was that, so what would you tell McGonagall? "I saw George Weasley walking around, past-curfew" and then she'd say "That's a lie, honey, he was talking with me in detention all night." Reporting the boy was fated to fail from the beginning.

"You are free of charges, Weasley. But don't get used to it. I'll report you next time I see you walking around."

"If next time you see me, we spend another two minutes in a small hidden spot again, then I'd be happy to be reported," he smirked and started walking away from you.

You were exploding in anger. Who that boy thought he was? Was he really trying to — argh, the word disgusted you — seduce you? Did he think he could?

In the middle of the night, you let out a dry laugh that cut the silence rather loudly. Just what you needed — another reckless boy to cause problems in your life. Wasn't Draco enough?

PART 2 HERE

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x slytherin reader #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley #fred and george #fred and george weasley #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x slytherin reader #prank #hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley imagine

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 4 years ago

Note

(Which Spider-Man?) Mary-Jane takes Miles under her wing instead or Peter has to kill Beck

(set after into the spiderverse)

defeating kingpin and sending the other spider... well, men off to their own worlds felt great, but once it’s over miles has to face the fact that he’s still starting out on his own here and this world’s peter parker, his spiderman, is still fresh in the city’s memory. it means he gets some weird and mixed reactions from people during his first few swing-throughs of the city, but he tries to take them in his stride.

he reminds himself that he has people to go to for advice and support and an entire, whaddayacallit, spider cave to peruse if he wants to. there’s fresh and advanced webshooters, web fluid, costume changes, tracking and recording equipment, and besides, may parker is badass. there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be hanging out there all the time.

except--

there’s this way may’s eyes soften and get watery when she’s looking at him and thinks he isn’t noticing, her entire body cratering at the centre after being upright for so long. it’s awkward when she once asks him to call her ‘aunt may’ then stops herself, looking stricken, then never brings it up again. sitting in her house sipping hot chocolate means remembering the first time he was sitting in that hall; looking at the fading scorch marks on the wall; thinking uncle aaron i miss you and realising for probably the hundredth time that week that he’s never going to see his uncle again. it’s like he’s surrounded by a thousand invisible emotional tripwires, and he’s always walking into them and falling into some memory.

so, yeah. he doesn’t really go to may’s much, unless it’s for an emergency, or he’s running low on web fluid, or needs to repair his costume. it’s during one such trip that he finds mary jane watson sitting in the spidercave.

mj (because of course she wants him to call her mj) is… nice. she’s nice. there’s not a whole lot more miles can say at first because again: peter parker is this sort of insurmountable wall between them, and as much as he bonded with other (his) pete, he isn’t quite sure what this (not his peter but technically his universe’s, so, well. shit. this is all very confusing) peter was really like. he was very kind to miles when he first saw him (and quicker to put two and two together) but did he have that same exhausted dad energy? was he scarily competent and an absolute slob at the same time? did he get that soft, wondering look in his eyes, like he’d received a gift he never expected to get, whenever he thought nobody was looking at him? did he ask his famous-in-her-own-right journalist girlfriend to help him be spider-man, or was that part of him mostly a mystery to her too?

miles could ask said-girlfriend, but… it’s too soon. too raw. too awkward. too miles-has-schoolwork-and-vigilantism-consuming-every-second-of-his-life-and-he-just-doesn’t-have-any-leftover-energy-to-deal-with-this.

they exchange phone numbers during their second meeting and it continues to be weird at first (what’s miles going to do? send mary jane watson pictures of minecraft memes?), but he quickly discovers that mj isn’t really interested in spiderman related--or even adjacent--conversations either. it’s mostly messages asking him about his day, or about school, or if spiderman’s really taking the subway every other morning (miles’ spider genes apparently don’t allow him to withstand swinging from building to building after a full cheeseburger meal). miles quickly loses his nervousness and it even becomes a sort of comfort.

then: the messages start getting… different. what you’re looking for isn’t there and see attachment and i can get you oscorp’s internal files on this and the nuclear material is coming in from oslo not ohio what the fuck even is this spellcheck

all the tips pan out because of course they do, it’s mary jane watson. miles isn’t entirely sure how she seems to know so often what he’s working on, but he suspects that she watches where he’s been as spiderman closer than he first thought.

still, he feels awkward enough that it’s a while before he texts her i think i’m stuck on this one.

the reply is almost immediate: i thought you’d never ask.

being spider-man is all fun and games until it suddenly isn’t: when miles realises he’s out there in the middle of an inferno without backup, during every moment he jumps off a building and thinks for a split-second, mid-air: what if i don’t make that next landing. more often than not he makes it out okay at the end of the day, but there are also moments like this: stuck under a wooden beam, hurt just enough that he can’t muster the strength to throw the beam off his back, fire raging in the floors beneath him, the heat wafting up threatening to cook him in his nice superhero suit.

i might not make it is no longer a split-second thought. in fact it’s a thought that occupies a lot of whole seconds strung together.

then: “spiderman!”

the shout is followed a few seconds later by mj herself, her form shimmering and wavering in the heat, handkerchief pressed to her nose and mouth. when she sees him her watering eyes light up.

miles’ jaw hangs open, and something clicks in his head: there’s no way spiderman could’ve existed without this reckless, brave, smart yet so stupid, incredible person.

he’s a lot less nervous about asking for help after that, and about reminding her that yeah, he can be a little foolish at times, but she was the one who ran alone into a burning building to help somebody with super-strength and super-healing. she never argues that last one, just smiles fondly.

mj becomes fast friends with miles’ mother. miles doesn’t even remember how they met--ran into each other at the grocery store every weekend? something. it isn’t really relevant. what’s important is that now mj and his mom appear to be best friends, and miles isn’t sure how to feel about this. he gets the notion that, despite not being bitten by a radioactive spider, mj is much farther along in this world than he is. boundaries are different. more porous.

even so, mj is… something else.

sometimes, sitting across from her at the dining table at home, it feels like the world is a little bit warmer, a little more… complete. then she would catch his eye and give him a knowing smile, and miles is in his costume again, poised at the apex of an expansive arc and not knowing where he’s going to land in a world he’s starting to realise he doesn’t really understand after all.

he never tells mj about the multiverse spidermen, though he can tell she is curious about where he disappears to every now and then. truth be told, he’s a bit scared of how she’ll react to the idea of other peters existing.

months after that first meeting, miles and mj visit peter’s grave together.

it’s probably the first time miles has seen mj be anything but calm and put-together. exhaustion piles in like sand in a tipped hourglass. her shoulders slump and her nails claw into a faded sweatshirt that she’s holding in her hands. and yet… she’s holding back, miles realises. for all that he’s seen of her in the last several months, there’s a layer she’s still reserving for peter and miles… doesn’t resent it exactly, this peter spectre that keeps coming up between him and everything that he wants to know about how to do his job, but he hopes…

he hopes he’ll get to know mj some day.

he walks away to a cafe nearby. mj joins him half an hour later, eyes red and mascara smeared but her face dry. they buy milkshakes and plot their next move against doc ock.

( send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons! )

#spiderman #into the spiderverse #miles morales #mary jane watson #my fic #sillierthanasillylaugh #i got stuck halfway through this #like proper STUCK - for a whole month #and my brain didn't allow me to work on anything else until i finished this so #it's been a frustrating month #it's done and i kinda never want to see it again

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shebeafancyflapjack · 4 years ago

Text

Consequences

Follow-up to What She Needs, because who doesn’t love make-up fluff.

She wakes to the sound of eggs sizzling on a frying pan, the greasy smell of bacon wafting over her. Her stomach rumbles but she’s not ready to get up just yet, snuggled into the sofa beneath the shirt that’s been laid over her.

It’s not a bad position to wake up in but it leaves her a little disoriented.

What time is it? If she’s on the couch then it must be the afternoon but...they wouldn’t be having fried eggs and bacon this late - not that either of them gave a fork about eating routines, it just wasn’t usual. She doesn’t recall practicing walking or swimming earlier, her hair isn’t damp, her calf muscles aren’t cramping...

Ten seconds is all it takes for the time to rearrange itself properly in her head, for the barrage of memories to slot in place like a magical jigsaw and recall why she’s waking up alone, on the sofa, in the morning. And why she shouldn’t be calling the nearby chef over for a good morning kiss. He doesn’t deserve one...not yet. So she stays quiet, pretending to stir and mumble to show she’s awake, but keeping her eyes and mouth shut.

At least he left a nice, warm indent for her to lay in for as long as she wants to stay there and let him wait on her.

She barely remembers the nightmare that forced her to seek out Michael’s comfort, it’s been dissolved by the peaceful sleep and sanctuary she slept through until a minute ago. When her mind attempts to recall it, against her will, all she catches are the worst sensations of fear and loneliness, absence of all hope, her skin crawling as if covered in dung beetles. Again. Eleanor inhales, letting the scents and sounds of the beach house return her to the present.

Michael places her mug on the coffee table. Fork, she’s gonna have to give in and sit up now. She’s prepared to wait until she hears him move back to the kitchen. Then his fingers stroke some of her hair from her face, then brush against her cheek. Forking...

“Y’know I could bite your hand right now.” She murmurs, eyes still closed.

“It’d be worth it.” Michael tells her, softly; “Plus Janet would just grow it back.”

“Ugh, gross.” Eleanor wrinkles her nose; “You’re like a lizard.”

“Oh so it’s fine when you call me a...” She opens her eyes in time to see him bite his tongue as he kneels beside the couch; “Never mind.”

Indeed. She’s glad to see he’s smart enough not to dig his hole even deeper than it already is.

He gives her a humble smile; “How you feeling?”

“Still annoyed with you. I’ll update you when that changes, bud.” Eleanor pushes herself up and yawns.

“I figured that. I meant after...Last night...”

Oh.

“You can just say ‘nightmares’, man, it’s not a forbidden word.” She accepts the coffee when he passes it to her; “And I’m okay...Don’t even remember it. Just is what it is.” And it sucks; “It’s not like you can take them away or anything.”

“I could. I mean...” he takes a breath, “I could always...take the memories away...It’s crossed my mind more than once.”

She takes a sip of her drink, studying the conflict on his face.

“...Could you do it without erasing our time together?”

Michael shakes his head.

She shrugs; “Then it’s not an option, dummy.” Her eyes harden when he dares to look touched by that; “And don’t assume that means I like you again!”

They don’t say another word to each other until she’s nearly finished her breakfast, sat the kitchen island, stomach ravenous after eating nothing but Janet-delivered snacks with her drink instead of dinner the previous night. Michael sits opposite, slowly making his way through his hash browns, eyes cast downwards, almost unnaturally quiet.

He nudges a couple of baked beans with his knife, looking pensive. He takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Eleanor glances up, still chewing her eggs. Wow, was that really so hard? To be fair, she’s hardly one to talk. It was hardly a word she was used to saying in life, unless it was something along the lines of ‘Oh I’m sorry you can’t handle how hot I am’ or ‘Sorry...not sorry, psyche!’.

Michael puts down his knife; “I don’t think of you...Of any of you guys as cockroaches, not really. Humans have always astounded me with how...resilient you guys are. You’re like rubber, everything that hits you just bounces off...I’m sure there’s some kinda great intellectual saying with that analogy...” He waves his hands; “Anyway...Truth is, I’m never been good with handling anyone being better than me...It took me two hundred years of being an apprentice until I got my own neighbourhood. Do you know that’s the longest any demon was in training for? Most fly solo after the first fifty years or so! And even before that, no matter how good I thought I was at torturing, there was always another demon wo was better and getting more praise...I was never strong enough to compete so I would take it out on...” His jaw clenches with shame.

Eleanor swallows the last of her food. She keeps watching, not saying a word, letting him get out everything he’s been clearly rehearsing in his head as he cooked.

“Having someone be better at my old job was one thing...But when there’s someone better at being what I truly have always wanted to be...and never will. Someone who also gets to spend more time with the woman I love...Who knows how to be a better...person,” Michael reaches to sip his own coffee; “The truth is...I’m the one who feels like an insect between the two of you. I feel...scared...” he clears his throat; “Scared that I’ll always fall short of the rest of you...I don’t have anything that compares to your strength or Chidi’s wisdom. Fork, I don’t have Tahani’s confidence...even Jason seems to understand some lessons more than me, with those inane stories he tells which always seem to somehow be on point!”

It’s true, every nonsensical ramble about the DJ’s life seemed to neatly tie in to some ethical thought experiment. He had a talent for it. That and firing spit balls around the chalkboard.

Michael manages a smile, his cheeks turning pink to match his shirt; “You’re not small and gross to me. You’re...magnificent. And gigantic. Like...mammoths.”

Eleanor snorts.

“That the best you can do?”

“Oh c’mon!” Michael scoffs; “Mammoths are awesome! They....Oh, I forgot, you haven’t seen one. Would you like to? I can get Janet to-.”

“No, no....Well, maybe later, I’m sure Jason would love to ride one, but...” She sighs and slides off her stall.

It’s impossible for her to resist those puppy dog eyes anymore. She moves around the island and shifts her butt onto his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. He blinks, stunned, as she moves in close. One of her hands unhooks to run her fingers across his soft, white hair, smiling as her nose touches his. Michael dares to put his hands on her middle, holding her tight and secure.

She presses her lips to his, lightly at first, before cupping his jaw and moving her tongue to massage her demon boyfriend’s, sharing the taste of bacon between them. It’s been over a week since they’ve had a chance to hold each other and kiss, properly, like this. Having to hold off on the good stuff out of keeping to her newfound principles and to teach him a lesson was not easy.

But totally worth it.

Eleanor hums as she pulls back, holding onto his shoulders; “Apology accepted. And as for that whole, ‘having nothing that compares to us’ schtick...You know that’s bullshirt, right?”

Michael looks puzzled. What a dingus. Eleanor touches his face, thumb stroking across his cheekbone.

