#and you suddenly have to seek it out again to rewatch to make sure it was real. or that you weren't exaggerating.

[partlyironic]

hey guys. remember this.

[dweemeister]

2022 Movie Odyssey Awards

And now to (finally) cap off the 2022 Movie Odyssey, here is the annual awards ceremony. To remind you all, the films eligible for the Movie Odyssey are only those that I saw for the first time in their entirety over the last calendar year. Rewatches do not count. Other eligibility rules (such as whether or not a “TV movie” versus a “streaming movie” can count can be found here).

All of these films that were nominated or won (except for Worst Picture) are worth your time and are worth seeking. Even though some of them might be deeply flawed, there are redeeming elements to them that make them wonderful watches. And some, like our ten Best Picture winners - I never distinguish one above the other nine because it’s just too damn hard - are my highest recommendations of the year.

Best Pictures

La bestia debe morir (The Beast Must Die) (1952, Argentina)

The Doll (1919, Germany)

Drive My Car (2021, Japan)

Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022)

The Ladykillers (1955)

Nightmare Alley (1947)

A Patch of Blue (1965)

Petite Maman (2021, France)

Sidewalk Stories (1989)

The Tragedy of Macbeth (2021)

With the fewest movies I’ve seen on record in a calendar year since the blog began, this probably would mean that Best Picture would skew newer, as it does here. For the first time ever, Best Picture has more than three films from the current decade. Drive My Car seems to herald a return to form for Japanese cinema (whose live-action industry has lacked much appeal for international audiences until recently). EEAAO is an Internet favorite, and its fearless filmmaking has proven emotionally resonant while ridiculously entertaining. Little-seen Petite Maman is a low fantasy movie that looks at grief through the eyes of a child - and it is one of the finest films about children I have seen in years. The Tragedy of Macbeth was a stunner for its loaded cast and its deeply atmospheric black-and-white 4:3 aesthetics.

Outside of the current decade, Argentinian noir strikes again with the deliciously deranged La bestia debe morir, saved from oblivion thanks to collaboration of Fernando Martín Peña, the Film Noir Foundation, the UCLA Film & Television Archive, and the Hollywood Foreign Press Association. The Doll represents Ernst Lubitsch at his early silent film best. It is an uproarious time complete with Lubitsch’s sly visuals, but I’m not sure if I could recommend to it folks who haven’t seen a silent film. The Ladykillers drips with British wit as hideous violence threatens to burst through its comedic facade, all thanks to a stupendous ensemble performance. Edmund Goulding’s Nightmare Alley is superior to the Guillermo del Toro remake in almost all the ways that matter. Tyrone Power’s perhaps career-best performance powers a moody noir that always feels a little off-kilter. A Patch of Blue is understated, but intelligent filmmaking by Guy Green. Compassionate performances from Sidney Poitier and Elizabeth Hartman will steal hearts. And lastly, Sidewalk Stories is a neo-silent film from African-American filmmaker Charles Lane as a tribute to Chaplin’s The Kid (1921). But it works beyond as a tribute to Chaplin.

What a slate of ten this was.

Best Comedy

Father Goose (1964)

Glass Onion (2022)

The Ladykillers

A Mighty Wind (2003)

Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday (1953, France)

9 to 5 (1980)

The Oyster Princess (1919, Germany)

Pillow Talk (1959)

See How They Run (2022)

Start Cheering (1938)

As I say every year, this category is not so much looking for the “best” movie as it is awarding the movie that made me laugh the most. The Oyster Princess is the lesser of the two early Ernst Lubitsch movies I saw this year, but it was the more outrageous watch. This farce comedy sees an American heiress’ father attempt to purchase a husband for his daughter, but it does not according to plan. The Oyster Princess contained the best title card I saw in any silent film this year: “A foxtrot epidemic suddenly breaks out during the wedding.” Trust me, you have to see the film to get it. Just behind are Pillow Talk, The Ladykillers, and holiday phenomenon Glass Onion.

Best Musical

Babes in Arms (1939)

The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (1982)

Big Fella (1937)

The Gang’s All Here (1943)

Ladies of the Chorus (1948)

Le Million (1931, France)

Love Me or Leave Me (1955)

Meet Danny Wilson (1952)

Oliver & Company (1988)

The Wiz (1978)

This category advantages original musicals, not musical adaptations. If it’s a musical adaptation, it better be superbly filmed/adapted or else I’m gonna have a hard time making a case for it. The Gang’s All Here is a 20th Century Fox musical that combines both original songs and songs from other films from Fox’s back catalog (which, before and after the studio’s acquisition from Disney, was always difficult to access). A musical riot, big splashy fun, somewhat thanks to Busby Berkeley’s direction and signature choreography (see: the reprise of “A Journey to a Star”). I also considered Babes in Arms and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (an adaptation) for this award.

Best Animated Feature

All Dogs Go to Heaven (1989)

Belle (2021, Japan)

Flee (2021, Denmark)

Fortune Favors Lady Nikuko (2021, Japan)

Hilda and the Mountain King (2021)

Lightyear (2022)

Oliver & Company

The Rescuers (1977)

The Rescuers Down Under (1990)

Turning Red (2022)

No contest here. Nominated at last year’s Oscars for Animated Feature, Documentary Feature, and International Feature Film (the first time any movie had been nominated for that combination of categories), Flee is about a man who shares, for the first time in his life, his experiences about fleeing Taliban-controlled Afghanistan shortly after the Soviet withdrawal from the country. A pseudonym is used to protect his identity. Some might have quibbles with the film’s artistic style, but I’m of the opinion that the way the story is told far outstrips any concerns I have about the animation itself.

None of the other nominees came close to matching Flee. But I would consider The Rescuers (the 1977 original) to be the runner-up here. In a stronger year, no way would the scattershot Belle, emotionally unengaging Lightyear, and narratively lacking Oliver & Company stayed in this category.

Best Documentary

American Revolution 2 (1969)

Antonio Gaudí (1984, Japan)

Children of the Mist (2021, Vietnam)

A Crack in the Mountain (2022)

The Donut King (2020)

Flee

The Murder of Fred Hampton (1971)

Spellbound (2002)

Three Songs for Benazir (2021 short, Afghanistan)

Winter on Fire: Ukraine’s Fight for Freedom (2015, Ukraine)

Flee does the double. The competition here, however, is much closer than in Animated Feature. To me, the very close runner-up is the Grand Jury Trống Đồng Award for Best Feature winner from Viet Film Fest 2022 (yours truly is the Artistic Director), Children of the Mist. Hà Lệ Diễm’s feature debut follows the life of a 12, later 13-year-old Hmong girl living in far northern Vietnam. At 13 years of age, she might be subject to the tradition of bride-kidnapping in Hmong culture. The director is mostly an observer to what happens in the film. One wonders what would have happened to the film’s subject if the cameras were not there.

Next up after Children of the Mist would have been The Murder of Fred Hampton and the experimental Antonio Gaudí.

Best Non-English Language Film

Ala Kachuu – Take and Run (2020 short), Switzerland/Kyrgyzstan

La bestia debe morir (The Beast Must Die), Argentina

Buffalo Boy (2004), Vietnam

Drive My Car, Japan

Flee, Denmark

Ganashatru (An Enemy of the People) (1989), India

Loves of a Blonde (1965), Czechoslovakia

Memoria (2021), Colombia

Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday, France

Winter on Fire: Ukraine’s Fight for Freedom, Ukraine

Let’s spotlight a few others here I haven’t mentioned yet. Nguyễn-Võ Minh’s Buffalo Boy is a coming-of-age tale in far southern rural Vietnam that goes about its drama methodically, capturing a place and time so unlike anything you will find in the movies. Like an American Western, Buffalo Boy asks questions of morality and masculinity in an unforgiving landscape. Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot or Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday is Jacques Tati's introduction of his iconic character - the silent, pipe-smoking, behatted, clumsy M. Hulot. The best Hulot movie would come later, but so began the legend of one of the most important silent comic protagonists in filmmaking.

Best Silent Film

The Doll

The Oyster Princess

Sidewalk Stories

Three Women (1924)

I wasn’t too much a fan of Three Women, but I wasn’t able to get to many silent films in 2022. Hopefully that changes for the next year.

Personal Favorite Film

The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970)

Drive My Car

Glass Onion

Go for Broke! (1951)

Hilda and the Mountain King

The Ladykillers

The Masque of Red Death (1964)

Misterios de ultratumba (Black Pit of Dr. M) (1959, Mexico)

A Patch of Blue

Time After Time (1979)

I’ll always point out that the films I considered to be the best of what I’ve seen in a calendar year aren’t necessarily my favorites. Too many film critics conflate the quality of the films they see with their personal preferences. There’s a strict separation for me. This year, Roger Corman’s The Masque of Red Death - starring Vincent Price and distributed by American International Pictures (AIP) - takes the cake as my personal favorite. AIP made eight Edgar Allan Poe adaptations from 1960-1964; each one directed by Corman and starring Price, each one not strictly keeping to Poe’s text. I’m a fan of Poe, and don’t expect a strict adaptation from the AIP/Corman/Price movies. The garish Technicolor? The complete commitment to character from Price though he’s surrounded by other actors who can’t act half as good as him? The sumptuous costuming and production design for this gothic horror movie? Couldn’t get enough of it.

Close behind were Glass Onion and the delightful sci-fi Time After Time, which imagines what would’ve happened if H.G. Wells actually built a time machine and transported himself to late ‘70s San Francisco. Now only if they can get a home media release of Misterios de ultratumba with English subtitles, because what a treat that movie was.

Best Director

Román Viñoly Barreto, La bestia debe morir

Jane Campion, The Power of the Dog (2021)

The Daniels, Everything Everywhere All At Once

Edmund Goulding, Nightmare Alley (1947)

Ryûsuke Hamaguchi, Drive My Car

Ernst Lubitsch, The Doll

Alexander Mackendrick, The Ladykillers

Céline Sciamma, Petite Maman

Steven Spielberg, The Fabelmans (2022)

Jacques Tati, Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday

This category usually aligns pretty closely with Best Picture. Never nominated in this category and having never won before, it’s Ernst Lubitsch who takes Best Director this year for his saucy and vivacious silent romantic comedy. Lubitsch was a foundational director when it came to comedies in cinema, and I don’t a lot of contemporary filmmakers know enough about him or appreciate him enough. What an achievement too, to have made The Doll only a year after the conclusion of the Great War and the economic turmoil Germany was facing then.

Runner-up would have been Hamaguchi, and perhaps Mackendrick after that.

Best Acting Ensemble

The Ballad of Cable Hogue

The Banshees of Inisherin (2022)

Drive My Car

Everything Everywhere All At Once

The Fabelmans

Glass Onion

The Ladykillers

A Mighty Wind

Nightmare Alley (1947)

9 to 5

Hats off to the gangsters played by Alec Guinness, Cecil Parker, Herbert Lom, Danny Green, and Peter Sellers. And a huge ovation for Katie Johnson, who plays the old lady who gives their “string quintet” lodging. She is incredible and terrifically funny in this. Perfectly cast, incredibly acted, dripping with comedic sensibilities threatening to explode into violence (at least from the men’s side of things), they take Best Acting Ensemble.