“You care, dude. That’s your virtue. It’s why I’m so in love with you, even when you drive me crazy. None of us taught you that...It was right there, locked away inside of you, but you brought it out and you cared for me when I needed to....And you kept on doing it, even when you could’ve stopped...You tried to sacrifice yourself to save me and my friends....You keep putting your neck on the line for us...Don’t ever think that’s worthless, okay? We’re all super grateful to have the most caring, if a little immature and arrogant, demon on our team.”

There’s a wetness growing on his blue eyes, making them shine behind his glasses. She should really add ‘sappy’ to that list. Eleanor kisses his cheek as one tear leaks.

“Maybe that’s why you sucked at torturing. You only went so far to prove your worth. Your heart was never really in it?” She wonders.

He shrugs; “Possibly...Mostly because I don’t have a heart.”

She slaps his chest, lightly; “Y’know what I mean. Do I have to make you one like you’re the forking Tin Man just so you get the point?”

“...Yeah, okay.” He seems excited to have another trinket for his collection.

“Well, I ain’t crafting shirt that’s more complex than another paperclip bracelet, so ask Janet for one.” Eleanor smiles, leaning in to hug him tight around the neck. He squeezes her back, no doubt feeling the same relief as she had, to be back in each others arms without a worry for the weekend.

He hesitates before asking the next question.

“Am I allowed back in the bed tonight?” He says, sheepishly.

“Well....I suppose it will save me the walk if I have another bad dream.” She slips off of his lap; “...Only on one condition of course. You apologise to Chidi.”

His face falls, like a little kid who just had his candy snatched away.

“What, today? He’s not even here! How am I gonna...Can’t I just repeat what I said to you to him?”

“No, that’s cheating.” Her voice turns stern, ‘tutor’ mode activated; “You gotta think of a way to say sorry to him in a way he’d appreciate.”

Michael sighs and taps his fingers on the surface.

“I...I suppose I could...write him an essay on Consequentialism, drawling parallels it to this whole situation?” He suggests, looking to her for the go ahead.

“That’s....actually brilliant. He’d love that! Go for it.” Why are the two men she’s closest to in this afterlife the biggest dorks?

And, worse, she’s pretty much one herself now.

Michael grins, perking up from her approval; “Oh, great! I’ll get right on it and...Then what, do you want me to go back and read it to him?”

“No, just say it to Janet and she can repeat it to him back at my house.” Eleanor waves off; “...But you gotta have her disguise herself as Chidi while you’re reading it, so it feels like you’re saying it to him.”

“That’s gonna be disturbing as well as awkward.” He shifts, frowning.

Eleanor kisses his head before whispering; “That’s consequences, baby. Now get to writing. I’mma gonna go ask speedboating with Janet on those waves until you’re done. Then we can have the couples getaway this is supposed to be.”

As he gets up to put the dishes in the sink, she makes sure to give his butt a good slap, just to add in that incentive. She adores the startled, giddy look on his face that it always leaves him with. Damn it’s tough to stay mad at someone so cute.

After changing out of her PJs and into her bathing suit, sunglasses resting on her head, she goes to head out the patio doors.

“Hey, babe...” Michael stops her, having finished washing up. She turns to see his smile; “...Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Chidi’s gotta accept your apology so don’t half-ash it.”

“I wasn’t just saying thanks for that...” He stares at her, adoringly; “....I mean for everything, Eleanor. Thank you.”

She tilts her head to the side. Then a smile.

A quick skip towards him, leaning up on her toes, hands on his shoulders to reach that mouth of his again. Fork, it’s more effort to reach him when he’s upright. She gives him another kiss, a little motivation, something to remind him of what he misses out on when acting like a deck.

“You’re very welcome...Now make your hot girlfriend proud by doing your homework.” She smirks, one hand stroking down his chest; “Then come fork me into the sand, ‘cause I’m horny as Here - and if you don’t, I’m gonna get Janet to make me a clone of Jason Statham to spend this weekend with.”

If that doesn’t force the dumb demon to get his ash into gear then nothing will.

#idk if this turned out like i intended this morning #kinda forgot throughout work #but wanted to finish it #hellstrop fanfic #established relationship #npl au #fluff

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thatfanficstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Impossible - 5

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: Nope

A/N: It’s Eric day! Sorry it was just a little delayed.

***

By the time you pulled into the parking lot at Fangtasia, the lack of sleep was catching up with you. A glance at the time showed you still had almost two hours until sundown. Hopping out of your truck, you made a beeline for the door. You tried the handle just for the hell of it and found it unlocked. You let yourself in and frowned at the blonde that appeared from a back room.

“Who are you? You can’t just come in here.” The shrill edge to her voice made you wince.

Lovely. “Actually, I can because you left the door unlocked. Stupid.”

Her wide eyes stayed glued to you as she hustled past you to flip the lock on the door. “You need to leave.”

“Not here to cause any trouble. I just need somewhere to crash until Eric shows up. The couch I saw the other night should do nicely.” You stepped toward the room you’d spoken to Pam in. It had all appearances of being Eric’s office which meant the sofa would be long and comfortable.

The woman stepped in front of you and gestured toward the door. “Get out or I’m calling the cops.”

You laughed. “Eric would skin you if you called the cops to come to his club.”

She huffed and stomped a foot. “Fine then. I’ll call the vampire cops.”

You blinked at her. “Jesus, lady. How many times have you been glamoured exactly?”

“What?”

You gripped her arms and moved her to the side. “I am going to go sleep in Eric’s office. When he gets here you can tell him I overpowered you. Keep it down until then, would you? I’m exhausted.”

***

You heard Eric before you saw him. You’d been dozing on and off with an arm draped across your eyes.

“There’s some girl in your office. She wouldn’t leave,” the blonde you’d encountered earlier said loudly, probably the moment he walked in the door.

“And why did you not make her leave?” Eric sounded bored and you had the feeling he’d had similar conversations with the woman before.

“She overpowered me.”

Footsteps approached the door and you stayed just as you were. Maybe everyone would leave you be and you could get a little more sleep. Unlikely but possible.

The door opened and you felt Eric’s gaze run over you like a physical thing. “I’ll take care of it, Ginger. Just make sure we’re ready to open.”

He stepped in and shut the door being surprisingly quiet. Especially since he could tell you were awake by your breathing and heartrate. There was no way you were getting more sleep with him in the room. Not until you were certain he wouldn’t use the opportunity for retaliation at any rate. “You know, if you glamour that girl any more she’s going to start drooling.” You stayed as you were, unwilling to move just yet.

Eric huffed a laugh. “She’s a very loyal employee.”

“Mmhmm. Whatever you say, Eric.”

There was a beat of silence. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“You told me to be.” Anyone else you would have ignored and forgotten about considering everything that happened, but not Eric.

“That was before I received your phone call last night. And since when do you do as I ask?” There was a teasing tone in his voice and your heart beat faster.

This was your Eric. The Eric that you’d fallen in love with and that had fallen in love with you. “Why aren’t you being an asshole?” Your voice sounded more timid than you would have liked but there was nothing to be done for it now.

“I spoke with Godric.”

You lifted your arm to glance at him then put it back. Too much light. “I take it he confirmed what I told you.”

“Of course. I am still bothered you kept the truth from me, but I am willing to set that aside.”

You took that as your cue to sit up. If you were going to have this conversation with Eric, you wanted to do it while you looked him in the eye. You raked your hands through your hair though you doubted that you had mussed it much during your short nap. “How generous of you to be willing to set aside the fact I didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. Why are you always so…” You gestured at him. “You?” You supposed there were better ways to interact with the vampire but he always seemed to say exactly the wrong thing where you were concerned. If you weren’t so certain it frustrated him just as much as it did you, you would accuse him of doing it on purpose.

Instead of responding to your question, he went very still and his features grew tight. He was furious and you had no idea what you had done to warrant that look. Surely your smart mouth hadn’t irritated him that much. He reached out and grasped your chin to turn your head to the side. He traced his fingers over the left side of your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. “What happened?”

You frowned. “What?”

“You’re bruised. When I spoke with you last night you told me that you were fine. So, when did this happen and who did it?”

You jerked your hand up and covered your cheek where Jason had hit you. You’d grown accustomed to the dull throb and had mostly forgotten about it. Damn it. At least it wasn’t you Eric was angry with for a change. “It’s not a big deal. Emotions were running high and things got a little out of control is all. I handled it.”

“All of that is very interesting but not what I asked. Who. Did. It?” His voice was no louder but his tone was sharper. He moved to sit beside you on the couch so he no longer towered over you.

You sighed as you turned to face him fully. “And what are you going to do if I tell you, Northman?”

“I simply wish to have a discussion with him about touching that which doesn’t belong to him,” he said as if he was always perfectly reasonable and level headed and you shouldn’t have presumed he would be otherwise.

“Pretty sure he got the message when I bounced him off the side of his truck.”

The corner of his lips kicked up. “You always were rather capable. It was one of the many things I always admired about you.” He shifted his body to sit properly and draped his arms along the back of the couch. “So, what happened last night?”

You sighed and slumped in your seat suddenly feeling exhausted. “Sookie’s grandmother was murdered. It looks like it was the same person killing everyone else in town, which is good I guess because Bon Temps is too small to support two serial killers.” You ran a hand down your face. “It was brutal, Eric. She was a good soul. She deserved better.”

He hummed and you weren’t certain if it was just an acknowledgement or if it was an attempt at comfort. “What do you know about this killer?”

You shrugged. “Not much. He seems to be targeting fang bangers. Local cops want to blame Bill just because he’s a vampire. So they’re about as competent as you’d imagine.”

“What about the person that hit you? They obviously have control issues.”

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “I’m not going to slip up and accidentally say his name, Eric. Nice try though.”

He lifted a brow and gave a small tilt to his head as if to say he tried. Before he could say anything, the door opened drawing your attention. Pam stepped inside and gave a slow, sultry smile when she caught sight of you. “Well, hello there.”

Eric sighed. “Pam. What do you need?”

“Longshadow says there’s an issue with the liquor distributor. You need to deal with it.”

“And you cannot?”

She shrugged one shoulder.

“Very well,” Eric said as he stood. “Y/N, I will return shortly.”

You got to your feet as well. “Actually, do you have somewhere I can change? My clothes are in the truck.” You’d neglected to bring them inside mainly because you weren’t certain you’d be sticking around. But you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to spend time with this Eric. You’d missed him.

He grinned. “It would be my pleasure to have you naked in my office. Feel free to change here.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “There’s a room down the hall for the dancers. Even has a shower if you’re so inclined.”

“Thanks, Pam.” You patted Eric’s shoulder as you passed by him. “Nice try, Northman.”

***

By the time you had a conversation with Pam, took a shower, and got yourself ready, Eric was already holding court. You ran your hands over the length of your favorite little black dress making sure everything was in place before stepping out of the office. Your gaze immediately found Eric on his makeshift throne. His attention was on the man beside him as they had a quiet conversation and you took the opportunity to run your eyes over him.

He’d slipped a jacket over his black tank which made him look more professional. Regardless of what he was wearing, he looked every inch the Viking king he should have been. As if he felt your eyes on him, his head turned and his eyes locked on yours. He silenced the man beside him with a wave of his hand and leaned toward you. He didn’t even attempt to hide his blatant admiration and as his smile widened, you saw a hint of fang in it.

He beckoned you forward and you wove through the crowd until you stood in front of him. “You summoned me?”

His tongue darted out to lick his lips then ran over his teeth as his gaze flicked over you once more. “You look delicious.”

You shook your head though you couldn’t help a little smile. That always was his favorite compliment. “Thank you.”

He leaned back in his seat. “Join us, Y/N. Stewart here was just telling me about all my failures as a sheriff.”

You stepped up on the stage as the other man protested Eric’s words. Before you could take the chair to his other side, Eric softly grasped your wrist and tugged you down onto his lap. You immediately moved to stand and his hand settled on your waist, holding you in place. He traced his nose along the column of your throat as he moved his mouth to your ear. “Stay.” His lips brushed your skin as he spoke and a shiver ran through you at the intimacy.

It had been a long time since you’d found yourself in this position and as much as you wished to simply enjoy it, there was too much that needed to be said between the two of you. Before you could move, Eric spoke again. “Please.”

You relaxed against him and supposed that answer enough. You turned your attention to the other man who was watching the two of you with far too much interest. “Now, what was it you were saying, Stewart was it?”

Eric tightened his hold slightly before turning his attention to the other man as well. “Yes, Stewart. Continue.”

“Well, as I was saying, there are matters that really should be addressed. The Authority does not take kindly to lax enforcement in their regions. I’m afraid they will be most disappointed when I file my report.” You tilted your head and looked the man over. He wore a cheap suit and straightened his tie nervously as he avoided meeting either of your gazes. “Of course, I could be persuaded to ignore some of the more grievous failings.”

“What do you think, Y/N?” Eric asked you. “Should we give Stewart here what he deserves for such an offer?”

You rested your head against his shoulder. “Oh, certainly. You know it’s funny that I was just speaking to my father about this area and he happened to mention that the sheriff runs a tight ship. One of the few areas he didn’t have to worry about I believe he said. The irony, huh?”

Eric grinned. “Indeed.” He looked at Pam and nodded his head once. A moment later two large vampires were on stage grabbing the man.

“Wait!” he protested. “I thought we’d reached an understanding.”

“We have.” Eric waved his hand and the protesting man was led away by the two thugs that were doing a remarkable job of appearing they were just taking him for a walk.

Eric’s fingers pressed into your hip and you lifted your head back to look at him. “We need to have a conversation about this.” You gestured between the two of you.

He hummed in agreement as he pushed your head back to rest on his shoulder. Later. You could talk about it later.

#Eric Northman x reader #Eric Northman fanfiction #True Blood Fanfiction #Eric Northman x you #series #impossible

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astyle-alex · 4 years ago

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[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

I’m posting an older fanfic to kick off my attempt to be more involved with the Tumblr Fandom community!

Museum Mishap | Chapter 6/6

Fandom: the DC Universe, Batman & co. Pairings: Jay x Tim Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

Middle-School Tim Drake is on a field trip to the Science Museum, but with a WE exhibition of top-secret new technologies being staged in the basement, Tim separates from his classmates and breaks into the staff-only areas by using the skills he's developed over years of stalking Batman and Robin.

Current-Robin Jason Todd catches him in the act, but he's not there to confront Tim for trespassing or truancy - he's there because there's a rumor on the street that Tim Drake knows Batman's real name. And the rumor's gaining ground, quick, drawing in the wrong kind of attention.

When a Drug-Lord decides to take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap the little genius, Jason jumps into the crossfire. It all goes downhill from there. Fast.

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

|| Read on Ao3 | Read on FF.net | Follow my updates on Patreon ||

Museum Mishap Chapter 6: Safe

It’s five weeks after Jason disobeyed Batman’s orders to drop the idea of investigating the rumor that a random rich kid knew the vigilantes’ secret identities.

Five weeks since Jason let himself be kidnapped by the upstart drug lord Lorenzo Sabini in an attempt to protect the kid who was Sabini’s real target – the kid rumored to know impossible things about Batman and Robin.

Five weeks since Jason’s leg was broken – in the line of a duty he never should’ve been asked to shoulder, never should’ve been allowed to feel bound to carry – and Bruce Wayne rediscovered the impossible duality of being responsible for the life of a child that he’d somehow managed to forget. That had faded from his mind when Dick had grown up enough to go off on his own – without his Guardian having any legal say in stopping him.

Batman has been able to bury the raging concern, the guilt he bears for introducing Jason to such a dangerous lifestyle – for not doing more to discourage his interest. Batman is able to silence the voice that says Jason acted honorably, if stupidly, by insisting that Robin needs to do better, to be better, so that he can keep the boy inside the costume safer.

But Bruce is having trouble letting Jason heal.

‘Suffocating’ Jason calls his attentions, merely ‘stupid codling he doesn’t need’.

Jason submitted to three weeks of strictly bedrest – a godsend if Bruce could ever believe in such things. He’d offered only mild resistance to being benched for six weeks – to rigorous and thorough PT, and light, careful exercise and a slow return to the training regimen that kept shaping Robin’s growing body into something more heroic than the average simple human.

But there was no point in even trying to bring up the idea of retiring Jason’s pixie boots for good – of trying to convince him to stand down from the Vigilante fight.

Bruce knows that, but he still tries it – once, in a terse conversation that gets shut down before he even makes it to the first point of reasoning – and then he swallows the rest of the worry and buries it in silence alongside his fury at Jason’s constant reckless disregard for his own safety. Bruce knows he can’t stop Jason, can’t force him out of the cape, so Batman vows to train him harder, push him further, make him stronger, make him faster, more durable, more prepared – keep him safer.

It’s a compromise.

And it has to be enough.

Because Jason is already back on his feet.

He broke his own way out of the cast almost a week ago – refused to apologize or sit for another casting – and though Alfred’s managed to somehow force him into a sturdy brace, guilted him into maintaining his use of the crutches… Jason’s been back inside the Cave twice already while Batman has been out – at least twice.

The Cave’s security cameras have caught him on the Salmon Ladder the last two nights in a row – going through two sets his first night back, and four the next. So that was two nights, at least, that security footage showed Jason working out inside the Cave, but it was possible there were nights he wasn’t tagged on the Cave’s security footage. Dick had certainly learned to sneak down without being caught on camera. Bruce doubted that Dick would share his secrets with Jason – but it was not beyond possibility.

Bruce kept meaning to add more cameras, to ensure that every inch of the cave was covered by an unblinking eye equipped with filters in Starlight and infrared, but that project kept getting sidelined somehow. He kept getting distracted.

Because his kids kept getting hurt.

But it’s been five weeks since Jason got hurt.

He’s getting better, and his bullheaded determination is just the same as it was before the injury – the stubborn streak still apparent, now even more so if anything had changed.

But there’s something else about Jason that’s different.

Bruce almost can’t see it – almost convinces himself it’s not happening, because he’s so damn hopeful that it is happening that his chest constricts with this strange kind of joy or pride or something and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

Because Dick and Jason are talking.

Not fighting, talking.

Alfred’s caught them playing video games. Together.

They were supposed to be doing homework – Jason’s been back at school for three weeks and while Dick’s purposefully selected freshman college classes don’t require constant attendance, they do give assignments that need to be turned in online – but still…

Dick and Jason are getting along.

His adopted sons are becoming brothers.

Bruce notices.

And wants it to be real so badly that it hurts.

Batman notices, too.

But Batman notices other things, as well.

Batman notices how the Wayne Boys have befriended the kid Jason got himself kidnapped alongside.

Batman notices how Nightwing volunteers to swing off on his own every night for a cursory once over of deterrence through Coventry and around the area in the Upper West Side where Sabini’s gang and the rumors they’d acted on had run amok – had being the operative word, seeing as how the entire area had been scared so straight there hasn’t even been a purse snatching in over a month.

Batman notices how quiet the supposed-civilian kid at the center of those rumors is when he’s home alone – which is often – how the only thing he talks about out loud, in range of Batman’s listening devices, is how much he admires the caped crusaders and how much he wants for their ramshackle team to work together as brothers and sisters in arms – to work through their issues and be a kind of family.

Batman notices.

And he watches.

And he’s concerned by what he sees.

So tonight, as Nightwing swings off towards Coventry – with a big smile and a wholly unnecessary flip – Batman decides to investigate the kid firsthand.

The civilian’s name is Timothy Jackson Drake and he is twelve years old, enrolled as a sixth grader at Gotham Preparatory Academy Primary Campus. His parents are Jack and Janet Drake, famed globe-trotting researchers and archeologists, and the second generation of Drakes to head up Drake Industries – a leading Wayne Enterprises competitor. The Drakes reside in the mansion that neighbors the Wayne Estate – another statement of how DI both complements and competes with WE.

Timothy Drake seems mostly unremarkable.

He’s skipped two grades, and his teachers say he’s got a remarkable mind, but he lacks significant social skills and spends most of his time alone – tinkering with some project or other. He’s never demonstrated a particular drive to be anything when he grows up, but he’s applied to the Wayne Tech summer camps three years in a row – despite being under the age requirement – and his bedroom is littered with DI equipment and half-finished robots he’s clearly engineered himself in the hours and hours he spends unsupervised.

Lucius Fox likes him.

In the way that some people like puppies.

Bruce isn’t even entirely sure how Lucius Fox discovered the Drake kid, but it’s in his files in the Batcomputer – Fox has his name on a recruitment list, circled in red sharpie with a smiley face next to it.

So, Timothy Drake is a smart kid.

But he’s just a kid.

According to all of Batman’s information, Timothy Drake is just a kid.

A civilian who happened to have a bad stroke of luck and got his name wrapped up in a rumor founded on nothing more than a junkie’s word and some evidence that the kid in question was a vigilante fan.

Is still a fan, somehow, despite the circumstance that admiration landed him in.

Timothy Jackson Drake seems like nothing more than a dedicated fan – a child, not a threat. But the evidence is so peculiar – there are ridiculously strong indications that the rumor carried truth, and yet… the notion that the child knows nothing is so convincing that Dick and Jason agree on it… which in and of itself makes the evidence seem suspect…

Thus, Batman is set on investigating the matter further for himself.

A twelve year old civilian would be in bed at this time of night, tucked safely into the labyrinth of the Drake Mansion.

So as Nightwing peals away to the west, Batman plots a course northward.

He’s planned this carefully. His choice of direction does not immediately alert Nightwing to his intentions. He’s been rotating where he patrols after splitting off from Nightwing, moving counterclockwise by a dozen blocks every few days. Now he’s pointed right towards the Robbinsville area, where he’s stashed one of his getaway vehicles – a rather bland, all-black motorcycle that’s nothing special, but is quick and maneuverable enough to get him to the Drake Estate and back before Nightwing realizes he’s deviated.

He even has Batgirl prepped to back Nightwing up if something happens – Barbara is visiting her father this weekend and doing research for her own case in Chinatown. She might not be actively patrolling, but Batman had been sure to give her warning of his activities.

He trusts her discretion, and he knows she would be as worried as him about Nightwing's probable – and possibly willful – oversight of the threat posed by Drake. Batman does not want to think Nightwing would be so foolish as to dismiss a threat simply because it doesn't seem actively threatening – or worse, because he wanted to curry favor with his adoptive brother – But it’s always better to be safe.

So, Batman is tracking north – from slightly further east than he’d originally planned, drawn off course by what seemed to be a mugging, but quickly resolved as Batman ID'd a drunk man resisting as his friend took away his keys – and he’s determined to get to the bottom of Drake’s capabilities and influence.

He’s about to swing down to the last tall building before the midrises and family homes of Robbinsville take over Gotham’s footprint when he spies a figure huddled on the rooftop.

Had Batman been approaching from his planned route, he wouldn’t have seen the figure until he touched down on the roof – within easy knife throwing distance of the stranger, with no chance to react if an attack was imminent.

Carefully, Batman swings around to the far side of the building and climbs silently up to roof level after landing on a balcony. He creeps close enough to ascertain that the would-be assailant is small – even with a massive jacket attempting to keep out the late January chill, the figure is miniscule… a child.

Concern leaps, unbidden, into his chest as he wonders what could possibly bring a child onto a freezing cold rooftop in the middle of the night. The apartment building is not the lowest rent residence in the region, but it has its fair share of alcoholics and abusers. It would not be unheard of for a child to sneak away for what respite they can get and the Bat knows that this situation takes precedence to his Drake investigation.

Batman is just about to announce his presence – From far enough away to hopefully prevent the kid from falling off the roof in fright, though he has his grapple gun ready just in case – when the kid shifts.

An eerie blue glow lights up the crouching figure’s face as his phone flares briefly to life.

It's Timothy Jackson Drake.

Batman frowns, continues to silently observe.

Drake curls more tightly around his knees. He huffs – breath turning instantly to steam that catches in the city's light – And mutters, “He should be here by now... There’s no sirens, no breakouts, nothing to keep him away… unless he’s not coming this way tonight… but he should be… he’s been moving north… but maybe I miss-counted the interval, or maybe I’m too far north… but this is the best vantage to check on Robinsv-”

His mumbled monologue – which Batman is certain he is not intentionally speaking aloud – is interrupted by a sneeze.

“Bless you,” Batman says, stepping from the darkest shadows.

“Thanks,” Tim returns.

A beat passes, and then Tim whirls around with a string of oddly pronounced Chinese curses spilling from his tongue.

“Batman,” Tim breathes, awestruck and a little bit fearful.

“Timothy,” Batman returns, “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”

It’s true, the kid had just mumbled as much. There was no one else he could possibly be waiting for here, not with the details he’d murmured about having tracked to find him.

“Um, kinda,” the kid admits.

He’s not as surprised by Batman’s recognition of him – of the Bat using his name directly – as Batman would’ve thought. He is nervous though, antsy. Batman scans him for weapons, but nothing notable shows up in any of his cowl’s filters and the coat is too cumbersome for any shapes beneath it to be positively identified.

Tim does have something in his hands, though – something he’s clutched close to his chest. Bare fingers glow ghostly in the night, tremble in the freezing air.

It’s not a weapon that he’s holding, or a camera – like might be expected and acceptable from a fan. It’s a set of note cards. Note. Cards. Like he’s practicing for a speech.

On an ice cold Gotham rooftop in the middle of the night.

Bruce Wayne is thrown by that. Far enough to make Batman pause.

Batman regards the kid standing before him in the darkness.

Timothy Drake stares back.

“Did you have a reason?” Batman asks eventually.

“Huh?”

“To be looking for me, did you have a reason?”

Timothy looks down at his hands, at the half-crushed note cards he’s holding. “Yeah,” he says slowly, quiet with the kind of resignation Batman knows is guilt.

“Well?” Batman prompts when Timothy offers nothing more.

The kid flinches, and Batman fights a wince of his own.

The obvious reasons Nightwing has for underestimating this kid assert themselves plainly. He is a child, small for his age and easily frightened. There seems no reason to suspect him of anything – except that he was waiting on a rooftop for Batman, intentionally. A rooftop even Batman didn’t know he would be visiting until about a week ago.

“I’m worried about Robin,” Timothy admits. “And Nightwing, and Batgirl, for that matter, but mostly Robin.”

“Why?”

Another flinch. Bruce Wayne consciously tries to reel back the Batman ‘grr factor’, as Dick has termed it. And yet… Timothy clearly knows more than he should. Perhaps the gravel and growl is worth it to extract that information.

“Because they need you to listen to them – that’s why you fought with Nightwing to begin with, right? You, um, you passed his mantle on without letting him explain why he didn’t want you to?” Tim’s actively struggling to make eye-contact.

Batman doesn’t verbalize a response.

He’s evaluating how this kid could possibly know what he does without knowing the names beneath the masks – it’s possible, he supposes, but extremely unlikely.

“I get why you didn’t, he was still a kid and not very good at making his important points clear, but when he went to California, he didn’t want you to let him go, he wanted you to bring him home,” Timothy rambles, losing his battle for eye-contact.

Batman scowls.

Timothy swallows dryly. Consults his notes.

“They need you to help them,” Timothy says.

Batman’s scowl deepens, and he must make some sound because Timothy doesn’t just flinch this time, he yelps and curls into himself. His cards get squeezed so tightly they pop out of his hands and scatter across the rooftop. Timothy dives after them, but the roof is wet with the afternoon's snow shower and the antifreeze that keeps it from becoming ice.

There is no recovering the careful presentation Timothy clearly had planned for this meeting. But Timothy isn’t willing to admit defeat immediately.

“Timothy Jackson Drake,” Batman says as the kid in question scrambles with his wet paper, frowning at the smudged and ruined ink like he should have been able to plan for that – like he should’ve had a contingency.