This was a close call though, as several others had a shout to win here.

Best Actor

Austin Butler, Elvis (2022)

Soumitra Chatterjee, Ganashatru (An Enemy of the People)

Cary Grant, Penny Serenade (1941)

Alec Guinness, The Ladykillers

Narciso Ibáñez Menta, La bestia debe morir

Hidetoshi Nishijima, Drive My Car

Sidney Poitier, A Patch of Blue

Tyrone Power, Nightmare Alley (1947)

Jason Robards, The Ballad of Cable Hogue

Denzel Washington, The Tragedy of Macbeth

Arguably Tyrone Power’s finest few hours in any movie. As the scheming con man who stumbles his way into a carnival, this film is extremely removed from Power’s roles as crowd-pleasing, romantic, dark-and-handsome, swashbuckling heroes at his home studio 20th Century Fox. Power said later in life that Nightmare Alley was his favorite of all the films he made, and it is easy to see why.

I was also strongly considering Chatterjee, Menta, Nishijima, and Washington as well here.

Best Actress

Joan Crawford, Johnny Guitar (1954)

Doris Day, Pillow Talk

Irene Dunne, Penny Serenade

Elizabeth Hartman, A Patch of Blue

Katie Johnson, The Ladykillers

Frances McDormand, The Tragedy of Macbeth

Tôko Miura, Drive My Car

Barbara Stanwyck, No Man of Her Own (1950)

Michelle Williams, The Fabelmans

Michelle Yeoh, Everything Everywhere All At Once

So often the talk around Doris Day is to liken her to that “prudish innocent blonde that your mother/grandmother wanted to be”. That is reductive, and ignores her incredible dramatic (I almost double-nominated her here for Love Me or Leave Me, which was a dramatic role) and comedic talents. And she is something else here in Pillow Talk - a raunchy (for the time) romcom that helped contribute to the demise of Hollywood’s self-censoring Hays Code. Comedic timing? Perfect. Facial and bodily acting? Exactly what the part calls for and then some. Pillow Talk was the first of three groundbreaking romcoms she made with leading star Rock Hudson and supporting Actor Tony Randall (1961′s Lover Come Back and 1964′s Send Me No Flowers).

So many choices here, with almost every actress nominated here having a case to win it. This was a difficult decision.

Best Supporting Actor

Guillermo Battaglia, La bestia debe morir

Lyle Bettger, No Man of Her Own

Bobby Darin, Pressure Point (1962)

Troy Kotsur, CODA (2021)

Masaki Okada, Drive My Car

Nathán Pinzón, El vampiro negro (1953, Argentina)

Ke Huy Quan, Everything Everywhere All At Once

Tony Randall, Pillow Talk

Kodi Smit-McPhee, The Power of the Dog

David Warner, The Ballad of Cable Hogue

As I joke every year, this is the category that favors villains. The winner this year is no different. If you have seen Fritz Lang’s M (1931, Germany), then I don’t have to say much other than that Nathán Pinzón plays the Peter Lorre character in this adaptation of M. Pinzón was a longtime character actor well-known to Argentinian audiences, but virtually nowhere else. In Latin American cinema at this time, “melodrama” is not a pejorative term when it comes to the acting style. The default in this era is to be histrionic. So how startling it is to see Pinzón play his role - a serial killer - quietly, with sadness and pathos to spare. 

His countryman, Guillermo Battaglia, also has a loathsome part to play in another Argentinian noir, and was close to notching this win. So too were Quan and Warner.

Best Supporting Actress

Gloria Castilla, El vampiro negro

Kerry Condon, The Banshees of Inisherin

Aunjanue Ellis, King Richard

Kathryn Hunter, The Tragedy of Macbeth

Julie London, The Red House (1947)

Mercedes McCambridge, Johnny Guitar

Nina Meurisse, Petite Maman

Edna May Oliver, Drums Along the Mohawk (1939)

Park Yoo-rim, Drive My Car

Shelley Winters, A Patch of Blue

Fiery, antagonistic, scene-stealing. That’s Mercedes McCambridge in Johnny Guitar for you. In the battle of feminine Western intelligence and will, McCambridge’s character may be the loser in the end, but the performance is an absolute winner. Colored by repressed sexuality (which has lent many queer interpretations between her character’s relationship to Crawford’s) and a stiffness that works in the context of the film, this was a memorable performance from McCambridge. Condon, Ellis, Hunter, and London were my next choices.

Best Adapted Screenplay

Nguyễn-Võ Minh, Buffalo Boy

Hanns Kräly and Ernst Lubitsch, The Doll

Ryûsuke Hamaguchi and Takamasa Oe, Drive My Car

Satyajit Ray, Ganashatru (An Enemy of the People)

Miloš Forman, Jaroslav Papoušek, Ivan Passer, and Václav Šašek, Loves of a Blonde

Jules Furthman, Nightmare Alley (1947)

Guy Green, A Patch of Blue

Jane Campion and Thomas Savage, The Power of the Dog

Nicholas Meyer, Time After Time

Alberto Etchebehere and Román Viñoly Barreto, El vampiro negro

A touching, meditative from Hamaguchi and Oe gets the Adapted Screenplay crown, over very stiff competition. Closest competitors, to me, were Loves of a Blonde and Nightmare Alley.

Best Original Screenplay

Martin McDonagh, The Banshees of Inisherin

Ron Shelton, Bull Durham (1988)

The Daniels, Everything Everywhere All At Once

Steven Spielberg and Tony Kushner, The Fabelmans

William Rose and Jimmy O’Connor,The Ladykillers

Colin Higgins and Patricia Resnick, 9 to 5

Jordan Peele, Nope (2022)

Céline Sciamma, Petite Maman

Stanley Shapiro and Maurice Richlin, Pillow Talk

Charles Lane, Sidewalk Stories

Steven Spielberg has become so legendary, he’s come full circle: audiences and critics and historians now take him for granted. The Fabelmans remains in theaters as of the writing of this sentence, and it’s going to make very little money (blame COVID, a moviegoing culture that only goes to theaters when it’s mainstream American animation or superheroes, etc.). But it’s a beautiful screenplay from him and Kushner, exploring how filmmaking was a means that allowed him to understand his friends and family, and all the childhood trauma that emanated from both.

After that, I might have given this to The Ladykillers or Petite Maman on another day.

Best Cinematography

Alberto Etchebehere, La bestia debe morir

Yves Cape, Buffalo Boy

Hidetoshi Shinomiya, Drive My Car

Bert Glennon and Ray Rennahan, Drums Along the Mohawk

Harry Stradling, Sr., Johnny Guitar

Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, Memoria

Victor Herrera, Misterios de ultratumba (Black Pit of Dr. M)

Lee Garmes, Nightmare Alley (1947)

Ari Wegner, The Power of the Dog

Gabriel Figueroa, The Scapular (1968, Mexico)

In his first appearance in this category, arguably Mexico’s greatest cinematographer ever takes the prize. Figueroa started out as a still photographer when, in the 1930s, he was introduced to filmmaking by his friends. He took some time in the late 1930s to earn a scholarship and study under Gregg Toland (1940′s The Grapes of Wrath, 1941′s Citizen Kane) for one year. He came home to Mexico and became a black-and-white cinematography specialist. And in The Scapular comes some of the most evocative, terrifying, and awe-inspiring images I’ve seen in a black-and-white film. All this after that format was already losing momentum in Hollywood itself. Fantastic work.

After Figueroa, I was thinking  perhaps Mukdeeprom, Garmes, or Cape.

Best Film Editing

David Brenner, James Cameron, John Refoua, and Stephen E. Rivkin, Avatar: The Way of Water (2022)

Paul Rogers, Everything Everywhere All At Once

Sarah Broshar and Michael Kahn, The Fabelmans

Ray Curtiss, The Gang’s All Here

Bob Ducsay, Glass Onion

José Serra, La bestia debe morir

Pamela Martin, King Richard

Miroslav Hájek, Loves of a Blonde

Nicholas Monsour, Nope

Joel Coen and Lucian Johnston, The Tragedy of Macbeth

Best to watch it yourself and see what I mean. EEAAO would be an absolute mess without its terrific editing. Avatar, The Gang’s All Here, and The Tragedy of Macbeth were next considered.

Best Adaptation or Musical Score

George Burns, Babes in Toyland (1961)

Carol Hall, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

Charles Henderson and Alfred Newman, The Gang’s All Here

George Duning, Ladies of the Chorus

George Stoll and Robert Van Eps, Love Me or Leave Me

Eugen Illin, Loves of a Blonde

Tom Halm, A Mighty Wind

Ernest Irving, The Proud Valley (1940)

George Parrish, Start Cheering

Charlie Smalls, The Wiz

In a category that advantages original musicals over adaptations and combination scores or original and adapted musical, it’s an original musical mockumentary that wins here. If I learned anything about my followers over MOABOS, it’s that many of them don’t like American folk music. Alas, for the amount of songs composed for this film, and for the instrumental fidelity to the American folk tradition, A Mighty Wind blows the competition away.

Well, mostly. The Gang’s All Here and Love Me or Leave Me had a decent chance, too.

Best Original Score

Terence Blanchard, The Woman King (2022)

Elmer Bernstein, The Black Cauldron (1985)

Bruce Broughton, The Rescuers Down Under

Simon Franglen, Avatar: The Way of Water

Michael Giacchino, The Batman (2022)

Jerry Goldsmith, A Patch of Blue

Marc Marder, Sidewalk Stories

Miklós Rózsa, The Red House

Miklós Rózsa, Time After Time

Victor Young, Johnny Guitar

Okay, some of my friends, family, and followers didn’t like “Johnny Guitar”. But Victor Young’s score to that movie incorporated the central tune gorgeously across the film’s runtime. A rumbling, dramatic dynamo of a score fits the action and dialogue scenes beautifully, and wins for the second time in this category in as many attempts (in 2013, Young won for his score to another Western, 1953′s Shane).

Rózsa for Time After Time, Blanchard, and Franglen were also under consideration as the winners here.

Best Original Song

“I’ll Never Stop Loving You”, music by Nicholas Brodszky, lyrics by Sammy Cahn, Love Me or Leave Me

“Island in the Sun”, music and lyrics by Harry Belafonte and Irving Burgie, Island in the Sun (1957)

“Johnny Guitar”, music by Victor Young, lyrics by Peggy Lee, Johnny Guitar

“A Journey to a Star”, music by Harry Warren, lyrics by Leo Robin, The Gang’s All Here

“A Kiss at the End of the Rainbow”, music and lyrics by Michael McKean and Annette O’Toole, A Mighty Wind

“Love Survives”, music and lyrics by Al Kasha, Joel Hirschhorn, Mike Curb, and Michael Lloyd, All Dogs Go to Heaven

“9 to 5”, music and lyrics by Dolly Parton, 9 to 5

“Someone’s Waiting for You”, music by Sammy Fain, lyrics by Carol Connors and Ayn Robbins, The Rescuers

“Tomorrow is the Song I Sing”, music by Jerry Goldsmith, lyrics by Richard Gillis, The Ballad of Cable Hogue

“Why Should I Worry?”, music and lyrics by Dan Hartman and Charlie Midnight, Oliver & Company

My thanks again to those of you who participated in the Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song’s (MOABOS) tenth edition. I certainly hope you all had a lot of fun listening and watching, and that you might have learned something or became interested in a film along the way.