At Batman's voice saying his full name, Timothy freezes and stares up at him like a frightened deer.

“Tell me how and why you have come to know so much about the relationships between the Gotham masks.”

“That’s not important,” Timothy says. Quick, dismissive, like the point truly doesn’t matter in his world-view, or to his understanding of his place in it.

“It’s not?”

“No. What’s important is that you’re not letting them do their jobs,” Timothy accuses.

And then he promptly freezes and stares up at Batman like he just then has realized not only what he said, but how – how direct and confrontational it was.

“They don’t have jobs,” Batman replies, level and calm. “They are children.”

“Not when they're wearing masks,” Timothy snaps back immediately. “When the masks are on, they’re vigilantes. Nothing else.”

Batman narrows his eyes at Timothy's temerity.

And fights himself to keep from agreeing with Timothy’s point. But his disagreement doesn’t make it any less true. No matter how much he wants to remember that under the masks the heroes who have joined his crusade in Gotham are children, he can’t ignore the truth of Timothy Drake's words: when the masks are on, they’re not children – They can’t be.

Batman cannot ignore that – can’t pretend it away.

But he can insist on one smaller truth. “They do not have jobs.”

Timothy glared – actually glared at Batman in full cape and cowl and scowl – and said firmly, “Their job is to make sure you remember why is it that you do yours.”

Batman blinked behind the lenses of his cowl.

“That’s not how it works,” Batman defends. Weakly – he knows.

But he’s not entirely sure what to do with this child, this strangely mature tiny human with hope and sweetness and innocence – and uncomfortably valid points – lecturing him like Batman is the errant child here.

“You can’t possibly be that stupid,” Timothy says – a moment later looking wide-eyed and horrified by his words, yet still going on with speaking as if his mouth had detached itself from is brain and was running on a will of its own. “They care about what happens to you, which makes you care about it. They need you alive, and you – on some level, at least – recognize that need. It keeps you safer. And it makes you be a better person, in trying to set a good example for them to follow. And that’s important.”

Tim pulls more air into his lungs, enough for another leg of his tirade, and goes on, “Without Robin, Batman is too violent, too aggressive… like Green Arrow starting to gain ground in Star City; you’re too much like the criminals you hunt to make a genuine, lasting difference. Without Robin, you’re just scary. Robin tempers you; makes you an inspiration – makes people believe that you aren’t just hurting bad guys, but also protecting good ones.”

Tim manages to close his mouth and keep it shut after that – if only by the simple force of his clear mortification sealing off his words.

“Timothy.”

Terrified eyes peer up at Batman.

“What do you know about us capes? There was a reason Sabini had an interest in you and I’m not convinced it was just a junkie’s word and evidence that you’re a fan,” Batman lays out simply – calmly, regaining control of this discussion.

“I know that you’re necessary,” Tim replies in a squeak.

Eyes narrow behind the lenses of the cowl.

Tim ducks his head, fully aware that he has not answered Batman’s question.

“I know that Gotham needs you,” Tim reiterates. “I don’t know who you are beneath the masks, and I don’t want to know. I just want to help you keep Gotham safe. Because I’m not a mask, I’m just a fan… but I can still help.”

Batman regards the young civilian carefully. He has Jason’s spirit and determination, Dick’s unyielding sweetness, and Barbara’s practical acceptance of humanity’s flaws.

“You don’t know our civilian identities?”

Tim shakes his head. “I don’t care about them.”

Batman does not believe him – does not believe that he doesn’t know, or that he doesn’t care. Timothy Drake knows more than enough to be dangerous.

Dick has always been a terrible judge of character – in some ways, he always sees the best in people, in their potential – so his support of Timothy Drake as a non-threat means little.

But Jason is the most astute observer of humanity Bruce has ever encountered – he can read a person’s entire psyche in a gesture, find their cracks and weaknesses and apply just the right leverage to break them. And he’s never thrown from thinking that a seemingly innocent person is capable of doing a great deal of damage – would never underestimate a threat like that.

Case in point: how he hadn’t let go of the potential threat Tim posed to begin with.

Jason had decided Tim was safe.

Batman decides to trust his Robin’s judgement; Bruce puts faith in his son.

Batman heaves a sigh.

“It’s time to go home, Timothy,” he says. “This is no place for a child to be, and you shouldn’t be out at this time of night.”

Timothy frowns.

“It’s my city, too,” he mumbles.

Batman takes no quarter and as soon as he gets a nod of permission – Jason’s taught him how to work with children who aren’t like Dick, with an insatiable desire for physical contact – Batman hoists Timothy up and settles him on his hip. Batman holds tight to the child and shoots his grapple gun to carry them down to street level. He sits Timothy on his motorcycle and speeds across the city to Drake’s own door.

There is no one home.

Concerning in a very different way.

Batman knew the Drakes were away. Bruce didn’t realize the implications of that beyond how Timothy was left unsupervised – hadn’t until right now.

“Do you want me to come in,” Batman asks, awkward and uncertain of whether it would help at all to walk the kid to his bedroom. Batman should not linger – should not even consider the idea of tucking this neglected child into bed – but Bruce cannot quite bear to drag himself away just yet. He needs to know that Timothy is safe.

Timothy is staring at him like he’s shown up as Batman to a career day at school.

“Why?”

“No one’s home.”

“No one’s ever home,” Timothy replied blankly, adding. “I don’t need a real babysitter, let alone Batman. But Nightwing probably needs backup.”

Batman nodded. Accepted that he needed to push the Bruce in him down until they finished with the night’s patrol.

Tomorrow he could look into Timothy Drake’s circumstances.

“Be safe, Timothy,” Batman fare-wells. “Stay off the streets, and be careful, or this will not be our last conversation.

“You be safe, too,” Timothy replies. “Or I’ll just have to find you again.”

Batman almost chuckles. He waits until Timothy locks the door behind him, and then he takes his motorcycle back to where he’d stashed it across the bridge from Robbinsville.

He meets up with Nightwing and finishes patrol.

If he’s more reticent than usual Nightwing doesn’t comment.

The teenager is still wearing the blinding goofy smile of his, broader now after a successful sweep of Coventry – no new rumors of Tim Drake. And he’d saved a cat from where it had gotten stuck on a gargoyle after it had slipped out of its apartment and ventured off an inopportune ledge beside the balcony.

And because that’s the kind of hero Dick is, he chatters on incessantly about the cat and how it wailed and scratched him at first and yowled as he swung around the building, but then it purred and refused to let him go when it realized he’d brought it home.

Beneath the cowl, Batman almost smiles.

When he and Nightwing make it back to the Cave, Jason is not down there – the only evidence that anyone has been down there since he and Nightwing left is the snack left out for them by Alfred. Jason is in bed, asleep and dead to the world when Bruce slips in to check.

Jason is safe.

And Dick is safe.

And Alfred and Barbara are safe.

His family. Safe.

And Tim is… safe enough for the moment.

Tonight, Bruce will sleep.

Tomorrow he will reevaluate the child and his circumstances.

But tonight, Bruce Wayne basks in the truth that has a Family.

And his family is home, and safe.

It’s a foreign feeling.

But a good one.

|| Read on Ao3 | Read on FF.net | Follow my updates on Patreon ||

#BatFam #Batman #Batman & Robin #dcmultiverse #dcu #Jay x Tim #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x Tim Drake #Tim Drake #Bruce Wayne

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ofeva · 4 years ago

Photo

⌠ REINA HARDESTY, 21, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, EVANGELINE ASTOR! according to their records, they’re a THIRD year, specializing in MEDICAL TRAINING + COVERT OPERATIONS; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (lace bralettes under pressed collared shirts, the sound of mozart’s piano sonata no. 11 echoing from another room, reading at candlelight with a bottle of merlot, holding your breath underwater until your lungs burst). when it’s the (taurus)’s birthday on 5/12/99, they always request their EGG CUSTARD TART from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati, 23, she/her, est ⍀ @gallagherintro

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

INSPIRATION.

camille preaker – sharp objects

ophelia – hamlet

marla singer – fight club

mia wallace – pulp fiction

celeste wright – big little lies

hester argyll – ordeal by innocence

melisandre – game of thrones

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR BIO.

tbh i wrote these bullets and the bio is better if you have time for it. but if not:

so, james and elizabeth weren’t supposed to have children...they tried and they just couldn’t do it ! at an older age, they wound up adopting evangeline, their heir and saving grace. eva doesn’t know anything about her birth parents, she was adopted as a baby.

james and elizabeth were very strict about eva’s upbringing and she was a lonely child. she didn’t understand why they didn’t want her playing with other children, why they got so upset when she did typical child things like coming home covered in dirt and climbing trees.

she was a very imaginative child and therefore made up her own friends, playing in the woods as she pictures elves, fairies, and goblins, telling herself stories and creating her own adventures. it helped ease the loneliness, but she was always a little...strange. the other children called her names. she never really outgrew it.

when eva stumbles home one night with bloody knees, patched up by the nanny, she can hear her parents whisper: "maybe this was a mistake. we weren't ready."

eva has a wild imagination and likes to talk about how her room is haunted sometimes, always making up stories about ghosts and things she hears in the woods. the sort of thing a normal parent would dismiss, but her mother seems visibly nervous.

on eva’s twelfth birthday, it all makes sense: eva is not their first child. james and elizabeth managed to have one child before her, named isabella. she was sickly from the day she was born, and now eva understands why your james and elizabeth are so concerned about cleanliness, why she can't go play with the other kids. isabella never turned twelve. eva’s been walking the halls of the astor estate like the ghost of a girl she never knew existed, she never had a fucking chance.

she goes to school in the city and she attempts to persevere, to be the daughter that james and elizabeth want. her grades are immaculate, she shows strokes of genius and she devours books faster than most people can get through a chapter. james and elizabeth think it might be easier if they send eva to prep school, away from their home. they say that she’s just too smart, but evangeline knows the truth deep down ; they don’t want her there.

she goes to a rich, private school in new england and easily sticks out like a sore thumb. so, she learns to assimilate, emulating characters from her favorite stories, trying to bend herself into someone else that people might like. eva has a hard time being herself.

assimilation, covert operations, these are not the only skills she gains as she tries to fit in with your peers. a study she does for her science project about the effects of teenage vaping is published in an academic journal. it's funny because eva loves nicotine herself. she knows better than anyone what that shit does to her lungs, but she’s too in love with the aesthetic tbh. she just doesn’t care.

welcome to the breaking point ! as it’s been mentioned, eva doesn’t really fit in with the cool crowd and high schoolers can be vicious. there’s a group of mean girls she often clashes with. eva likes to sneak out at night with a bottle of merlot and a flashlight and read, but one night some girls follow her. they start pushing her around and she pushes back just a little too hard, and lucy prescott tumbles down the side of a hill.

oh, lucy prescott is fine.

she’s just a bitch about her broken leg and busted elbow and her dad is a big donor, so eva gets fucking expelled and loses her scholarship. no college is gonna accept her now. she doesn’t know how to tell her parents, fearful of being a disappointment.

in the airport, she’s given strange letter. apparently, her parents don’t know anything...someone’s covered the incident up and she’s been accepted into a college that she didn’t even apply for. a school for espionage with a straightforward track to mi6. eva’s parents are so proud, they start bragging about her...but it’s too little too late. the bitterness that's grown inside of her heart is there because they only care about her successes, and she knows they’d never support her in her failures and fuck ups. they don’t see her for who she really is and they don’t care.

she gets on pretty well in school, but it quickly becomes clear that she’s most interested in people. what makes them tick, what makes their heart beat, how the blood courses through their veins. so, she transfers to gallagher academy because it offers a medical training program that her spy school in london doesn’t. at least...that’s the story.

WARNING...ACCESSING TOP SECRET INFORMATION...

yeah, that spy school isn’t just any spy school. it’s fucking CALEDONIA. eva easily gets obsessed with things and her latest is the world of espionage. what’s special about caledonia? the students there have nothing to lose. caledonia is all eva has left, and it’s all that she knows to be loyal to.

mr. stewart noticed her when no one else did. he tells her that he's been watching her for a long time, that she’s so much more than her family's prowess or the expectations she could never live up to. it makes her feel valuable, worth something. he is the parent she’s always wanted.

she’s no longer competing against a ghost of a sister that no longer exists. no, her competition is tangible, real, and so much more annoying: his name is cole conner.

so, meet eva’s new obsession. as her years at caledonia progress together, he’s one step ahead of her at every turn. it’s true that she spends late nights studying, but it’s not just medical journals. it’s everything. it’s how to be the best at everything.

when cole is sent on the gallagher mission, eva is not even surprised. of course he would, he's the favorite. but months go by with no word, it almost seems like he's doing nothing at all, and rumors turn in the mill. in short: he sucks. so, mr. stewart asks eva to start in the fall and work alongside cole. she’ll be a transfer student, repeating a year to catch up on medical credits that her old school lacked, and she’ll also take on the second specialization of covert ops, to keep an eye on cole, of course.

PERSONALITY.

CREATIVE. eva is very much lost in her mind sometimes, but she’s always full of new ideas, new thoughts, and has an uncanny ability to keep herself occupied. she’s hardly ever bored and as much as she likes to read, she also likes to write, keeping notebooks full of random scribblings mostly, but the occasional poem or short story will come to fruition.

RESILIENT. she’s been through a lot and continues to take it. the home where she grew up could leave anyone battered down and discouraged, but every time someone else wins, eva gets back up and continues to fight. whether it’s against her parents, against the world, or against, well, cole, she’ll bite back at what stands in her way despite the fact that obstacles keep coming up over and over again. she does not give up.

INTELLIGENT. eva is just really smart! how else can you say it? she has a voracious appetite for learning, for getting her hands on as much of the world as she can, and she is genuinely clever and calculating, the the point where she hasn’t been able to fit in with her peers growing up. that’s why schools that specialize in teaching gifted people, like gallagher, are the best fit for her. she can find her people.

HEDONISTIC. however, the one thing about her is that she is not exactly disciplined, and it’s probably what sets her behind her rivals; she’s hopelessly self-indulgent, engaging in activities that make her happy over what she’s being told to do. that’s why she has a weakness for good wine, for staying up way too late, for reading an entire book in a day because she can’t hold back.

OBSESSIVE. eva is so prone to obsession! she can’t stop herself when she fixates on something and yes, this can be a strength when she is trying to learn or accomplish her goals, but it’s a bit much. she puts all of herself into everything and she can’t just casually like something by half – either she’s so bored by it or she is all in. – “i never really learned how to like something. i always let it consume me.”

IDEALISTIC. always unrealistically aiming for a perfection she can’t achieve, she holds herself and others to impossible standards. she does this in relationships too, which is probably why she finds herself falling in love with fictions at times, sometimes lacking the perception to separate her dreams and her realities. she’s a dangerous enemy but a powerful ally because of this. she doesn’t fear going after what she wants. i actually have no idea if she’s ever been in love or if she’s just emulating the idea of love that she reads about in literature.

HEADCANONS.

eva’s reasons for doing things: 1) spite. or 2) the aesthetic. eva is so fucking about the aesthetic, it’s literally why she smokes cigarettes or wears skirts on a windy day, she can’t stop herself. catch her in the forest, drinking a bottle of wine and reading her book by CANDLELIGHT when she could just sit inside by a lamp but no, she has to look fucking feral at all times.

does not really have a sleep schedule. she’ll just sleep when she’s tired, kind of just collapses when she feels like she should. time isn’t real, she likes the nighttime, sleeps whenever.

loves used bookstores and will probably bribe fourth years to bring her back books that are worn and loved when they go into roseville. just likes the feeling of worn down paper, slightly smudged ink, and the annotations of a stranger.

her favorite weather is rain and thunderstorms! for the aesthetic a bit, she will be melancholy for the sake of it, sitting by the window with a cup of tea, just thinking, journaling, writing poems about a lost lover and how she misses being tangled up in bedsheets, forgetting her own name. so dramatic.

used to be on a swim team as a kid and zoom zooms in the water, she’s not very fast on land but she’s a fucking shark !!!

grew up with piano lessons and can play the piano. sometimes writes her own music but it’s mostly for herself, will write songs about the people that she cares for. she’s talented!

her parents were much older when they adopted her and due to the secluded nature of her upbringing, most of her interests are older movies, older classic novels, older music...the stuff from the house she grew up in, she has old-fashioned taste.

does not really understand or use social media :/ tiktok terrifies her, doesn’t like the idea of the government having her info so. she is not really on any social networking, but she can be reached via text of course! does like emojis!

do i have to say it........obviously she’s bisexual......please forthe love of god if she doesn’t kiss a girl in the woods while she’s here i will lose my damn mind.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

FELLOW BOOK LOVERS? someone who’s into reading like she is, perhaps she will join the book club but they stay up late and discuss poems together and they just love to talk about media! maybe someone who’s a little more hip to contemporary things and can expose eva to some different genres, or get her to read some cheesy ridiculous romances or YA that she never would’ve touched otherwise. or they’re snobs like her. i’m just thinking rly hard about this pin.

MESSY EX PLS. hmm oh my god give me someone for eva to obsess over, please? not even in a positive way, but i’d love someone from her past; they could’ve met a) in america while she went to school there, b) her summers in london, c) any of her summer travels, maybe a summer romance...literally i’m down to work with anywhere in the world, but this would be someone that knows TOO MUCH about her and therefore she has to avoid them due to her role as a double agent, but she probably really wants to talk to them. they probably ended on bad terms without much closure but honestly, she can’t talk to them. terrified they’ll catch her in a lie, they just know her too damn well.

SOMEONE WHO IS SUSPICIOUS OF HER. they think she’s a bit odd, and while eva is good....there’s good spies at gallagher too and they just get a bad vibe from her. ask her a lot of questions, think she’s strange, and after the brotherhood bullshit last year, they’re wary of a new transfer student. eva is determined to give your character the runaround.

CRUSH. obviously eva is prone to obsession anyways, so let me have your dreamy, interesting muse that she can idealize in her head and write some poems about, maybe they vibe and talk about books and they have the same fave book and so she’s like instant heart eyes but obv. can’t and won’t do anything about it ever <3 she will act like this. i can see maybe this person being a legacy or someone eva needs to learn more about n she just becomes obsessed with them on a personal level too.

KINDRED SPIRITS. best friends but like they click INSTANTLY ah ! literally it’s like they’re soul mates, they have shared interests and they can spend all night talking. this is someone that eva is also tempted to reveal all of herself to but she can’t. she doesn’t feel bad about lying but she does to this person because they click on such an intimate level that it feels like they’ve known one another forever. terribly sad betrayal to come later <3 homies but make it dark academia tbh. also a vibe. also this.

SECRET FWB. obviously because of her job she prob shouldn’t be getting distracted or involved with anyone, but! sometimes a girl has needs. they probably sneak around a lot and they don’t really understand eva’s need for keeping things so secret? but she’s trying to keep the other agents like cecilia, cole, & allister from knowing that she’s being self-indulgent.

OPPOSITES ATTRACT FRIENDSHIP. give me your sunshine girls, your sparkly pink princesses, your muses that are always laughing...eva is attracted to her light and wants to be around her all the time, finds her adorable and compelling! they’re very different in energy but they find each other fascinating and eva finds her energy just so infectious, this girl makes eva feel optimistic about life and she adores her. would protect this girl with her life.

FLIRTATIONSHIP. this. probably like a flirtationship where they don’t take each other seriously or where she flirts with your muse a lot because she finds it funny and your muse continually puts down her advances but it’s all like jokes and amusing.

PEOPLE FROM HER PAST. not a ton of these obviously, but i wouldn’t mind one or two people that kind of make her squirm. maybe the angst of old friends that lost touch would be really fun? i’m a sucker for ex-friend things and then we can build them back up or ruminate in the awkwardness, whatever the vibe turns out to be.

PEN PAL. obviously eva was a lonely child so she found ways to make her own fun or...make her own friends. whether through an exchange program at school or something she found on the internet, these two have been writing letters for years. i feel like she stuck with it because she was such a lonely person whereas most people lose touch or you’re a kid so you forget about it. they probably graduated to text message over the years.

CARETAKER? idk someone who is like an older sibling figure to evangeline. she’s obviously never had that in her life, but someone who...sees that she’s struggling and wants to look after her? develops a soft spot for her? she’s like their weird daughter/younger sister/whatever and we love that. like that quote....ur such a soft and messy thing, no one knows how to take care of you...but this person does <3 holding her hair when she’s had too much wine, giving her tissues when her fave character in a book dies, etc.

GENERAL SPY STUFF. obviously eva is trying to get the best of cole and learn about her classmates so we’ll get to that. but also, eva is really interested in characters that cole is close to/cole cares about ... she shall be asking them lots of things and reporting back to mr. stewart, thanks.

also down to plot dynamics among classmates, roommates, and things relating to caledonia or whatever else, we can always just vibe with it.

#gallagher:intro #why am i so nervous to post this idk ! hi !

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spidercakes · 5 years ago

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Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tag List: @prettieststarker @readysetstarker @lover-starker@starkerprince @starker-flame @i-am-irondaddy @blush-reincarnated@c6h12o6-work @von–gelmini @caseysroses @darkobsidianquill

This is the least favorite part of Peter’s days, visiting his uncle. Its not like he doesn’t love him, of course he does, but its not exactly easy to look at him lying in a hospital bed with a tube sticking out of his mouth because some asshole shot him. And Peter knows whoever did it, because despite the whole thing being caught on camera the cops aren’t competent enough to find the guy, has probably led a complicated life too but that doesn’t make it easier. Its just what he knows Ben would say, if he could respond to Peter’s thoughts. He doesn’t know how Ben managed to stay as positive as he had, no matter what shitty thing was happening. Its admirable, Peter thinks, that he was always able to maintain that regardless of what was going on.

He’s quietly contemplating that when May walks in looking a little uncomfortable and it has to be worse for her. Peter can’t even imagine what it must be like, watching someone you’ve been married to for so long like this. “Apparently we’re up to date on payments,” she says softly, walking over and standing beside him. “That’s not possible.”

Peter shakes his head, “its fine, I got a job,” he tells her.

May clearly doesn’t buy it and he can’t say he blames her. “Doing what? Because there’s not a whole hell of a lot that pays that much and Ned confirmed you didn’t drop out of school.”

The good news is that Ned clearly didn’t tell her what his job was. “Oh, um. Internship, it pays well because its really hard to get into,” he lies.

“Shit, for that kind of money they might as well hire someone to work there full time,” May says and to Peter’s surprise she leaves it alone, settling her hand on his shoulder instead and squeezing. “If you get yourself into trouble, let me know,” she adds after a few moments. His stomach squeezes a little because he’s not in trouble and he doesn’t want to worry her, but he’s not really willing to tell her the truth either.

When he gets to Tony’s he’s kind of grateful that he knows exactly what’s going to happen because its a bit of a relief. He’s kind of had enough of wild cards and Tony is nothing if not thorough in his expectations so Peter changes into Liz’s skirt, determine that she’s never going to get it back now because he couldn’t possibly look her in the eye while she wore it and makes his way to the couch in the living room. He’s got homework, mostly writing up a few reports for class and its tedious more than anything but at least it keeps him focused.

Ned has already done his half in the google doc they’re sharing and Peter sends a silent thank you to him for not being a garbage lab partner. He got stuck with Flash once, which was weird because Flash apparently didn’t recognize him and then hit on him like he didn’t spend three quarters of high school calling him ‘penis parker’ and a bunch of other uncreative names when he thought of them. Turns out he’s as smart as he was in high school but he liked to wait until two hours before any given project was due to do the work and that just stressed him out. But Ned is reliable and not a total shithead so his half is done and Peter starts in on his. Might as well be productive before he’s essentially at work.

He’s managed to get a good chunk of it done by the time Tony walks in looking harassed. Peter looks at him over the back of the couch, “bad day?” he asks as Tony walks over.

Tony lets out an irritated sigh, “you could say that. You?” he asks, leaning against the back of the couch.

He could lie, but he doesn’t much see the point. Plus it works, feeling kind of the same way Tony does. “Not much better, but at least I don’t have shitty patterns for group projects so there’s that,” he says.

Tony laughs, “half the struggle in like, any collaborative situation. Which conveniently happens to be my problem. It irritates me when people don’t pull their weight,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, but you can like… fire them. I can’t fire shitty group project members, all I get is a strongly worded email to my professors saying that they’re lazy assbats in the most polite way I can manage.” Which always requires a group ‘is this too salty’ edit from his friends that takes an hour or so before he sends it. Life would be easier if he could just fire people.

“Yeah, but then you have to replace them and that’s a pain in the ass too,” Tony says, looking amused. “Assbats?”

Peter shrugs, “its the best I could come up with on short notice.”

Tony nods and looks him over, gaze stopping at his skirt for a moment. “You wore it,” he says like he hadn’t asked Peter to.

“Yeah, I um, you asked me to,” he points out.

“Doesn’t mean you’d listen. Can I kiss you?” he asks.

Yeah, its not like its a hardship to kiss Tony given that he’s not exactly bad looking so Peter nods. He’s anxious to get into this proper anyway, figure out what Tony is like when he’s actually doing the whole dom thing rather than just as a person. Peter already knows he likes him as a person. Tony looks him over slowly, eyes landing on his lips for a moment before he reaches forward and tilts Peter’s head up a little and leans in. The kiss is soft, sweet- tentative, like he isn’t sure of himself and that’s cute.

He goes to pull away but Peter pulls him back, shifting so he’s leaning up into Tony more. Tony cups his cheek, thumb brushing his cheek as he gently coaxes Peter into it, biting at his bottom lip a little and Peter lets out a soft moan. Tony pulls away but Peter grabs his hand before it can disappear too. “Don’t be cheap on me, Tony, I happen to know you have money,” Peter tells him surprised that he said that.

Tony takes it well though, smiling down at him with amusement. “I knew you were a good choice. Mind if I sit?” he asks, gesturing to the couch.

Peter frowns, “its your house,” he points out.

“Its your space I’d be sitting in,” Tony says.

He shrugs, “feel free,” he tells Tony, closing his laptop and curling his feet up, setting the laptop aside. Tony rounds the couch and reaches out, curling his hand around Peter’s crossed ankles and pulling them into his lap slowly, like he’s giving Peter time to pull away. He doesn’t, he just goes back to stretching his legs out as he settles in. Tony sets his arms down on Peter’s legs, one hand curling around his ankle as he strokes Peter’s ankle bone with his thumb.

“Here,” Tony says, shifting a little as he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He hands it to Peter and he frowns.

“A card?” he asks. Some kind of credit card, he assumes but that makes no sense.

“Yeah, a card. Get whatever you need with it. Or whatever you want,” Tony tells him.

“You’re like, aware I get paid, right?” Peter asks, squinting.

Tony snorts, “you’re aware I’m like a billionaire, right?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Peter can’t help the small snicker he lets out, “I mean yeah I know that but still. What’s the deal?”

“In my experience people have things to pay for in this line of work, usually something expensive. Take the wiggle room,” Tony tells him.

It occurs to him that Tony thinks he’s paying for school and Peter is happy to let him think that, actually. “Um, okay,” he says, setting the card on top of his computer.

“And buy something that isn’t pizza or hot pockets, I know how college students live,” Tony says and Peter laughs.

“Do you though?” he asks. Someone with as much money as Tony probably didn’t have like, a normal college experience by any stretch.