Details for this category here.

Best Costume Design

Christof Roche-Gordon, Death on the Nile (2022)

Catherine Martin, Elvis

Shirley Kurata, Everything Everywhere All At Once

Eugene Joseff, The Gang’s All Here

Uncredited, Ladies of the Chorus

Laura Nightingale, The Masque of Red Death

Luis Sequeira, Nightmare Alley (2021)

Uncredited, The Oyster Princess

Kym Barrett, Three Thousand Years of Longing (2022)

Gersha Phillips, The Woman King

Best Makeup and Hairstyling

Pat McNalley and Ruth Sandifer, Babes in Toyland

Pete Altobelli, Cindy Baggett, Marvin G. Westmore, Irene De’Atley, and Barbara Lorenz, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

Michelle Chung and Anissa Salazar, Everything Everywhere All At Once

Guy Pearce, The Gang’s All Here

Helen Hunt, Ladies of the Chorus

Uncredited, Le Million

Evangelina Garibay and Agripina Lozada, Misterios de ultratumba (Black Pit of Dr. M)

Carolyn Cousins, See How They Run

Lesley Vanderwalt, Three Thousand Years of Longing

Babalwa Mtshiselwa and Louisa V. Anthony, The Woman King

Best Production Design                                        

Kurt Richter, The Doll

Catherine Martin, Karen Murphy, Ian Gracie, and Damien Drew, Elvis

Rick Heinrichs and Andrew Bennett, Glass Onion

Jim Morahan, The Ladykillers

Lazare Meerson, Le Million

Tamara Deverell and Brandt Gordon, Nightmare Alley (2021)

Rochus Gliese and Kurt Richter, The Oyster Princess

Wilfred Shingleton, The Proud Valley

Roger Ford, Nicholas Dare, and Sophie Nash, Three Thousand Years of Longing

 Stefan Dechant, Jason T. Clark, and Christina Ann Wilson, The Tragedy of Macbeth

Achievement in Visual Effects

Avatar: The Way of Water

The Batman

Everything Everywhere All At Once

Nope

Robin Robin (2021 short)

Worst Picture

The Ancestral (2022, Vietnam)

The Black Cauldron (1985)

Don’t Look Up (2021)

Please no.

Honorary Awards

Aardman Animations, for their innovations in stop-motion animation

Sidney Poitier, for his trailblazing artistic and human accomplishments (posthumously)

FILMS WITH MULTIPLE NOMINATIONS (excluding Worst Picture; 56) Eleven: Drive My Car

Ten: Everything Everywhere All At Once

Nine: The Ladykillers

Seven: La bestia debe morir (The Beast Must Die); A Patch of Blue

Six: The Gang’s All Here; Nightmare Alley (1947); The Tragedy of Macbeth

Five: The Ballad of Cable Hogue; The Doll; The Fabelmans; Glass Onion; Johnny Guitar

Four: Ladies of the Chorus; Loves of a Blonde; A Mighty Wind; 9 to 5; The Oyster Princess; Petite Maman; Pillow Talk; The Power of the Dog; Sidewalk Stories

Three: Avatar: The Way of Water;The Banshees of Inisherin; The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas; Buffalo Boy; Elvis; Flee; Ganashatru (An Enemy of the People); Love Me or Leave Me; Le Million; Misterios de ultratumba (Black Pit of Dr. M); Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday; Nope; Oliver & Company; Three Thousand Years of Longing; Time After Time; El vampiro negro; The Woman King

Two: All Dogs Go to Heaven; Babes in Toyland; The Batman; Drums Along the Mohawk; Hilda and the Mountain King; The Masque of Red Death; Memoria; Nightmare Alley (2021); No Man of Her Own; Penny Serenade; The Proud Valley; The Red House; The Rescuers; The Rescuers Down Under; See How They Run; Start Cheering; Winter on Fire: Ukraine’s Fight for Freedom; The Wiz

WINNERS (excluding honorary awards and Worst Picture; 25) 3 wins: The Doll; Everything Everywhere All At Once

2 wins: Flee; La bestia debe morir (The Beast Must Die); Drive My Car; The Ladykillers; Nightmare Alley (1947)

1 win: The Batman; The Fabelmans; The Gang’s All Here; Johnny Guitar; The Masque of Red Death; A Mighty Wind; Nope; Le Million; The Oyster Princess; A Patch of Blue; Petite Maman; Pillow Talk; Robin Robin; The Scapular; Sidewalk Stories; Three Thousand Years of Longing; The Tragedy of Macbeth; El vampire negro; The Woman King

83 films were nominated in 26 categories.

[im-always-the-problem-its-me]

abigail hobbs and daddy issues.

these things are fueling me lately. HIS voice purrs with such nihilism. i am not a part of the 'all', HE tells me. but if i have to absorb one more generalization i might scream. i know people often speak from their jaded experiences. i have many myself. it's just adolescent the way i think 'am I like this?' 'does he think i'm really that difficult?'

good girls should never try to be bad. we get fucked up. we take hannibal lecter's hand when he offers it to us on the final step of the ladder downward. new daddies.

(i suddenly remember my abusive ex telling me his theories of all women seeking out their fathers as husbands or boyfriends and this was before he was abusive and how i saw my stepfather--who raised me and was the only dad i knew until this past decade--in his eyes when his hands were around my throat in a 'i'm going to kill you, bitch' way.)

abigail went from the arms of one serial killer into another's. but abigail is not the sacrificial lamb. will graham is. abigail is now the bait that she was accused of being for her father, garrett jacob hobbs.

i'm not in an abusive situation. i'm in an intense affair that's far enough away from me to be ephemeral. i just can't help how it stirs things up for me. i'm also being mentored by HIM. i used to think this would be the worst place to be considering how long we've known each other. i remember vowing to keep our art separated, but i can't deny that he knows what he's doing and the things he's saying echo that of my old teacher who highly encouraged my writing.

i DO need help. i've been stuck in the same creative rut for years and my attempts to claw my way out of it are mediocre at best. the effort is there.

i'm HIS fragile little teacup. but he'd be devastated if i broke and assures me it'll be intense but won't destroy me. every conversation is intense because we're cosmic twins. i trust him. i have since we were little kids. this is a sacred thing neither of us want to screw up and his advisement will only help me especially since i'm looking to broaden my work. i've got to get out of this 'i'll submit stuff eventually' hell. get to work, bitch. you need the dough.

autumn makes me rewatch Hannibal and since it's been so long and i'm in a different place since the last watch, i'm seeing a lot of shit that i'm absorbing personally.

i got a book about mothers and eating disorders i'm praying doesn't trigger a relapse. i've been good though. my weight is good. sure i can lose more, but ya know...i'm being good.

so yeah. writing every day. soaking in autumn inspo. listening to good music. watching good movies again.

i foresee good things.

[itsclydebitches]

Rewatching RWBY there's this chilling lack of empathy through the volumes that I used to just wave off. Yang has no empathy for Tai, Blake is just entirely about what Blake needs, Weiss almost kills a woman at a party and her takeaway is 'my dad is mean so I'm going to run away'. Qrow sinks hard into depression in vol. 6 and Ruby's reaction is to yell she's never needed him. No one has EVER helped a civilian. It's so prevelant. Knowing how 7&8 go really changes the earlier writing.

I think there was a great deal of well-written empathy in the early volumes — after all, this cast was designed as the kind, well-meaning heroes — but that care was expressed almost solely within the group itself. Ruby sits by Jaune in the hallway and says "Nope!" to his self doubt. Weiss offers Ruby a hand up after she fails to kill the death stalker. Yang seeks out Blake and gets her to open up about what's bothering her. Now, I want to emphasize that there's nothing inherently wrong with this. It actually makes perfect sense. These are our main characters and they're written as peers co-habiting the same space. Of course whatever emotional growth we get, which automatically includes moments of compassion, would be directed towards each other. Similarly, the dynamics originally introduced — that of teachers and parents — likewise (rightly) puts the burden on the adults to provide the comfort, not the other way around. Port snaps Weiss out of her arrogant mindset. Ozpin reassures Ruby about her leadership worries. Tai is there to support his daughter when she's recovering from a lost limb. That's the natural order of things, so to speak.

The problem, to my mind, begins to occur when the group exits those dynamics. They're no longer students, they're licensed huntsmen. They're no longer kids, but equals who never needed adults in the first place. They're no longer doing things for themselves and their friends on personal downtime, they're doing them for the community at large as a profession (to say nothing of the world-altering war they've insisted on shouldering responsibility for). That's what a huntsmen is meant to be, a defender of the people, not someone who uses that power for personal interests alone. All of this is a huge change from where we started out: cutesy kids going off on comparatively low-stakes adventures because one or more of their teammates are invested, only just beginning to realize that they're signing up for a job where their desires come second (that fireside conversation at Mountain Glenn).

This change invites — demands, really — that the audience read them differently too. Qrow's spiral in Volume 6 is a good example of this. If Ruby is demanding to be treated not just as an equal in terms of maturity and experience, but also as the primary leader of this group, then the viewer expects her to treat her uncle as an equal too, not dismiss his hardship. I've seen numerous fans defend that arc with some version of, "He's her uncle. He's supposed to take care of her. He's failing" but that, according to the show, is no longer the dynamic. Qrow is now just a member of Ruby's team, someone she's responsible for as their leader. It's easiest to see the problem if we switch out Qrow for any of the other members. If Blake developed a drinking problem, do we think Ruby would just shout at her until she magically got over it? If Jaune endangered the group, do we think they'd all be angry about it, rather than trying to figure out the source of what caused the mistake? We don't even need to think hypothetically for that one because we saw it on screen. Jaune attacked Oscar and drove him off, not just threatening him, but arguably endangering the whole team by requiring a search party. Fans have long insisted they had to steal that airship right then because being in Argus was too much of a risk, but if we buy that reading (which I personally don't, but), then that means Jaune made things exponentially worse by forcing them out into that super dangerous city, rather than allowing everyone to stay hidden inside. He made a massive mistake which, according to the logic of Qrow's arc, should be met with frustration, disdain, and eventual demands to get over his anger at Ozpin or ship out. But, of course, he received nothing but concern. Yang was worried about him, not Oscar. The search becomes about his grief for Pyrrha and his team's willingness (as well as Pyrrha's family member) to provide more comfort. Suddenly, the tendency to express care solely towards those within the group becomes a flaw the story won't acknowledge.