“Yeah, my lowest point was the time Rhodey and I ran out of food so we made Mr. Noodles with cranberry vodka. I don’t fucking recommend, we threw it up basically immediately,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

Oh god, ugh. “That’s disgusting and way worse than that time we all decided we wanted Frootloops so we went out to get some at three in the morning and came back only to find all the bowls were dirty so we made makeshift bowls out of tin foil.” Then they hate their food like trolls but it was great because they actually managed to find the damn Frootloops. Took a couple stores but they found them.

Tony laughs, shaking his head. “Tin foil bowls?” Peter nods and Tony grins, “that’s creative, I’ll give you that.”

“And disposable, so no extra dishes,” Peter says proudly.

“So you’ll use the card?” Tony states more than asks.

“I mean, if I need it maybe.” He doesn’t really need more money, just what he’s getting so he’s sure it’ll be fine.

“Use the card,” Tony tells him, tightening his grip on Peter’s ankle for a moment. “I gave it to you for a reason.”

“Three am Frootloops?” Peter says, grinning.

“There are better uses than that but sure, three am Frootloops,” he says, staring at him for a long moment before he smiles. “Come here,” he tells Peter, moving his arms off his legs.

Peter shifts, crawling over so he’s sitting in Tony’s lap. He looks a little surprised but recovers fast, wrapping an arm around him as his lips quirk up. “You’re perfect, you know that?” he tells Peter.

He blushes a little and looks away, “I don’t know about that,” he murmurs.

Tony tilts his head back up, “I do, baby. Now, do you want to get into this?” he asks.

Peter nods. “I kind of want to know what I’ve got in store for me,” he says.

Tony pets up his thigh with the hand that isn’t settled on his waist, “well, not too much tonight. Just some basic training,” Tony tells him. He pouts and Tony smiles at him again because apparently he likes that kind of thing. “Don’t look at me like that, you’ll be back soon anyway so its not like you have to wait all that long.”

“Training?” Peter prompts and Tony’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah, baby. You ready?”

Peter is on his way home feeling kind of… good when he sees them. He stops for a moment and looks, debates on walking away but he feels giddy and happy and his afternoon with Tony was good and the shoes are pretty. They’re a soft pink, the same one he’d worn at Tony’s the first time he was there and they’d look cute with that skirt he stole from Liz and he doesn’t need shoes. He definitely doesn’t need shoes that he’d probably never wear because where would he wear heels? So he goes to walk away, making it maybe five paces before he turns around and goes back because he likes the shoes and he had a shitty morning, he thinks he’s earned some shoes.

#tony stark x peter parker #starker #alternate universe #fanfiction

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localinferiorgood · 5 years ago

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BNHA Modern Gang AU

*I got bored on a car ride and kind of got overexcited imagining and planning out this AU inside my head so uh, yeah. I should also note that I ultimately decided they would not have quirks in this AU*

General Stuff: - I’ll be referring to the gang as Gang X for now - The kids would go to school and everything like normal kids but after school would have gang training (physical and in weapon use (instead of having quirks) - I want all of the major events of the show to still be incorporated in the AU, in some way - And I want all the kids to have the same personalities and relationships, because its not a BNHA AU if all the characters have different personalities (also I love my babies so) - Everyones “Hero Names” in the show are now their gang names - Instead of striving to become the #1 hero, they’re striving to eventually take over and become the head boss of the gang (at least Bakugo, Deku, and Todoroki are)

School: - So I was imagining the kids would go to a nice private school paid for by the gang - Also a major sports school - It would have mostly normal kids but have 2 classes (in each grade level) filled specifically with the gang kids (like the hero course; the normal kids would be based off the general track in UA) - There are rumors that the school may have gang ties, but no ones ever really been able to prove it - The school nurse (they call her Recovery Girl because it seems like she can take any injury in 15 minutes flat; she even takes care of broken bones and major injuries) and the principal (Nezu; not sure what would be unique about him yet, as he obviously can’t be a mouse in this one) and the gang-class teachers are all aware of the ties to the gang and are in it - So to properly encompass and justify Class 1-A and Class 1-B’s relationship, I was thinking both classes could also be in sports(maybe volleyball,baseball or basketball(require a lot of teamwork) but anything would probably work)?(it would be mandatory as physical training and to strengthen their bonds) - I can’t decide whether I would have Class 1-A be varsity and class 1-b be JV of the same sport or both varsity of different sports.

Support Course/items: - So.... this wouldn’t be an extra class physically in school, but the kids training to work on support items would go to the same private school - Hatsume is still the prodigy - Support tailors weapons and sometimes clothing/other stuff to fit specific people - Like they can tailor a specific gun to fit your hand, and can lower how much the gun kicks. They can do the same for knives, tailoring them to be the perfect length and weight for the user, as well as fitting perfectly in their hands. This goes for all weapons as well

“Gang Training”: - This is basically training to be able to be a competent gang member (most kids that get into the private school end up being higher ups) - They do basic physical training (I mean in hand-to-hand combat it helps to be strong, but also to handle the kick from any gun) but also with basic weaponry - The guns they use for training look, feel and have the actual kick of the gun they’re using but only actually shoot paintballs (Mr. Aizawa is a tough teacher but it’s not very rational to kill off all of your students lmao) - They train with all kinds of guns and ammunition, to get a feel for what each one is like and what they like. Aizawa requires them to train with all anyway though, as he believes you should be able to pick any random gun off the ground and shoot it with perfect efficiency and aim. - There’s safety measures for swords and knives too, but I haven’t trained with those so idk what those would be lol

All Might: - I was imagining he would be the boss, or head of the organization, since he’s #1 hero (at least in the beginning) - Like in the beginning of the show, he is secretly sick from an old injury and can only fight for so long before he starts coughing up blood. - He’s still revered as not only the best gang leader ever but also one of the most amazing fighters the underworld has ever seen - But, as he gets older he still needs to find a worthy successor, as he’s definitely not immortal - Believes the boss should still be actively involved in the gang, fighting alongside his men and while some people think it’s foolish, everyone respects and likes him more for it

All Might & Deku: - Obviously, Deku is still his secret chosen successor (or the one he wants to succeed him anyway but it will, in the end, go to the best candidate no matter what) - Deku was (distantly), probably through his father who’s in America, related to Gang X. His grandpa told him about it before he died, and all about All Might, the most impressive man in all the underworld, and has wanted to be just like him ever since - Soooo......I’m not entirely sure about how this part should play out, but I’m thinking maybe Deku was sick? And just couldn’t afford the really expensive procedure? (I’m pretty sure in the show Deku is middle class? So we’d keep it that way) - He by chance meets All Might and asks if he could ever be like him, even with his sickness, and All Might says no - Not sure what would go on to change his mind, but something happens, and All Might decides to pay for Deku’s hospital bills, heal whatever was going on, and personally start physically training him. Probably would make him clean up the whole ass beach still lmao - After the “entrance exam” (the physical part which happens after the standard school written at a secret location), Deku gets in by the skin of his teeth

Endeavor&Todofam: - uhhhhhhhhhhh........ - So he’s always wanted to be gang leader, but has always been behind All Might - He’s even tried duking it out with the boss a couple times but never wins - Not sure if I would make him head of the second most powerful branch of the gang or second in command - Either way he still not-so-secretly hates All Might, although he does grudgingly respect him - Wanted to become better than All Might, not get the top spot from All Might weakening, so he’s still pissed when All Might has to retire and he’s technically the boss now - So, I haven’t been able to decide what Rei had that Endeavor wanted(since no quirks) but I still want it to be a fucked arranged marriage. Maybe she came from “good bloodlines” (like notoriously strong and smart /or people, whether her family was arranged in gang stuff or not) or maybe she was just very pretty and when she refused him, he literally bought off her parents? - Still raised Touya and Shouto specifically to be All Might’s successor - Touya still wasn’t good enough for some reason and something happened to him (weak bones maybe?) and he’s still dead in this AU (or is Dabi whatever the truth really is) - Rei still had a psychotic break and burned Shouto’s eye with boiling water and is in a hospital

Top 10 Heroes: - So I want the top 10 heroes to either be the leaders of the 10 branches of the gang, or the top 10 members of the gang (they have a council or something)

Work Studies: - So in my old high school we were allowed to have a work study class, where we left campus for that hour and worked somewhere of our choosing, - Work studies were a big part of character development in the show so I’d like to keep those if possible - To make things less suspicious, work studies are required for all students (I mean let’s face it of entire classes all had work studies and others didn’t it would be weird). Also, since it’s a nice private school, I can totally see where they’d want the kids to go out and have “real world experience” before leaving high school - I would probably keep the fact that first years typically don’t have work studies (our school didn’t let freshman have them) but they’re trying something different this year - Of course the gang classes would be sent to various gang members (I think they’d still get to choose who, but idk maybe it would be more interesting if the teachers chose for them? - The general classes would go to whatever work study of their choosing, probably based on the careers they want to go into

Sports Festival: - Literal school sports festival - Limited only to those school students, i think - Gang members interested in work studies would come watch and scout - Would it be as internationally famous as the UA sports festival? i dont know tbh

Summer Camp & The Wild Wild Pussycats: - Not sure if here they would be purely working on physical ability and maybe martial arts or on weapons and stuff too - It would depend whether or not the Pussycats knew about the whole gang thing(or if they were involved in it) or were just regular physical trainers with no connection or idea about the gang thing - Kota......I think I would have his parents die in a gang-related accident and, obviously, hate anything to do with gang activity (which is normal anyway). If the Pussycats were not gang-related I’m not sure how the whole Deku-saving-him thing would go down but oh well - The League of Villains would be attacking still, to kidnap Bakugo (for whatever reason)

League of Villains (Gang Y) & All for One: - In a world where there are no “heroes” and “villians”, they obviously can’t go by that name (I mean I guess they can but I feel like that would be kind of stupid and odd) so we’ll go with Gang Y, for now - All for One can’t be immortal in this one, so maybe the gang name just keeps getting passed on from successor to successor? Or he’s just stupidly old(like 100 years old and still kicking ass)? - So, in the underworld, obviously no one is really “good” so to speak, I assume Gang X would still be involved in basic drug deals and stuff like that, but think Gang Y would be involved in some really fucked up shit. Like slave trade stuff maybe? Blood money? - Gang X and Gang Y have been top rivals since both of them started (around the same time) - Gang startup story would be the same as the beginning of the AFO and OFA rivalry in the show (2 brothers with different ideals) - AFO still ends up in jail after the legendary battle in Kamino Ward - So......I’m having trouble with Shigaraki’s backstory since quirks aren’t a thing. Like obviously it would still be a horrific accident but.....yeah you get the point (haha it sucks trying not to spill manga spoilers) - Toga’s backstory would pretty much be the same I think - Spinner would have some deformity or something (since he can’t be a lizard) justifying his backstory - Twice is hard for the backstory thing.....but I would still have some traumatic event that caused him to do the contradicting voices thing - Nomu’s would maybe be like, brainless humans? Still look like flesh and blood humans but essentially be brain dead and only do what AFO tells them to do? Not sure but I’d still like them to be the result of human experimentation. - In Kurogiri’s case.........not sure tbh we’ll work on it - Speaking of Kurogiri, he is like, get away driver/escape artist of the millennia. It’s like him and the rest of Gang Y just disappear into thin air. Even the police have tried to track him but? he’s just....gone? He’s still team mom, by the way, and really the only reason the Gang Y survives tbh (Credit to @tears-of-an-otaku )

Stain: - Goes after and kills gang members (especially higher-ups) that he deems “corrupt” (ones that sit back and make underlings do all the work; rapers; betrayers; ones that are only really in it for the money; etc) - Puts chemicals on his weapons that immobilize his victims; The blood-type thing is still the same (works longer/better on specific blood-types) - Iida still goes after him for disabling his brother, and Deku finds and follows him, and Todoroki ends up coming as back up. - They still don’t get the credit for defeating him “for safety reasons”

Chisaki & Eri: - From a rivaling gang - Not sure how they find out whats going on but they do - Eri, at the very least, is still severely abused, but it would be cool to be able to incorporate using her blood to make some kind of drug - Not really sure about much in this story arc tbh it’s so quirk-based it’s kind of hard to incorporate without them :/

The Licensing Exam: - Another sports festival, but this time with other major sports schools - Gang members come to scout as well - In this one though, the other kids are just competing in a sports festival, but the teachers of the “gang classes” are also watching to determine whether or not their kids are ready to take on more “hardcore”/serious work studies (or even internships), where they would be able to experience what it’s actually like to be in a gang a little more in depth and practice real world fighting (and of course their special skills) - Special thanks to @tears-of-an-otaku for helping me figure this one out!

The Kids: - Like I said I want all the kids personalities and relationships to be the same - Jiro is still super into music and can still play (at least a little bit) a bunch of instruments; She has unnaturally good hearing too. - Bakugo obviously can’t explode things with his hands anymore but has a dangerous interest in explosives (he was actually recommended to join the Support team but he rudely declined); still tells everyone to die on the (way too) regular; also still has the best reflexes in the class - Deku is super strong. Our sweet boy doesn’t look it but is strong af - Koda, still quiet as ever, is super good with animals (but afraid of bugs) - Momo is super good at designing and creating stuff and is very inventive(can always find a solution to a problem); She was also recommended to help in support but she (politely) declined; Still team mom - Iida’s a great runner (probably best at long distance but good at jump about anything)! Back in middle school, he was an absolute track star, but now-a-days with school, his class sports, and gang training, he doesn’t have time for track as well :( ;Still class president and team dad - Kaminari is still our lovable dumbass but is really good with electronics and wiring anything. - Shinsou obviously can’t actually mind control, but he’s a super smooth talker and can convince almost anybody to do anything for him, so it can kind of seem like he controls people. - Kirishima is an icon when it comes to defense training, he can block almost anything. He also never seems to get bruises. The rest of the class lowkey hates him for it because while, at the end of the day, they’re covered in bruises, Kirishima’s got maybe one (but usually not even that). He dyed his hair because he thought it made him took tougher and less boring - Aoyama is still into the ridiculously shiny, which is horrible for stealth practice, but he has this trick where he (maybe with a bracelet or something? Or a belt bc of his iconic belt in the show) can blind his opponent with the light reflecting off the metal and go in for an attack in that moment. It’s surprisingly effective. - Oijiro may not have a tail, but he still excels at martial arts.He even rivals Bakugo (he might be able to win if Bakugo played by the actual martial arts rules that Oijiro was taught but he won’t) - Sugar makes Sato really energetic really quickly! (and for some reason makes him focus better). He’s still a super good cook and baker - Shouji still wears a mask all the time (he has a medical condition with his mouth that’s kind of gross and tends to scare people). He “talks with his hands” using sign language! He’s been teaching the rest of the class, as Aizawa said it was a very useful skill to have, especially in a situation where they need to be quiet but still communicate. - Hagakure, for whatever reason, is amazing a stealth missions! She’s somehow really good at blending into the background and even Jiro can’t hear her when she walks (unless she’s really focusing on it). Top of her class in it, actually. - Mineta still isn’t that good in actual battle but is really good at simple immobilization (sorry the only thing I could think of for him even a little bit related to his quirk). - Ururaka (while not as strong as Deku), is surprisingly, incredibly strong. She can pick almost anything up and make it seem like the thing’s totally weightless (even when she’s actually struggling, something Deku can’t do) - Sero is the master of Duck tape really good at fixing stuff! It seems like he can fix almost anything; Him and Momo team up a lot when something breaks (which, in Class 1-A, is surprisingly often *cough* Bakugo *cough*); (Sorry, couldn’t really think of anything for him either but tape=fixing things? maybe?) - Mina is really into chemistry, specifically corrosives and hazardous mixtures. Her and Bakugo once teamed up after school and tried to make something - Aizawa said if they ever teamed up to do anything in the chemistry lab again they were going to be banned from it; Mina still has pink hair - Tokoyami has a pet raven that follows him everywhere-literally everywhere. It was a problem at first, but the school eventually decided to let Tokoyami keep it as long as it wasn’t making a mess anywhere and not attacking students (everyone else is lowkey mad about it like why does he get to keep a pet? Nezu tries to pass it off as an “emotional support bird” but everyone knows that’s bullshit); The bird (whom Tokoyami’s emo ass named Dark Shadow for some reason) can actually attack on cue! Actually, he kind of constantly has to be watched otherwise he might attack someone on the random (it’s happened; he seems to pick up on Tokoyami’s emotions somehow and if Tokoyami gets mad well.....; He has in particular had trouble Aoyama and all his sparkly things); The bird can actually send messages too! Tokoyami refuses to say how or why he trained his bird to do this but since no one expects such an old fashioned way of sending a message, it’s extremely useful for high secrecy messages (and packages; actually the actual gang has used it a time or two, a fact Tokoyami is secretly proud of). (Credit to @agaxso) - Todoroki is, not quite an expert, but has a weird amount of knowledge on arson and burning things (not sure why a gang would really need a skill like this except to burn bodies beyond recognition but Endeavor specializes in it so it must be useful somewhere); He also has an extensive knowledge of using polyoxacyclobutane mixtures(liquid nitrogen definitely and maybe some other things?) to freeze things at whatever temperature (I think he’d probably shoot bullet-like things out of a modified gun; Freezing the target when it hits. Here’s a link explaining basically how polyoxacyclobutane works); He has practice with the modified gun from training with his father, but his mom was the one that originally taught him how to make and use the bullets properly.(Credit to @agaxso) - Monoma can do anything almost perfectly after watching someone else do it once. Unfortunately, he has a really horrible memory so he only retains the information for like an hour then has to watch them do it again. Still an annoying asshole - Kendo is tough as hell! Specifically has really tough hands/knuckles. The One Punch Man of class 1-B, she is literally known for being able to knock people out in only a punch or two. She once smacked Monoma and he had a wicked bruise on his cheek for 2 weeks. She still maintains that she “didn’t even hit him that hard” - Awase is an amazing welder! He was another candidate for the support team, but after some consideration he declined - Tetsutetsu, like Kirishima, has ridiculously tough skin that never bruises, and has amazing defense - I don’t really know enough about class 1-B to finish this unfortunately - Aizawa and Vlad actually put special time aside for the kids to practice and hone their specific skills and learn how to put them to use in battle. After all, you should use everything you have in your arsenal in real battle, and unique/special “skills” can be extremely useful in battle and often pack the element of surprise and can easily but you above whoever your fighting, (especially if they don’t have any special attacks)

Soooo......if anybody would like to write out this AU for me and help fill in the blanks I would love you forever and also probably owe you my life because I have absolutely fallen in love with this AU. Also let me know if I missed anything or you have ideas for the stuff I couldn’t fill in and I’ll put it in (and credit you of course lol) @todorokitops I know you’re a pretty well known Tumblr fanfic writer so......know anybody who might be up for the challenge?

#bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha au #bnha gang au #gang au #mha gang au #modern gang au

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kinetic-elaboration · 4 years ago

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November 28: STID Again

From the writer of “I re-watched ST XI for the second time in 2 months” comes “I re-watched STID for the second time in 2 months”! And here are my thoughts.

This film still sucks but it sucked a little less this time because I’d adjusted my expectations accordingly. Also I’d already spent my rage on some of the... bigger, more general rage-inducing things, including the underwear scene, the white-washing, Pike’s death, and Spock’s reaction to Kirk dying.

I got angrier about the S/U stuff than I did watching ST XI because there truly seemed to be no point to it at all. At least in ST XI you felt like they did it for some kinda reasons--dumb reasons like “Spock needs comforting” and or “funny gag about the hero not getting the girl”--but reasons. They would have been better off just not mentioning that Spock and Uhura were a thing in this film. They barely do anything with it, and everything they do makes either Uhura specifically or both of them as a unit look bad: how she wrings her hands and clutches her pearls when he’s in danger (uh, have you noticed what both your jobs are lol?); how they fight in the middle of a mission, thus endangering themselves and their Captain; how she just sneaks into background shots for the rest of the film whenever things look Too Gay to remind you that Spock totally has a girlfriend and totally isn’t into the Captain because no homo right fellas??

Also yet again Spock seems pretty well checked out of this relationship. He may use the Vulcan excuse but let me tell ya he looked AWFULLY confused when she kissed him after the little Klingon cosplay interlude thing. Like he barely kissed back and then when she walked away he looked after her like “What was that??”

Anyway I did enjoy the times when Spock was clearly jealous of Carol Marcus. He was probably at his most IC there: Spock seeing a woman even glance at the Captain and immediately becoming a petty, dramatic bitch to her is very TOS.

Overall, this was the Kirk Show, which would usually fly well with me because I love him your honor, but they ALSO simultaneously butchered his character, which really soured the experience. Like they really, really did him dirty throughout. He’s reckless, he’s a liar, he’s arrogant, he’s slutty, he’s vengeful, he’s an obvious pawn for Bad People in the Bad Starfleet, he’s immoral, he’s easily played, he’s slutty again... and then toward the end of the film he starts learning some lessons and then sacrifices himself heroically. But he basically has to learn to be the sort of person I feel like Kirk just is inherently, which made me feel like he was being written by people who just didn’t get him at all. Which is hard to watch.

I think CPIne did a good job of forcibly pulling him toward something like IC characterization wherever possible, though. I really liked him in the conversation with Admiral Marcus. He turned on the charm and that “who me?” kind of attitude to look defenseless while he was actually scheming. Also I totally noticed him sneaking in some flirty looks with both Spock and Bones.

I don’t know how I feel about the Spock characterization in this movie. I felt like he was really annoying in the early parts of the film. And I disagree that he’s this big rule follower because come ON fools have you SEEN TOS? He’s logical, that’s not the same thing as being a stickler for regulations. He could certainly cite them and there are scenes where he goes up against McCoy in particular about the rules, but you could just as easily find scenes where Kirk or McCoy cites or uses regulations to his advantage because the truth is ALL of these people are very smart, competent, and good at their jobs and ALL of them are professional career military and care about doing things the right way. But you’d never get ANY of that from AOS.

Not to circle back too obviously here but I grow very weary with the no-homo-ness of this film/series. The constant placement of Uhura in scenes or even individual shots where she doesn’t need to be, lest anyone forget that Spock likes the ladies; the weird disconnect between the events influencing Kirk and Spock’s relationship (literally saving each other’s lives) and the lesson they learn from it (”We’re bros! Friends for life!”); just how few scenes they were even allowed to have with each other. But honestly mostly the second thing. So much effort is put into Kirk saving Spock in the beginning and making this into a big deal (even though he would have done that for any crew member imo) and then of course Kirk’s (almost) death is the big teary climax of the film and all that and ALL he says in his final moments are “I need you to understand why I didn’t let you die” and ALL Spock can say is “We’re friends.” YEAH DUH BITCH WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE COWORKERS?

So frustrating.

Things I did definitely like: Kirk looking mighty fine (I’m just gonna say it, he looks prettiest in STID); Pike (though I’m still angry at his death); the radiation-chamber scene (even though it was spoiled a little by that dumbass angry Khan yell)...that might be it. Oh and McCoy/Carol Marcus flirting. I liked Carol in general despite her few moments of weird ditziness.

STID is not a good film, and it’s certainly not a good Star Trek film--for some reason it decides to spend a large amount of time being Transformers, Star Wars, a Sad English Drama, a Gritty, Dark Military Drama, literally anything but Star Trek, which it never TRULY was, in the sense of “space utopia”--but it is watchable. Unlike Beyond which, as far as I can remember from the last time I saw it probably no later than 2017, really is not.

...I’m probably still going to attempt to rewatch it at some point though.

#the year 2020 #2020: fandom thoughts #2020: star trek #this is super incoherent but! oh well!

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little-purple-thundercloud · 4 years ago

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A bit about L’yhta Mahre

PLACE IN SOCIETY

✖ FINANCIAL – wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

L’yhta is quite well-off thanks to her inheritance from her mentors, the sale of items she finds during adventures, and the rewards from levequests. That said, she has essentially no control over her finances, which are handled by the Tower’s majordomo, Volkido, nor does she particularly desire grand luxury. As such, she doesn’t typically have access to, nor employs, these assets, and instead lives a lifestyle of moderate means.

✖ MEDICAL – fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / deceased

L’yhta naturally has a very fast metabolism, and she’s also a professional adventurer; as such, she gets a lot of exercise that keeps her quite fit. She also tends to run around a lot, even when she could just as easily walk.

✖ CLASS OR CASTE – upper / lower / middle / working / unsure

“I’m used to being feared and. Having people keep away from me.” Powerful practicing thaumaturges can parley their status into considerable class if they want to do; she has no interest in such things (and indeed tends to find class structures abhorrent due to what they’ve done to people she cares about), so in practice, she ends up being an anomaly that those who care about social class aren’t quite sure what to do about.

✖ EDUCATION – qualified / unqualified / studying

An arguably abusive training regimen, followed by the fact that magic is effectively her entire life, has given this woman broad-spanning knowledge across a variety of topics.

FAMILY

✖ MARITAL STATUS – married, happily / married, unhappily / engaged / partnered / divorced / widow or widower / separated / single / it’s complicated

"My personal life is a, what do they call it? A trash fire, you know?” L’yhta’s current romantic situation is as a member of a poly pod, though she isn’t romantically involved with everyone in it. However, she also holds a flame for the auri girlfriend she rarely sees and the miqo’te bard that she’s not entirely sure how she feels about (and never has been). She was also briefly married, but that relationship fell apart due to disputes over her polyamorous inclinations.

✖ CHILDREN – has children / no children / wants children / adopted children

L’yhta doesn’t currently want children. Beyond the fact that she feels awkward around them, she feels children are incompatible with the life of an adventurer. She is also increasingly of the opinion that she’s incapable of having children at all, due to an ill-advised experiment in magic years ago.

✖ FAMILY – close with sibling / not close with siblings / has no siblings / siblings are deceased / it’s complicated

As she came from a tribal background, she has several siblings -- five sisters and a brother. Her brother is currently the nunh of that tribe; her sisters view her with anything from naked contempt for abandoning the tribe to benign distaste for "not being useful.” That her skill in magic obviates the need to be skilled at hunting with a bow or chopping down trees is lost on them, or perhaps they’re just jealous.

✖ AFFILIATION – orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by both parents / other

L’yhta was raised within a tribe, and she looked up her father with considerable hero worship. Unfortunately, he died shortly after the Calamity (at the hands of her older brother, no less), and her mother perished a few years later. She’s collected father figures since then -- most notably her mentor in magic, Robert Fletcher, and the Voice of the Tower, Eamont Desormaux.

TRAITS & TENDENCIES

✖ disorganized / organised / in between

Her lab area and notes, and indeed anything involving magic, are meticulously organized. As for the rest of her world -- well, there’s a reason Volkido has a maid clean her apartment daily, and as of yet her partners have yet to complain too vociferously about smallclothes and plates lying in random places around the house.

✖ close-minded / open-minded / in between

L’yhta can be extremely close-minded about certain things (religious zealotry, nobility, class structures, and harming others), but outside of those areas, she’s quite open-minded and accepting of other approaches and ways of life.

✖ cautious / reckless / in between

If there’s a ruin to be scaled or a cave to be plumbed, she’ll already be up or down it before anyone can voice opposition. She does show caution in some instances, in which case you know she’s pretty scared.

✖ patient / impatient / in between

The longer she has to wait for people to plan a course of action, the more fidgety she gets. This is a mage who thrives on action and doesn’t want to wait! She can be patient when it comes to things that require patience (such as alchemy), but she’ll be jumping to something else to stay occupied while the time passes.

✖ outspoken / reserved / in between

While she’s gotten better at holding her tongue over the years, L’yhta is a Big, Open Personality who largely isn’t afraid to speak her mind (unless she’s afraid it’ll wreck one of her relationships).