And then it spirals. The thing to remember is that no single act here is bad on its own, especially when we consider that yes, we want flawed characters. Rather, it's about the pattern. Ruby is allowed to get mad at Qrow for his behavior and chuck her scroll in frustration. She's human. I'd be crazy frustrated too. However, if Ruby is meant to be written as a caring, sympathetic character, she should not only respond to the situation with frustration, yelling, a refusal to listen, and demands that he follow her lead, no questions asked. We can, and should, acknowledge that Weiss was the victim during that party. Her father was hurting her, the woman was beyond insensitive, Weiss was triggered in regards to a horrific event, and her power acted on its own. However, if we want to write Weiss as a compassionate, mature huntress to-be, she should acknowledge that she nearly killed someone — even an asshole someone — and vow to work on her control because she's not willing to put someone in danger like that ever again. Both of these moments have a "They could have been handled better" response attached to them — the former more-so than the latter imo — but these moments are made far, far worse due to later events in the show, events where the characters are cruel without any justification attached. Weiss didn't mean to attack that woman, but she did mean to ignore Whitely and threaten him with her weapon. So once we see that, it informs our understanding of what came before it. "Oh. The fact that Weiss never reacted to nearly killing someone isn't just a bit of missed potential, it's an early indicator that she... doesn't seem to care. If she endangers people, threatens people... that's fine with her." The group has a right to be frustrated with Qrow. The group did not have the right to magically steal Ozpin's entire life story, assault him, and blame him for the world's problems until he felt his only course of action was to run from them. So when we see that it becomes, "Oh. The fact that the group treated Qrow so poorly isn't just a one-time mistake born of a stressful situation and young adults being out of their depth in regards to alcoholism. They really will just abandon anyone the moment they start making mistakes." Anyone outside of their group, that is.

To say nothing of how all of these moments interconnect. Yang's recovery isn't just about getting used to not having an arm, it's about getting used to having a new one. Weiss' party isn't just about nearly killing someone, it's about not committing manslaughter because someone else stepped in. The Volume 6 arc isn't just about trying to escape with the Relic, it's about trying to get it somewhere safe. Fans frustrated with Ironwood's treatment don't harp on these details out of some desperate attempt to make him look good post-murder spree, rather, they recognize that he's a character that's been around since nearly the beginning, originally written as a good guy, and thus has accumulated a number of key connections with the cast. So when none of those connections are acknowledged during an arc about trust... that makes the group look very uncaring. Yang doesn't care that he gave her the arm, Weiss doesn't care that he saved her from hurting/potentially killing someone, Qrow doesn't care that he's trusted Ironwood for years (in a rival-bros way) and that they've been heading towards him this whole time. And when Ironwood begins to spiral, they don't do anything to try and help him, let alone acknowledge that their own choices, that lack of trust and empathy, had a hand in getting them here. "But it's not their responsibility to fix him!" Isn't it? Even a little? Just as human beings seeing an ally struggling under horrific decisions and circumstances? Sure, they don't have to try... but that doesn't make them look very heroic to my mind. And we can't even shrug that off by simplifying things with, "Well, Ironwood is evil now so who cares about him." They simultaneously don't care about finding Qrow who is missing, then captured. They don't do anything to try and find their missing teammates, with the exception of sending May to do it instead. They don't help the army fight off the grimm. Don't try to make sure Pietro and Maria had portals to escape through. Barely hesitate when the newly resurrected characters goes, "Kill me. That's the easiest thing for everyone." And these are just a few of the big ticket moments. It doesn't even begin to cover all the details we get that paint a picture of, "Wow okay. They just really don't care about people outside the group, huh? I mean, they say they do, in a life-or-death way, but they're not putting forth effort to show it on a daily basis."

And if you pick up on all that, if you acknowledge how much the group has changed based on where they started out, you might wonder when in the world that started. Surely we didn't just flip a switch around Volume 6. So you re-watch early stuff and, sure enough, there are moments that feel like setup for what's to come later. Not intentional setup (quite obviously), but a lack of care towards details across the series that, once the dynamic changed, became far, far more pronounced. Characters should be at least somewhat recognizable from start to finish, especially characters who have only experienced about two years of in-world time, so if we now get to see Ruby blandly commenting on all the people who are dying, or Weiss using her weapon as a means of coercing her little brother into doing what she wants, or Yang and Jaune dismissing Ren until he gives in to their point of view... we're going to look for the beginnings of that behavior early on. As you say, we were able to wave all those little details off due to a number of important factors. Now though? Now they feel like they hold a lot more weight, simply by virtue of that early material proceeding what we have now.

[queeenpersephone]

An alternate universe from the “I Want to Believe” movie where, after Mulder shaves and they meet with Agent Whitney, instead of Scully being annoyed, she tells Mulder she just wants to get home to take advantage of his smooth face.

honestly where my mind immediately went... where your mind is anon... that’s the iwtb we deserved. so have the lead up to that. (also note: i haven’t rewatched iwtb, only the bed scene and select msr scenes, so i genuinely remember none of the dialogue just vague impressions) 

also sorry this is so introspective. it’s also 1am so i’m not even sure it’s introspective in a good way lmaO. 

-

The moment Agent Whitney reaches up towards Mulder’s face, Scully is onto her. 

Part of her can hardly blame the woman. Fox Mulder is a handsome man. A kind, brilliant, sexy man without ladder climbing ambitions is rare in the world Whitney inhabits; Scully would know. To suddenly be able to see a bit of sculpted jaw, that plump lower lip, would make even the most professional of woman swoon a little. 

The other part of her, the part of her who took Mulder’s heart and body for her own years ago, is itching for the gun she used to carry. Without it, she steps into Mulder’s space, ignoring the way he looks down at her in surprise and warmth. Maybe she should be slightly embarrassed that she’s seeking closeness for what is probably the wrong reason, but she’s not. 

Yes, Agent Whitney might be able to appreciate the clean shaven man who’s no longer hidden by a thick patch of hair. But Agent Whitney will never be able to appreciate what it means. 

Contrary to her soft protests in bed, Scully has never hated the beard. In fact, the beard complements the way he wears his hair now, longer and unkept, a sign of the years he’s spent hidden away in an office in a house where his name could never be on the deed. Mulder’s never been the cleanest, most organized individual by any means, but Scully has known since they met that he takes a certain pride in his appearance: his neatly pressed suits, his shapely calves built by years of running, his steady habit of shaving daily. 

Once they were on the run, however, all of that fell apart in a muddle of baggy, cheap clothes and dark circles and inexpensive hair dye. When they had settled, when Scully had gotten her job, she had pulled herself back together. But Mulder never had. There was nowhere to go, no one to see but her, and he had long stopped putting on airs for her. Would it have been nice to see him try sometime? Yes. Was she too busy basking in the fact they were alive and whole and together? Definitely.

She is somewhere between hurt and relieved that this foray back into the world that had burned them so thoroughly has catalyzed him into caring again. Because that’s what this is. It isn’t a meaningless shave, it’s a beaming message to the woman who has known him for over a decade now. This has brought him back to life. This has brought him back to life in a way she never could. 

She could embrace that fear that she’s not enough, the jealousy, even though Mulder had stepped away before Whitney could come anywhere near him. She could hit him where it hurts, she could beg him to leave this all behind and come home to her, with her. 

Or she could embrace the act, even if she’s resentful of the reasons. 

They watch Father Joe in silence for a long moment as Agent Whitney scurries off to see if he’s given them anything new. “I know what this is doing to you,” she says finally. 

He doesn’t look at her. “Do you?” He says evenly; in his tone, the words are barely a question. He knows her as well as she knows him, well enough to see her protests coming.

“I don’t want to regret bringing you out here,” she replies, watching his chest rise and fall. “This hasn’t been our job for a long time.” 

Finally, Mulder looks at her. “This is the right thing, Scully,” he says, emphatic, eyes shining, and all at once, Scully resigns herself to seeing this through. Sure, this is a psychic and a priest that molests children and dead FBI agents, but her current job is seeing her long-gone son in every sick child, so maybe it’s one half dozen or the other. Regardless, she can’t leave Mulder out here alone. She can’t leave him ever, not when that light is back in his eyes. 

Maybe it can chase away some of her darkness too. 

“Okay,” she says, not looking at him, but her clearly unexpected response is not one he will allow her to make facing away from him. He takes her arm, spins her in. 

“Okay?” He asks, shining eyes wide. 

“We’ll do this,” she tells him, reaching down for his hand with one of her own and reaching up to his face with the other. “But I won’t lose myself or you in it. So we do this together or not at all.” She softens. “Can you do that for me?”

Mulder sighs, leaning into her orbit. “Yes, Scully. I promise.” 

God, does she want to believe him.

She pushes the fear away and smirks instead, stopping him before he can make for Father Joe, who’s mumbling to himself a few yards away. “And Mulder?” 

He turns back to her, and she fits her tiny palm to his newly revealed skin, rubbing gently. He waits for her to speak. “We’re adding an activity back to our repertoire. Tonight. No excuses.”

He grins at her, slow and sure and god she has missed that bottom lip, she can feel its impact in her low abdomen, simmering with heat. “I knew you missed the best seat in the house,” he murmurs back to her, eyes hot and dark. 

“Mulder!” She chastises, even though she knows she started it, forcing back her blush as he fits his hand to her lower back and leads her over to their psychic witness. She refocuses. She promised to be present, to work this case, and she will, however much she fears what it might do to her. To him. To them.

Mulder’s hands find her back, her arm, her hands for the rest of the night. He treats her like a partner, a familiar dance that she’s missed more than she had thought. She exhales. 

Maybe they will survive this case intact. 

[kurinoot]

[day 8] eight soft dolls | oikawa tooru

-> you have traveled all the way to argentina to surprise something for your fiance this valentines — much to his horror

pairing: oikawa x reader

themes: fluff with some crack (I think? LMAO), post-timeskip

word count: 1946 words

note: this fic was too fun to write LMAOOOOOO

“Okay okay, thank you so much, Hajime!”, laughing as you ended the phone call with Iwaizumi on the line before grabbing your luggage, making way for the exit.

You’re finally here.

Oh my gosh how is Tooru going to react to this?, you internally laugh to yourself as the morning sunlight of Buenos Aires shines on you while you make your way out of the airport; thankfully, you were wearing appropriately for the weather, as Argentina in February proved to be sweltering hot. As you wore your sunglasses, you went into a nearby taxi.

Arriving at your boyfriend’s doorsteps, you fish the keys out from your pocket, unlocking your fiance's apartment door, and the scent of clean linen hits you right in the nose as you enter his living space. You immediately settle your baggage in the living room as you throw yourself on Tooru’s soft bed covers. You rest for a couple of minutes before grasping your phone out of your pocket, immediately texting your boyfriend something out of context, all according to your devious valentines plan.