✖ leader / follower / in between

As much as she proclaims that she’s a terrible leader and she should never be followed, her knowledge combined with her personality put her at the forefront of most situations, and she’s always ready to take charge.

✖ sympathetic / unsympathetic / in between

“Ever since I have known you, you have never lived for yourself.” One could say that L’yhta suffers the Curse of Empathy -- she cares deeply about everyone’s feelings, even that of the world as a whole, and will readily shove any issues she has aside to take care of others.

✖ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

L’yhta is optimistic about the world as a whole; she truly believes that Good will ultimately triumph over Evil, that there will always be Lights in the Darkness, and that Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love will win the day. That said, she’s deeply pessimistic about herself and her life, largely feeling like she’s a walking disaster that ruins everything she’s near and that she’s never strong enough, never smart enough, never fast enough, and never wise enough to be a positive in others’ lives.

✖ hardworking / lazy / in between

Throwing herself into her work is one of L’yhta’s primary coping mechanisms for stress and her constant depression and inferiority complex, but even outside of that, she’s driven to improve the state of the Art.

✖ cultured / uncultured / in between

"Oh! And I’m her uncultured ijin girlfriend, you know? It’s great to meet you!” L’yhta has never found much value in “high culture.” This is not the miqo’te to ask about which spoon to use or how best to greet a Hingan noble.

✖ loyal / disloyal / in between

When she feels she has let someone down, L’yhta beats herself up about it. She’s tremendously loyal to everyone she knows, or at least tries to be; when she fails to live up to that ideal in any way, she tends to spiral into self-hatred.

✖ faithful / unfaithful / in between

Romantically, L’yhta has been unfaithful before, and it’s a sore spot that she flagellates herself now and then. She takes great pains now to be exceedingly careful about anything that might even be perceived as being unfaithful, to the extent that her partners sometimes think she��s too cautious.

Religiously, she has a deep devotion to her conception of the Mothercrystal, which to her represents the source of the Lifestream and all aether in the world. For her, protecting the children of the Crystal is a duty -- one she takes on gladly.

SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION

✖ SEXUALITY – heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual / omnisexual / demisexual

L’yhta identifies as bisexual, but in reality, she’s closer to polysexual.

✖ SEX – sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable

✖ ROMANCE – romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable

✖ SEXUALLY – sexually adventurous / sex experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious / uninterested

L’yhta really enjoys sex, yes, but she also heavily compartmentalizes. As such, if her mind isn’t on fooling around, she typically will appear entirely uninterested and not even pick up on innuendo. More than once she’s been talking about magic theory and entirely ignoring the obvious Fuck Me Eyes she’s getting.

ABILITIES

✖ COMBAT SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

While she’s not especially dangerous in melee, L’yhta is an extremely talented and experienced combat mage and adventurer with a keen eye for small group tactics.

✖ LITERACY SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

L’yhta will be the first to say that she’s not especially talented at linguistics, despite being conversationally capable in Hingan, Doman, Belah’dian, and Mhachi; being able to read Nymian and Amdaporian; and being marginally skilled at translating Allagan. It’s probably more fair to say that outside of learning languages well enough to be able to use them for magic or singing, her linguistic skills are iffy at best, and that’s mostly because she’s easily distracted from exercising them.

✖ ARTISTIC SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

L’yhta can sing and dance (ballet and ballroom) with reasonable amateur competency. She can also draw circles and other arcane geometries freehand, though she doesn’t consider this an artistic skill so much as a magickal one that every arcanist or esoterica researcher must be able to do.

✖ TECHNICAL SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Within the area of magic, L’yhta has incredibly advanced technical skills that enable her to create new spells and cheat reality (and the Reaper). Outside of that area, her skills are laughably poor. She can barely turn on magitek devices, can only cook a few simple dishes, and doesn’t really understand the principles of teknology.

Tagged by: @mercermachines, thank you! :)

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it! I’m late to this particular party, I know.

#ooc #meme #character bio

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punjabiolympia · 5 years ago

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20 Best Female Fitness Models Of 2020

There are actually so many superb feminine fitness fashions on the market that we couldn’t probably embody everybody on our record. However, we did discover among the many hottest and influential ladies at the moment (however don’t be mad in case your favourite wasn’t included). These hotties are completely doing their factor and all have fairly huge followings on Instagram/social media. So, right here’s our record of common feminine fitness fashions (take pleasure in)! 1. Kayla Itsines First up is Australian private coach Kayla Itsines. This 28-year-old can also be an writer and entrepreneur who based a collection of fitness ebooks known as Bikini Body Guides (BBG). She additionally created the app, Sweat with Kayla, which was probably the most profitable fitness app of 2016. Itsines is vastly common on social media, boasting a powerful 12.5 million followers on Instagram. She was additionally named 30 most influential individuals on the Internet by Time’s, and identifies herself as Greek on account of her household heritage. Itsines can also be definitely among the many wealthiest fitness figures with over $60 million. 2. Sommer Ray An completely gorgeous fitness mannequin from the U.S., this 23-year-old has discovered unparalleled success with 24.9 million Instagram followers to show it. This tops our record for Instagram followers. She additionally owns a clothes model (Sommer Ray Collection) and is getting extra common by the day. 3. Michelle Lewin If we’re speaking about feminine fitness fashions then Michelle Lewin positively belongs within the dialog. This beautiful influencer positively is aware of what she’s doing relating to constructing a head-turning physique. Lewin began off working at a Venezuela clinic and doubtless by no means would have thought she’d blow up how she did. Now she’s one of the recognizable faces who has been on the duvet of a number of high-profile fitness magazines together with Sports & Fitness, Her Muscle & Fitness, and Iron Man. She’s at the moment based mostly in South Florida. Oh… and also you would possibly keep in mind the time she was bitten within the butt by a pig on the seashore throughout a photoshoot. 4. Jen Selter Top feminine fitness mannequin and web superstar Jen Selter is simply 26 years outdated however she has made fairly the title for herself. Her ardour for fitness began in highschool when she labored on the entrance desk of a fitness center. She discovered figuring out to be a technique to relieve stress and earlier than she knew it, she would pave the best way for different social media influencers. Selter apparently performed a component in popularizing the “belfie” or butt selfie and her signature “Seltering” poses. She has additionally been featured in a number of publications comparable to Women’s Health, Vanity Fair, Cosmopolitan, The New York Post, and Elite Daily. Other notable accomplishments embody being acknowledged as a prime fitness influencer by Forbes in 2017. She’s additionally the co-owner for BlendJet (moveable blenders) and founding father of @couplegoals. 5. Paige Hathaway Definitely one of many extra common feminine fitness fashions, Paige Hathaway started her journey in 2011. Hathaway is from Minnesota initially and has achieved such enormous success through the years. Although, her childhood was tough coping with the divorce of her mother and father and custody points. But she went on to do fairly nicely for herself, competing in Bikini, showing in magazines, and raking in 7 figures a year, making her one of many highest-paid fitness fashions. 6. Ana Cheri Besides having a really profitable modeling profession, Ana Cheri can also be a fitness center proprietor, actress, and host with a following of 12.5 million on Instagram. Cheri was additionally a options Playmate mannequin in 2015, citing the next about gym-spiration… “You have to start somewhere. If the gym seems intimidating, try an outdoor sport. Every little bit counts.” 7. Anllela Sagra Anllela Sagra has a killer physique that she isn’t shy about displaying off. Her determine has acquired lots of consideration from prime names within the trade and earlier than she turned actually common, she was a vogue design pupil who would mannequin (vogue) just a few instances per week. But she turned very severe about fitness and needed to compete, of which she positioned third at her first competitors. Sagra’s transfer to the US from Columbia was apparently one of the best transfer the 26-year-old made as a result of it paid off huge time! Here’s an inspiring quote from the bio on her web site… “In life there is no such thing as luck, there are only opportunities and it is your decision whether or not to take a chance on them. I decided to take it and risk everything, lose everything and just jump into the world of possibilities and the truth is that it was the best decision I ever made in my life.” 8. Eva Andressa It’s fairly apparent Eva Andressa works her butt off to rock that sort of physique and he or she positively deserves the popularity. Of course, she used to compete professionally which is smart. Her most notable accomplishments embody… 2008 Brasil, Bodyfitness, 1st 2009 Brazilian National champion, Bodyfitness The 35-year-old Brazilian mannequin has 5.6 million Instagram followers and actually noticed success after showing on the superstar TV present in Brasil – Programa do Jo. Andressa went on to have her personal present in 2015 known as Dica Fitness of which she interviews well-known athletes. 9. Katya Elise Henry Based in Miami, Florida, Katya Elise Henry has actually bought it happening. She’s additionally a WBFF Pro in addition to a coach and mannequin who has impressed and helped to rework so many individuals across the globe. Here’s a bit of the bio from her web site Workouts by Katya… “My journey started when I was at a place probably very similar to where you are right now. I knew how I wanted to look, and I knew that I really wanted to look like that, but I didn’t know where to start. Workouts By Katya was born out of my motivation to inspire and empower everyone to be their best. My vision is to provide you with the best workout programs and information to allow you to be your very best. I was blessed with a Mom who is an amazing personal trainer, and a Dad who has always been involved in sports and weight training. Growing up, I was always active and generally fit. My childhood dream was to be a cheerleader, and I pursued this goal until it was achieved when I turned 18! As I grew older, I started to develop an understanding of the way I wanted to look. My main sources of motivation came from my mom and sister, but also from myself. I know that my fitness journey will never stop – improvement is constant and never-ending!” 10. Karina Elle Karina Elle is on each feminine fitness mannequin crush record. She’s a former athlete and Bikini competitor having received the World Fitness Federation Pro Bikini Championship. The half Asian/half European mannequin is thought for her slender and athletic physique standing at 5’11 tall. She discovered a ton of success in her 20’s and has grow to be one of the in-demand feminine fitness fashions. Elle additionally has her personal web site for training and galvanizing. 11. Emily Skye Personal coach and fitness mannequin Emily Skye based Emily Skye FIT which is the end result of her years being concerned within the trade. But she needed to do extra and now how a web based program consisting of every part ladies have to be more healthy and extra FIT. Emily Skye can also be the co-founder of a cosmetics model James cosmetics. And she’s at the moment anticipating a child boy… 12. Anna Nystrom Anna Nystrom is a well being/fitness/life-style YouTuber from Sweden with 8.6 million followers on Instagram. She skilled just a few setbacks whereas finding out for design and vogue on account of well being points. However, she was capable of flip issues round by studying about well being and fitness which led to her changing into a private coach and the remainder was historical past. Nystrom developed a ardour for social media and used these platforms to encourage so many individuals. She was additionally capable of observe her ardour for design and vogue by launching the exercise clothes line Ryvelle® in 2018. 13. Bru Luccas Brazilian mannequin Bru Luccas went from McDonald’s employee to common fitness determine and enterprise proprietor. She’s additionally one half of a duo together with her sister known as Body & Sisters on Instagram. There’s no approach she wouldn’t belong on this record… 14. Lauren Drain Lauren Drain has one of the fascinating tales on the market that she become a e-book, and have become a New York Times bestseller. She’s a Registered Nurse, private coach, and Bikini Pro who owns her personal enterprise. Despite her unlucky early years the place she was pressured to evolve to a cult, she’s achieved amazingly nicely and is fortunately married. 15. Gracyanne Barbosa Gracyanne Barbosa is a Brazilian fitness mannequin and Carnaval dancer who started her rise to stardom after monetary points led her to pursue dancing and modeling. She posed for Playboy Brazil within the February 2007 subject after which caught the eye of many after a video was shared of her squatting round 450 lbs. The authenticity of the weights used was positively in query however her reputation has risen considerably. 16. Tammy Hembrow Australian-born Tammy Hembrow most just lately posted a fairly racy photograph that caught the eye of the media. And she isn’t afraid to point out what she has labored for. She’s a mom of two at age 26 and began her private model in 2015 and seeks to show ladies reside a more healthy and healthier life-style. Hembrow has 11.Three million Instagram followers and over 1 million YouTube subscribers. 17. Amanda Lee Canadian fitness mannequin Amanda Lee is admittedly shy, nevertheless, that hasn’t stopped her from making her presence recognized. She was very skinny in her youthful years of which she despised however due to her mom who was a private coach, Lee was capable of finding herself and her ardour. She then rose to fame on Instagram after a well-known dancer tagged her and earlier than she knew, the followers and alternatives began to flood in. 18. Brooke Ence A former prime CrossFit competitor who positioned 14th on the 2015 CrossFit Games, Brooke Ence is as spectacular as they arrive. So a lot so actually, that she has had some fairly good success with appearing. Ence has had roles within the movies Wonder Woman (2017), Justice League (2017), and Black Lightning (2018). The Utah native was all the time athletic and aggressive which appeared to essentially repay. Ence stated she was making a comeback to CrossFit competitors in 2020 seeing how common she is, that might be an thrilling build-up for her and followers. 19. Heidi Somers Also generally known as BuffBunny, Heidi Somers is a fitness competitor and mannequin. Somers wasn’t all the time match… or wholesome. In reality, when she lived in her home state of Alaska, she hit all-time low on account of relationships, her job, and her well being habits. So she relocated to Texas and have become concerned with CrossFit earlier than transitioning right into a deal with increase her physique of which she competed within the NPC. And by seems to be of issues, she didn’t waste her potential. 20. Anna Victoria Concluding our record, Anna Victoria started her fitness journey in 2012 with no information of get match and little or no understanding of correct vitamin. She had some well being issues which meant it was much more crucial for her to learn to reverse this and grow to be her healthiest. Fast ahead to 2015 and he or she was altering lives which led to growing her Fit Body Guides and the Fit Body App. Wrapping Up We actually hope you loved our record of 20 common feminine fitness fashions for 2020. Again, you might have a special opinion based mostly on ladies who’ve impressed you. But we selected some huge names that we all know have completed quite a bit. And you by no means know, you would possibly simply discover some new inspiration. Read the full article

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