The need to sleep washes over you, as you drown yourself in the plush covers of Tooru’s bed, inhaling its fresh laundry scent, but much to your dismay, you compelled to pull yourself out of bed as you grab that one baggage full of your plans for your fiance as you slowly unzipped it, smirking as you pull out other items to prepare a grand surprise for him.

Tooru won’t know what he’s gonna get., you laugh out in your thoughts.

Morning practice has ended as usual. Right after a series of cool-down exercises, Oikawa went for his water bottle, drinking a huge amount as he hydrated himself after a tiring practice. He reaches for his phone, hearing the familiar vibration of his phone as he opens it to his joy a message from you. He immediately checks your chat, only to see a photo of what looks like a doll of him, to which he raises an eyebrow in confusion.

He replies back, scoffing at the picture you sent him as he immediately closes his phone and returns it in his bag.

Knowing that woman… She’s probably onto something… but what could it be? He thought, recalling the picture as he grabbed a fresh shirt from his bag. “She’s just probably lonely without me, and bought a doll that captures my features. My poor sweet fiance~”, he laughs off as he goes for the restroom with his clothes. He washes his face quickly before removing his sweaty training clothes, and changes with a fresh white shirt and olive green cargo shorts. He packs his things before waving goodbye to his teammates with a casual “Adios!”

As he walks on his way home, he rechecks his phone again at the odd photo that you sent him. Yes, it’s a doll version of him, but he couldn’t help but feel creeped out by it. To his surprise, you sent him another picture of it, only a close-up, but this time, he felt his hair on his arms raise.

“Y/N-chan mi amor is probably just teasing me again.”, he huffs in mind as he hums, skipping on his way home.

As he reached the front door of his apartment, he felt his spine shiver and the growing unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t helping. His apartment door was slightly opened.

Someone could be in his house. 

He felt the need to call the police, but instead worked up the courage as he slowly opened the door. But before Tooru could enter, something hit him in the face.

“Wh-what the hell?!” Tooru swatted the object in front of him, only to reveal the familiar doll you sent to him earlier tied to the ceiling, connected to the knob. He grabbed the doll in anger as a torn paper suddenly fell from the plush.

‘mIss Me?’

He felt a wave of shiver in his spine as he clutched onto the doll, looking at it sinisterly. He tiptoed inside, not making a sound as he grabbed a nearby umbrella from a stand. His apartment was exactly as it was when he left. He looked around, seeing everything was in place. He creeped to the cupboards and closet in the living area to check for any signs of intruder. His anxiety grew as he inspected around, clutching onto the doll and the weapon. A wave of relief washed over him as he sighed when nothing was suspicious as of note. He wearily placed his sports bag on the sofa, crashing on his sofa. He inspected the doll, and upon closer look, the doll was wearing his old Aoba Johsai jersey.

The same doll you sent him a picture of earlier.

A sudden slow squeak was heard.

The door of his bedroom squeaked as it painfully opened ajar. Tooru’s petrified eyes turned towards the source that revealed another doll, standing as it looked at him. His instincts made him grab the umbrella as he made way to his bedroom. He picked up the plush, wearing a different uniform, his Kitagawa Daiichi uniform this time.

His eyes turned to his bed, six more dolls of him wearing different uniforms were scattered around on his bed. His grip on the umbrella loosened, letting it fall to the floor as he noticed how each doll wore different uniforms from his past. He noticed a large paper in the midst of the dolls, ‘Happy Valentines Day’ that was written in red ink that had Tooru back away from the bed to his closet.

Wait, Happy Valentines’ Day, mi amor?

Out of the blue, a hand suddenly clutched onto his shoulders, quickly wrapping around him as he screamed, pulling away from the arms. He ran for the door, but ultimately fell in the process. His attention immediately turned to the arms from his closet.

He immediately prayed at the closet as he pleaded and cried, “Please don’t kill me! I’m too beautiful to die! I have a fiance waiting for me on the other side of the world! At least let me marry her before you kill me! PLEASE!”

His train of thought got distracted as a laugh which was way too familiar for him entered his ears as you emerged from his closet, your phone peeking through the cracks of his drawer recording everything that happened.

“Long time no see, Tooru!”, you winked at his petrified state while laughing.

“Y-Y/N-chan? You-”, he cried out, pissed and shocked as you embraced him. “There, there, it’s all over now! See?” You reassuringly said as you patted his back. 

Letting go after a full minute of hugging. “Why would you do that?! You almost gave me a heart attack!” He cried. You laugh out with tears on your eyes, “You should have seen your face!” You hugged your stomach, not being able to bear the events that transpired. Tooru could only pout at your initial betrayal.

“So mean of you, Y/N-chan!” He watches you grab your phone from his drawer, laughing as he looks at you rewatching the entire scenario on your camera, replaying on specific parts that were deemed too unforgettable as your boyfriend could only stare at you in part amusement and betrayal.

“You’re enjoying this too much, mi cielo!”, he complains further, folding his arms.

“Of course I am! I mean, what’s a better way to surprise my dear fiance?”, you say as you hit send to the Seijoh group chat before Tooru snatches your phone away. 

He scrolled through the group chat as he looked at you again, pouting. “You, Iwa-chan and the others conspired?!”, you snickered as you scratched the back of your head.

“Oh Tooru my baby, I’m so sorry. I hope my presence here in Argentina makes up for it, though.”, you say, about to give him a hug once more, but he immediately pulled you to him, kissing you on the lips as he snapped a photo. He then sends the picture before looking at your flustered state with a smirk.

“Y/N-chan, from this day on, I forbid you from spending too much time with Iwa-chan and the others! Look what they influenced you with!”, he angrily said, before looking at you with his famous serious eyes, sending chills to your spine. “You’re mine, got it?”

You raised your hands in defeat, “Alright, alright, I got it, babe.” You grabbed his hand, leading him to the kitchen. “Now come on, I’ll cook something for us to make up for the emotional damage I’ve caused you.”

He snickers as he continued, “While I do appreciate you cherishing my beautiful existence like this, where did you even get those dolls?”, emphasizing on the dolls with spite.

You show off a smirk as you tease him, “Oh you know, Iwa-chan was very willing to help me out, and the others too. Looks like seeking their help was worth it!”.

Ah, of course, Iwa-chan has something to do with this., he thought.

He pouts as he looks at you. “I sometimes wonder, why did I even fall for a weirdo like you?”.

You laughed at him, “Well, the thing is, Tooru, I’ll be your weirdo forever!”, as you flash him the diamond engagement ring that he proposed to you after his team won the Olympics a few months ago. Oh what a blissful moment.

Argentina wins the final game as a final spike seals the deal, with strings of sky blue, white and yellow confetti flying around the stadium. The Argentine Volleyball Team runs to each other, hugging and crying in victory as they pat each other in the back. The roaring cheers of the Argentine audience further overwhelms the team in celebration as the rest of the team finally knocks on their setter Oikawa, reminding him of something.

“It’s finally time, Tooru.”, one of his teammates tells him as he looks at your direction, who’s currently looking at the entire team in sheer joy from the stands. Oikawa immediately feels the anxiety, with a lump forming in his throat as he carefully grabs the box from the bench to make sure you don’t see it. To his surprise, you were gone from where you were standing earlier and now he sees you running straight to his direction.

“Congrats, my baby!”, you scream as you hug him tightly albeit his sweaty figure.

He hugs you back, “Thank you, mi cielo!”.

As the team looks at you guys from afar, they quickly disperse back to the bench to give their beloved setter a spotlight. One of them gives him a microphone, much to your curiosity.

“Y/N-chan! I’m so thankful for your love and support for the past years that were together. And now that I’m getting a gold medal, I was also wondering if you’re willing to accept my last name as a gold medal.”, he says on the microphone as he slowly kneels in front of you, prompting you to cover your mouth in shock.

Tooru then opens the red velvet box for you to see a diamond engagement ring sparkling beyond your wildest dreams, “W-Will you marry this idiot, Y/N mi amor?”.

Cheers went louder as tears began welling up in your eyes, processing what is just happening in front of you. The Argentine setter looks at you anxiously before you finally nod in tears, “Yes Tooru my idiot, I will marry you!”.

“Well I suppose, we can be weirdos together forever, right mi cielo?”, he replies, kissing your ring as the memory makes him smile. You proceed to give him a kiss on the cheeks, smiling in return.

back to valentines masterlist

[miracleonice87]

Full of Surprises

a Matthew Tkachuk one-shot

a/n: I rewatched the Tkachuk family Spittin Chiclets interview this morning from the All-Star game in St. Louis and it got me in my Matty feelings. Here’s a proposal story full of fun surprises. Enjoy!

warnings: just swearing — otherwise, total and complete fluff

_____

“Do they know?” I whispered, one arm entwined with one of Matthew’s as both of us stared at the glimmering ring on my left hand.

“Does who know?” Matthew asked in a matching whisper, ducking his head in front of my face. I knew just what he was after — I placed a kiss on the top part of his ear, his favorite, and allowed my tongue to dart out just slightly, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Does your family know?” I clarified as he sat up straight, smirking at me.

We were flying first class, headed to the Tkachuks’ summer home in Cape Cod. I knew that his parents and both of his siblings would be there, but had no concept of how many of them, if any, knew of the engagement that had begun only about eight hours beforehand, on the beach in Bimini.

What I had seen simply as a much-needed getaway from Matthew’s rigid summer workout schedule and from my own bustling days as a graphic designer had quickly turned into the official start of a lifetime together, complete with a Bahamian backdrop.

Matthew shook his head. “No, they have no idea,” he informed me as he pressed a kiss to my temple. I nuzzled my head against his bicep and let my eyes flutter closed, partially in bliss and partially because Matthew and I had gotten maybe two hours of sleep total since the moment he proposed, what with all the celebrating the two of us had done in our hotel room.

I was suddenly so anxious to share our news with our loved ones, starting with Matthew’s family. I smiled at the thought of rehashing the story for any and all who wanted to hear it.

_____

“Matty...” I whispered, tears swiftly filling my eyes and an enormous lump sneaking into my throat.

Matthew had suggested a walk on the beach following our final dinner at the Bimini resort, where we had we spent the evening holding hands over a candlelit table on a private balcony of one of the resort’s fabulous restaurants. After we finished our seafood dinner entrees, he had fed me my half of a delectable piece of chocolate cake as we laughed together behind glasses of red wine.

Little did I know that the sweetest treat was about to come.

Here he was, kneeling in the sand before me, holding a black velvet box, propped open to display the most gorgeous oval-cut diamond ring I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Matty,” I repeated, this time aloud, as I found my voice again. I took a cautious step toward him and wrapped my hands around his outstretched wrist.

“Taylor... baby?” Matthew prompted, his voice strained, shaky. I suddenly realized that the man in front of me had just poured out his soul to me — promising forever, promising a home together, promising a shared legacy of love, joy, and children. And I had yet to give him the answer he was seeking, or any answer at all. His question hung in the ocean air — time stood still.

“Yes! Oh, yes, Matty, yes! Of course!” I choked out, both of us suddenly overcome with nervous and relieved giggles. He sprung to his feet to kiss me, taking my face in his hands and giving me a firm, lingering kiss.

“Can I put the ring on you now?” Matthew asked when he finally pried his lips away from mine. It was then that reality hit and the tears started to flow.

“Yes! Yes, baby.” I held out a shaking left hand to him, which he stroked with his thumb and kissed sweetly before pulling the ring from the box and slipping it onto my finger.

“Oh, my god, it fits perfectly! It’s so beautiful, Matthew!” I exclaimed, gasping at how truly remarkable it looked on my hand. I had imagined what this moment would be like for so many years, ever since I was a young girl with blue glasses in Mrs. Kingsley’s first grade class at McKinley Elementary, watching Matthew play tag from across the playground. The gravity of this moment overwhelmed me and exceeded my every long-held expectation.

The tears continued as I held my hand up to Matthew, showing off my newest accessory. He grinned widely.

“Stay right there, baby,” he instructed, fumbling for his phone in his shorts pocket. “I wanna remember this.” He eventually retrieved the device from his pocket and snapped a quick photo of the momentous occasion before putting his phone away once more. He pulled me in close, our chests flush against each other, hearts racing, and we shared dozens more kisses and laughs there on the shore, both realizing that our forever started tonight.

_____

“Are you happy?” Matthew whispered. My eyes opened and I turned my face up toward his.

“Am I happy?” I asked with an incredulous scoff. “Baby, I’m the happiest,” I reassured. “You make me the happiest.” I sat up further in my plane seat and kissed his cheek, and he smiled down lazily at me. “Good. That’s all that matters to me,” he said.

“Are you happy?” I countered.

He waited a beat, looking deeply into my hazel eyes. “The happiest. The luckiest,” he whispered, stroking my chin with his thumb. I kissed the digit as we stared at each other in content, peaceful silence.

_____

An hour later, our flight landed at Boston Logan Airport. Matthew picked up our suitcases from baggage claim, and we were off to join the Tkachuks at the Cape.

I placed my aviators on my nose as I walked through the automatic doors at the airport’s exit, my newly dubbed fiancé just a step behind me.

“Where’s the car?” I asked over my shoulder, knowing that Matt had arranged for his usual car service to pick us up and haul us to the vacation home.

“Oh, uh... right there.” Matthew threw his head casually in the direction of a black stretch limousine further down the pickup lane. My jaw went slack.

“Matty...” I whispered, peering at him over my sunglasses. “You never get a limo!” He threw his head back in an easy laugh. “Well, I never get engaged, either! Until now,” he remarked. He kissed my cheek and patted my ass lightly with the closed hand that also held his duffle.

“Now, come on, my bride-to-be,” he encouraged. “We’ve got places to be.” I shook my head in disbelief as he sauntered toward the limousine.

_____

Just over an hour later, Matthew and I were pulling into the driveway of the beautiful summer home his family had owned for years. My heart flooded with anticipation. I could not wait for us both to go bounding into the house with our big announcement and be surrounded by loved ones.

“Should I wear my ring? Or should I try and hide it somehow?” I asked quickly, turning toward Matthew as I finished applying some lip gloss, the last step of freshening up my appearance after a long flight.

“You can do whatever you wanna do, babe,” he said, leaning forward and insisting on kissing my freshly-glossed pout. He licked his lips immediately and moaned. “Mmm, peppermint,” he said in a low voice. I chuckled and placed a hand against his cheek, knowing we were sure to celebrate the occasion alone many more times throughout tonight, hopefully after some rest.

“I’m just gonna wear it,” I told him. A grin spread wide across my face as I added, “I’m not gonna be able to keep the news in for long anyway.” Matthew smiled brightly. “Me either, T. Me either,” he told me, kissing my left hand as he had countless times already.

I drew a deep breath and smoothed my fingers over the fabric of my white sundress as the car pulled to a stop in the circular drive in front of the house. It was only when I looked out the window that I noticed all the cars parked alongside the perimeter that I had apparently been too busy to see while primping.

“Matty... what are all of these cars doing here? Who’s here?” I asked softly, frozen, eyes wide. Matthew’s smirk overtook one side of his face.

“Why don’t you go see, babe?” he prompted. I opened my mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to do, or say, or even think.

“Okay,” I finally whispered, taking the hand he had offered me as we moved out of our seats, leaving our belongings behind.

Hand in hand, we walked into the breezeway and through the side door of the house. It was... empty?

I looked up at Matthew, about to ask again why there were so many vehicles in the drive, when a familiar voice called out to us from the back porch.

“Out here!” Chantal...

Matthew was now openly beaming at me, ornery chuckles racking his chest as he gently guided my rigid form to the back sliding glass door. One glance outside stole my breath.

All of his family, all of my family, and dozens of our friends and his teammates stood together in the yard, crowded around tables decked in white, with bundles of silver and white balloons tied together with gold tulle scattered across the lawn. Among the balloon bunches were giant helium-filled diamond rings, and a banner reading “Congratulations, Matthew and Taylor!” was draped across the front of the cabana by the pool.

From where I stood just inside the door, I saw all four of the Tkachuks, my parents, my brother Sean, and my sister Erin huddled together on the deck, the other guests in the yard below starting to cheer as Matthew tenderly pulled me outside. “Come on, babe,” he coaxed with a smile. “There are some people here to see you.”

Tears stung my eyes as I finally stepped outside, clutching Matthew’s hand tightly, fully relying on him to support me and hold me up, both physically and emotionally, just as he always had.

My mom stepped forward from the group first, cupping my face in her hands, tears falling freely onto our cheeks.

“Mommy... you knew!” I said breathlessly. My dad came toward me next, eyes damp, kissing the top of my head. “You all knew!” I exclaimed, loudly enough that many of our other guests several yards away started laughing.

“We knew, sweetheart. Your wonderful fiancé has had all of this planned for quite some time!” my mother explained, pulling away from a tight hug.

“I can’t believe you came all the way from St. Louis!” I told my parents. With a squeeze of my hand, my dad said, “Of course we did. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I threw my arms around them once more, then turned to Keith and Chantal, the sight of them causing me to cry harder.

“Oh, honey! Don’t cry! We’re so happy for you guys,” Keith told me, pulling me close for a hug and kiss on the cheek, his chest vibrating with laughter, as Chantal put her arms around both of us. “So happy, Taylor,” she said, her voice tight as tears escaped her.

Matthew came toward us, having already been greeted warmly by his parents and siblings, and rubbed my back soothingly, his siblings in tow. “I would say welcome to the family, but you’ve already been part of the family for years now, so congratulations, T!” Brady mused, ducking past his brother to wrap me in a suffocating hug, lifting me slightly off the ground.

“Don’t break my sister!” Taryn warned, swiping under her damp eyes. The three of us laughed together, Brady slinging an arm around my shoulder while Taryn enveloped me warmly, sobs shuddering our shoulders. “You’re marrying my stupid brother! What the hell,” she laughed. I pulled back and looked at her with a giddy chuckle. “What the hell!” I echoed emphatically.

Matthew laughed along as he pulled away from hugging both my siblings, who then stepped forward to greet me, Erin squealing as the three of us jumped up and down a few times, arms circling one another. Matthew put his arms around my waist after Erin and Sean each hugged me and kissed my face, rushed words of congratulations and disbelief flying from their lips, as if they’d been holding them in for ages. I leaned back against Matthew’s chest for a moment before turning in his grasp.

“They all knew,” I said in awe. “Everybody knew!” Matthew nodded, carefully swiping his thumb under my eyes so as not to completely wreck my makeup. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell them yourself, but I just wanted everyone to be here with us to celebrate,” he said.

“Matty, don’t you dare apologize! The last twelve hours have made me so goddamn happy — I can’t even explain it,” I told him, gripping his white button-down at his waistline as I kissed him firmly, his insistence about the two of us wearing similar outfits for the flight home finally making sense.

“Me too, Taylor. Honestly. I just wanna spend the rest of my days making you as happy as I possibly can,” he told me, his blue eyes sparkling from a few happy tears.

I could not believe that my strong, stubborn, sassy fiancé was crying again for the second time in less than one full day. I kissed the tip of his nose and tucked some of his hair behind his ear.

“You are just full of surprises, Matthew Tkachuk,” I told him, slinging my arms around his neck.

He angled his face closer, stopping just short of pressing his lips on mine.

“You sure you’re ready for a lifetime of me, future Mrs. Tkachuk?” he asked. My heart soared. He guided my hips to sway back and forth gently, the sort of natural, comfortable, everyday dance I was fully prepared to enjoy for the rest of time.

“Hell yeah,” I mumbled against his lips, joyful tears springing to my eyes once more, as our mouths finally met.

[obxcunt]

Love bites || (1)

pairing: jj maybank x reader [eventually] || rafe cameron x reader [currently]

warnings: smut, death, cursing, drugs, alcohol, typos.

summary: it was supposed to be a good summer for you, the last one in the obx before going to college, the last one with your friends and family. Unfortunately, a sudden and mysterious death is about to completely change your life, pushing you directly into a brand new world and into a very sexy vampire’s arms.

A/N: i’ve been obsessed with vampires for a while, also started rewatching buffy recently. I really wanted to give you guys some vampire shit since i was in the mood for it. This is part one of my new series, let me know what you think, all characters are 18+.

masterlist || part two

“Today, we are still looking for the animal who brutally killed a teenage boy on Friday night, around midnight. The police department is asking our citizens to be extremely vigilant. A curfew might be installed for the next few days, until the end of the police’s researches—"

“Jesus…” Your mother murmured, turning off the tv. “This is scary, how are we supposed to feel safe right now?” You sighed, looking at the delicious meal in front of you, your fork wandering through it. “This thing, could be anywhere—” She paused. “Well, probably not on Figure Eight. I feel so bad for this family, maybe we should do something for them—”

“Like, what?” Your father asked, frowning. “Are you going to make them a cake with: I’m genuinely sorry about your son’s death?” He grabbed the wine, again. “Leave them alone, we already have someone to handle here.”

You rolled your eyes, taking the hint. “Alright, can you guys stop doing this?” You asked, dropping your utensils, the sounds making your mother jump. “I’m literally sitting next to you.” You father sighed, drinking and looking away. “I’m fine.”

“Well, you won't leave this goddamn house until they catched that thing.” Your father stated. “It's too dangerous.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?” You laughed nervously, glancing back and forth between your parents. “You can't be serious! I— I’m not gonna stay here all summer. I have plans, with my friends and—” You turned to your mother, seeking support. “Mom, please!”

She sighed, looking down. “It's only for the nights, sweetheart.” You father groaned, focusing on his meal. “Come on, it's her last summer before going to college.”

“But, wait!” You said, realization hitting you. “I won't be able to party with my friends then—” You father laughed, pointing at you with the knife he had in hand. “That's not fair—”

“That's right, no more parties for you.” He said. “I’d love to know what you were doing on The Cut, the other night. Since when is my daughter hanging out with Pogues?” You sighed, throwing the napkin before leaving the table.“Where do you think you're going?”

“In my room!” You shouted, walking towards the door. “Is it good enough for you? It's on Figure Eight, after all.” You turned around, crossing your arms. “I’m old enough to choose my friends, aren't you tired of judging them?” He rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed. “I wasn't even hanging out with Pogues on Friday night. I was with Rafe, Topper and… Kelce.”

“Right.” He said, wiping his mouth. “Then tell me, what were you doing? If you were hanging out with them, how did you not see—”

“I already told you!” You shouted, losing your composure. “I was with Rafe, we were walking back to his car, we both wanted to leave.” Your mother sighed, drinking. “Whatever, you guys never believe me anyway.”

“Y/N…” Your mother trailed off.

“Probably because you're constantly lying and hiding things!” Your father added, and at this point you knew it was better for you to leave the room.

“I learned from the master himself.” You said, before exiting the kitchen, ignoring him. “Cheating asshole...” You murmured on your way to your bedroom.

It’s true, you were supposedly going to leave with Rafe that night, when you both left the boneyard. However, as soon as you both entered the truck: you magically ended up riding the Kook boy, under the influence.

“Shit-” He moaned, his hands slightly bruising your hips as you bounced on his dick, holding on his shoulders for dear life. “Fuck, Rafe!” You cried, bare chest pressed against his, moaning close to his ear: the sound driving him crazy. His hands moved, caressing your body, his eyes shutting down in a soft whine. You moaned loudly, head falling backwards, giving him enough space to kiss your chest. “Fuck— You feel so good, Y/N.” He said, pounding into you harder, the movement making you fall on him again. You smiled against his neck, ready to answer him before hearing a scream, the sound ruining the moment. “Wait, wait, wait—” You said, panic taking over you. You moved, your back hitting the steering wheel, making Rafe laugh. “What's wrong, Y/N?” He asked, the both of you panting as your hands moved along his toned chest. “You heard that, right?” You asked, the moonlight barely lighting his features through the fogged windows. “Well, of course.” He said, smirking. “I think everyone heard you.” You sighed, smacking his sweaty skin. “I’m serious, Rafe! Someone bloody screamed outside.” He nodded, kissing your forehead. “Relax, baby. It's probably just people messing around.” You weren't convinced by that. “Hey, i’m gonna check, okay?” He said, feeling bad as soon as you started biting your nails. You nodded, moving back to the passenger seat, putting your clothes on. “I’m coming with you.” You opened the door, quickly running to him. “I don't think it's a good—” You held his hand, shutting him off. You both walked around the deserted place, approaching the woods, searching through the darkness, the cold air and a bunch of noises giving you goosebumps. “Wait, what's that?” Rafe asked, stopping along the way to the beach, noticing a body laying on the ground. “Rafe—” You felt your heartbeat increasing, letting go of his hand. “Stay behind me, Y/N.” He said, swallowing hard and approaching it. “Holy shit.” You murmured, covering your mouth as tears emerged from the corner of your eyes, recognizing Kelce’s face, strange marks covering his neck. “Call the cops, Y/N.” Rafe murmured, panic slowly invading him as well. “Go back to the fucking car and call someone, Y/N!” He shouted, kneeling down next to his friend’s body. You walked backwards, almost tripping over something before running back to his truck. You opened the door in a rush, searching for a cellphone. “Shit—” You murmured, shaking as you composed the number. “911, what's your emergency?” A woman asked. “I— My name is Y/N/ L/N, we need an ambulance or the cops, anyone—” You paused, breathless. “Okay, slow down, can you explain to me, what's going on?” “We found a dead body, on our way to the beach, it's our friend—” You suddenly paused, hearing a noise behind you, the sound making you turn around in a silent scream, your eyes scanning the environment in panic, heart pounding against your chest. “Ma'am, are you okay? Can you hear me?” The woman asked, still waiting on the phone. “Shit, I—” You breathed in and out, trying to contain the urge to cry. “We need help, right now, please!”

You turned on the lights, entering your bedroom and closing the door behind you, laying against it in a sigh. You looked over the window, familiar sounds catching your attention: a few knocks, followed by whispers. You moved towards it, a bit anxious as you pulled up the curtains: relaxing as soon as you recognized Rafe’s face.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” You asked, opening the window and watching the tall boy coming inside. “I’m pretty sure we still have a front door.” You added, closing it.

“You're not answering my calls or texts—” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I was worried.”

“I’m really sorry, Rafe.” You simply replied. “I— I wasn't in the mood to talk. Things have been pretty crazy lately, especially since—” You sighed, crossing your arms. “Kelce's death and the funeral.”

“I missed you, a lot.” He admitted, surprising you. “I know we are not dating or anything but—” You looked down for a second, a bit embarrassed. “We are still friends, right? I missed my friend.” He cleared his throat, fleeing your gaze. “Anyway, we are having lunch at my house tomorrow, everyone is going to be there. It's for Kelce, do you—”

“I’ll come, of course.” You cut him off, giving him a tiny smile.

“Promise me to be careful, out there.” He said, hands cupping your cheeks. “I already lost one of my best friends.” He tried to kiss you, craving your softness but you moved, making this awkward. “Wow, okay...” He said, laughing nervously.

“Fuck, Rafe—” You sighed, rubbing your face. “I— I can't do this right now. It's too much. My parents are on my back constantly, you probably should leave before they—”

“Your parents love me, Y/N!” He said, sighing as you refused to match his enthusiasm. “Okay, it's fine. I can’t stay any longer, Topper is parked in the street, waiting for me. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“That's very sweet.” You said, pushing up on your toes and kissing his cheek, the action making him blush right away. “Be careful, alright? Stay on Figure Eight, it's safer apparently.” He nodded, opening the window himself.

You watched him leave, closing the window behind him as he walked back to Topper’s jeep. Once they were gone, you looked down, noticing a silhouette standing in front of your house, the darkness hiding his identity.

“What the fuck—” You murmured, turning off the lights and shutting down the curtains. A few seconds later, you lifted the curtains a bit, (curiousty teasing you) searching for the stranger’s presence but there was nothing: they were gone.

———————————————————————

A/N: I’m so excited about this series, comment if you want to be add to the tag-list! I’ll post the next part this week!

[carriagelamp]

Since it’s Pride Month, I decided this year I wanted to raid the library for a bunch of different queer books to read. Mostly graphic novels in this case, because I’ve had a hard time settling into much reading lately... thought hopefully now that it’s summer and I finally have my second shot I’ll be able to relax a bit more and dig into some heavier novels again. For now, enjoy some light, queer reads that I indulged in this June.

A Wolf Called Wander

A beautiful novel I had been hearing lots about. This story follows the young wolf Swift, who grows up knowing that he and his pack are the mountains, and the mountains are them. It’s in those mountains that he grows and learns and loves… until disaster strikes and he finds himself viciously torn apart from his family and forced out of the mountains that have always meant home to him. Forced to survive on his own. Swift then begins a gruelling journey that makes him face injury, starvation, and the everpresent danger of humans as he seeks a new place he can call home, and new people with whom he can form a pack.

This is all based on the true story of a tagged wolf known as OR-7, following the unbelievable route he took through Oregon and northern California! It was a very neat read, and I’d definitely recommend it if you enjoy stories told from an animal’s perspective because this book is a master class in it.

Bloom

I decided for June to try to read a handful of different queer books, and this was one of the first graphic novels I picked up. It is a super sweet story and the art is lovely. It’s about Ari, a boy who has just graduated high school and is now desperate to move away from his small town and his family’s struggling bakery, to join his band in the city where they hope to make it big. An agreement is finally reached: Ari’s father will let him leave, if he can find someone who can replace him in the bakery, which is how Ari meets Hector, someone who sees artistry and peace in baking. For anyone that’s read Check, Please, it gives off those types of vibes!

Boule et Bill: Bill est Maboul

Another book of Dupuis comics, because I can’t get enough of them! This one I just stumbled across and ended up reading on a whim but it was very cute. Geared younger than the others I’ve read, but still quite funny. It’s the charming hijinks of a young boy, his dog, and the family they live with. Each page or so is a different stand alone joke, a bit like Calvin and Hobbes except expanded beyond a single strip.

Chicken Run: Chicken Pies for the Soul

This was a ridiculous urge I got and had to follow. I recently rewatched Chicken Run (which is, of course, one of the best movies ever made) and felt the need to see if it had ever been novelized. Well, I found something better than a novelization! This is a chapter book with “advice” and stories written by the various characters, post-movie. It really does a good job with grasping the different characters’ voices and making something simple and funny out of it. It was very cute (and available on The Internet Archive if anyone else feels like reading something ridiculous!)

Doodleville

I picked this up on a whim and honestly, I shouldn’t have bothered. It was not very impressive. Very mediocre, awkward feeling artwork, and a story that only slightly manages to redeem it. The concept was kind of neat, and I did like how the ending came about, the rest was rather… plodding. I did not like the main character at all, her friends felt very Intentionally Quirky Aren’t We Cute :3 in a way that just tries too hard, and… yeah. Meh. It technically gets the “queer graphic novel flag” but it’s so in-passing that it feels rather excessive to give it that.

If you are interested, it’s about a world were doodles actually exist as living creatures that can be drawn into existence (the rather unsettling implications of which is never fully explored). This is all well and good, until the main character draws a monster and takes it with her to her art club... where it begins ravanging not only her doodles, but those of her friends. Together they need to work together to figure out how to stop this menace.

FRNCK v4

Phenomenal. I adore the FRNCK series, and book four wrapped up the first “cycle”, revealing several of the big secrets dogging the series so far, and changing how things are going to be able to run in the future.

If you haven’t seen me talk about it before, FRNCK is a graphic novel (a franco-belgian bande dessinée) about a young orphan, Franck, who’s chafing under the constant parade of uninterested foster parents that visit the orphanage he lives in. Determined to learn about his mysterious abandonment instead, he flees the orphanage… but finds himself tumbling through time, landing among a family of cave-people who rather reluctantly take him in and ensure this modern boy doesn’t die in the strange, dangerous new surroundings he finds himself in. You can get these ones in English as e-books, so if you want a really kickass graphic novel series to read please try these.

Haikyu!!

I’ve heard so much about Haikyu!! that I finally gave in and picked up the first book from the library. And I gotta say, it’s well worth the hype! This series really does capture the best parts of a good sports manga -- which is to say the team is filled with interesting, enjoyable character who all need to learn to pull together, boost each other’s strengths, and cover for each other’s weaknesses. Love me some found family tropes and this series oozes it in the best possible way. And then you also get some very cool action scenes as it makes high school volleyball seem like the most intense thing on earth. I can’t wait to continue it

Queer Eye

I haven’t been keeping up with Queer Eye but I was watching it ravenously when it first came out, and this seemed like a very cathartic book to read… and it really was. It had the same gentle, loving encouragement as the show. It doesn’t expect you to change your entire life, but to learn to embrace who you are, and take small steps to enhance those things. There a segment written (presumably) by each member of the Fab Five, explaining the mentality behind what they do on the show and how you can grow in those areas too. It’s very zen.

Spinning

I got this graphic novel out at the same time as Bloom, but it was the one that interested me less of the two... though that’s just because I have less interest in “real world” slice of life as a genre and this one is meant to be autobiographical. If you’re into that, you’ll probably love this because it really is stunning. Very pretty, and the format and pacing is all really well done. It’s a coming of age story for Tillie as she grows up dealing with a crosscountry move, complicated friendships, a burgeoning attraction to girls, and attending competitive figure skating classes.

This Place: 150 Years Retold

A stunning and heart-wrenching graphic novel told by a collection of different First Nation’s authors/artists, recounting oral histories about the 150 years since the colonialist formation of the country known as “Canada”. In other words, this is a post-apocalypse story, but one that really happened and that entire peoples are still fighting to survive. It’s very eye opening and beautifully told. Very strongly recommend the read, especially if you’re at all interested in history.

Torchwood: Serenity

Whoops, not technically a book. I had thought these were technically audiobooks at first, but rather they’re audio dramas that were played on the radio. Still, I decided to include one because I’ve been listening to them like a person possessed and they’re too fun not to at least mention. Let me indulge in my obsessions.

If you don’t know Torchwood, it’s a BBC series that spins-off from Doctor Who, focusing on the enigmatic and flirtatious Captain Jack Harkness, who is running the covert organization known as Torchwood, which is tasked to protect humanity from and prepare them for alien contact. It’s goofy and campy but also more adult and heavy than Doctor Who tends to get, so it is (in my opinion) a really fascinating series. Though it also has content warnings coming out the wazoo so maybe make sure it’s for you before delving in.

Serenity specifically is possibly one of the best Torchwood stories I’ve ever experienced. The Torchwood team concludes that there’s an undercover alien hiding in the idyllic gated community Serenity Plaza, and so that means it’s up to Jack and Ianto to go undercover as a happily married couple and flush out the alien without being discovered first. Even if it means being sickly sweet together, pretending to care about the local neighbourhood barbecues, and actually caring a bit too much about the Best Front Lawn competition. What is truly magical about this one, is that it manages to make it a Fake Dating AU despite the fact that Jack and Ianto are actually dating in canon. But they’re both used to dating as a pair of alien hunters with insanely dysfunctional lives, and who now need to figure out how to deal with domesticity. It is marvellous.

Wilderlore: The Accidental Apprentice

A middle grade novel that felt a bit like a cross between Harry Potter and Pokemon. It’s about orphan Barclay Thorne who wants nothing more than to be accepted in the rule-bound village of Dullshire, and live up to his apprenticeship as a mushroom farmer. He certainly wants nothing to do with the fearsome Beasts who live beyond the village, deep in the Woods or the sinister Lorekeepers that bond with them. It was, after all, a Beast that had killed his parents all those years ago. But when he finds himself at the very edge of the forest, hunting for an elusive mushroom, he is suddenly unable to avoid any of that. Not when a wild girl and her bonded dragon appear to summon a horrible Beast and end up getting Barclay bonded to it instead. Now, if Barclay ever wants to be welcomed back into his home, he has no choice but to venture into the Woods and find a way to sever the bond imprisoning him to the massive, monstrous wolf now imprinted on his body as a living tattoo.

I honestly can’t decide how I felt about this one. I feel like it’d be a really fun read for maybe a grade 5 to 7 student? I was a bit more meh about it. It was fine, but it was very hard not to draw unfavourable parallels to Harry Potter. But for a kid who’s never read Harry Potter? Or even an adult that has but is looking for something different to scratch that itch, this might be a good book to try. I’ll probably try reading the second book when it comes out.

[melanoradrood]

since you’ve fallen down the simon/daphne hole, can you do a drabble of their first meeting from simon’s pov? thank you! x

So because this is not really for my Prompt-A-Thon thing, I was going to put it on the back burner, but then I finished writing what was in my inbox, so I decided to go rewatch the first meeting scene, and then I watched the whole first episode again, because... because.

Also, I would not call it falling down into a hole... I would say more like there was this giant ocean and I thought it was a puddle and now I’m drowning in it send help and a support group.

Anyways.

Here’s the first meeting from Simon POV 

NOW ALSO ON AO3

He would stay for once dance, which he would not partake in, one drink, which he would sip at politefully, and one conversation, which would be with absolutely no mothers. And then, he would give his Godmother, the rather terrifying Lady Danbery, a nod. And with that, he would disappear.

Just as he wished he could now, standing within the doorway and taking in the ball. He had always avoided such events, avoided the city as a whole during the Season, except his father had only just passed, and he was now required to attend to the duties that had fallen upon him. He could have pushed off all meetings with lawyers and bankers and even the Queen for a few months by citing that he was in mourning, however much that was a lie, but not for the entirety of the season.

Better to get this over with here and now before retreating to the country house, or anywhere else where there would be no mothers, wishing to make their daughters a Duchess.

Fortune was on his side at the fact that he had simply never attended a season before. He had never been introduced to society. He had never been to any balls. He had not been raised at his father’s side. While, yes, a number of gentlemen might recognize him from his school days, they were not trying to wed off their daughters. No, that would fall to their fathers. All of his schoolmates were likely in bars and brothels and clubs, which is exactly where he was going after this little endeavor had ended.

In and out. Lady Danberry could not say she had not seen him, however much the woman frightened him. He would even go so far as to greet her, if there were no older women around her. And then, he should disappear.

Except, that was not what was happening, because before he could even find a drink, before the next dance had even begun upon which he could set his own mental timer, he was being accosted by a mother and her daughters. And then, as soon as the words Your Grace had passed her lips, another mother and daughter were upon him, until he was surrounded by them.

His father choosing to die only weeks before the start of the Season was surely one last Fuck You.

With a round of apologies, he pulled himself away, citing that he was being called by his Godmother and simply must attend to her. That, of course, was met with a round of sighs at how gentlemanly he was, a truly good man in the heart of London. Honestly, it was the first excuse he could come up with, except now, he was forced to look for the old bat. 

He thought he saw her cane, every present at her side, when he felt something rush into him, like a horse, or a demon. Jostled, he looked down to see it was instead a small girl, and was she even old enough to be out for her first Season?

He tried to not snap at her, tried to not insist she remove herself from his presence, except she was already apologizing, and how could he be rude to her when she was being polite. He bit his tongue instead, and gave her a slight nod. “Forgive me.”

Ah yes, now where had that woman gone - the group which she had been part of before had now dispersed, and-

“Tell me your name.”

It was the little girl again, and he raised his brow as he took her in, at how impertinent she was. As if she did not already know - the whole ton was already speaking his name, his rank, his holdings, likely even how many pounds a year he had come in. Still, he had to admit, it was a good enough attempt at getting him to speak to her, when he had no intention of doing so.

“Am I honestly to believe you do not already know my name?” he asked, no longer amused with her as she had just repeated her question. Perhaps not a little girl - perhaps a spinster he had misjudged, desperate to be wed off before her younger sisters were... or perhaps she was the younger sister, wanting to make a better match than the elder had made.

And now, the idiot girl was laughing, as though he had said something funny. And she had thought this might get his attention? False laughter? He should not have attended. He had no patience for such pathetic attempts at seducing him into a dance.

“If you desired an introduction, madam, I do believe accosting me to be the least civilized of ways,” he said with a sniff, no longer interested in entertaining whatever was occurring here. He needed an escape, some sort of way to get away from this child. “Truly, they will try anything.”

“Sir, that is not…” She seemed flustered for words, a clear sign that he was correct. She had known who he was, then, and had come seeking out his fortunes. Anything would be preferable to this. She would even be the sort of girl to chase him into the gardens, wanting to be caught alone with him. Well, he would certainly be avoiding all gardens for the near future. “What is your name?”

He heard it then, his last name, at least, called out from across the room - but thankfully, it was his savior, his hero, one of his oldest friends. Thank goodness. This one, as well, was without a wife, which meant he might foist the girl onto him instead.

“Bridgerton,” he called out, trying to dismiss the girl as he cut her off.

“Come here, old friend,” his school mate said, the two of them grasping hands. “I heard news of your father. Deuce take it, you are no longer Basset.”

Simon smiled a little to himself, trying to hide his inner rage. In truth, he hated what he was about to be called - it was his father’s title. If he were allowed, he would destroy the title itself, and the house with it. He did not want to be called such, and would not allow one of his few friends in the world to do so. “I shall…”

“Hastings! The Duke of Hastings, now known forevermore,” Bridgerton finished.

Simon could feel his words choked in his throat, and it was his worst fear, another of the reasons he avoided society. To stumble over his words now would be… everything his father had feared. It would make the old man right in his assessment, that Simon was… broken.

“The Duke of Hastings, is it?” he heard from the girl, who he had quite forgotten was there. 

She looked amused, now, although he did not know why. In fact, the amusement, it was a better look on her than the one he had seen earlier, the way she had tried to trick him, as though… well, she seemed surprised by his name now. She was a better actress, suddenly.

“Right, Hastings, this is my sister.”

Sister. Sister.

Everything in his mind came whirling to a stop in his brain, every other thought about avoiding mothers and little girls and their pretending to not know who he was, or pretending to know exactly who he was, it all just disappeared, as he quickly repeated what Bridgerton had just said.

“Daphne, Hastings and I know each other from our days at Oxford, days we shall not soon forget.”

He was looking at her in a new light, now. There was certainly no way that her brother would ever allow her around him. Perhaps, he had read the situation wrong to begin with. She had been looking over her shoulder, as though afraid or nervous - had she truly not known who he was? Was it all a chance encounter?

“Yes. As I am well aware of the company you keep, brother, I am certain your days with His Grace were most civilized indeed, the girl, Daphne, Miss Bridgerton was saying.

Simon had tried to fake a smile at Bridgerton’s mention of their school days, but now, as he watched her speak of the company her brother kept, he could not help it - he suddenly found himself amused, in awe, in… well, he felt something. Perhaps it was even wonder, at the way that she quickly had a retort for her brother, insulting them both while making it sound as though it were a compliment.

She had no interest in marrying him, of that he could be certain. At least, not at this very moment.

And that suddenly made her intriguing. The look she gave him, he might even call it loathing, certainly judgemental. She had no interest in being his Duchess. Well then, the little girl was suddenly very interesting to him, and he had no idea what to do with that.

Bridgerton mentioned the club, which Simon had already planned on attending, but he needed to step away - he had already been here for far too long, had had a conversation, and now, he needed to kiss his Lady Godmother goodnight, and disappear with it.

Before he was trapped in another conversation.

“Indeed. Evening, Bridgerton.” He stopped, turning his attention to her fully, committing the look of her to memory. She had looked too young to him at first glance, but now that he was looking at her, she looked to be most lovely indeed. Bridgerton had mentioned his sister a few times, how she was the Diamond of the family… Far too pure for Simon to ever look at again, but she was indeed quite lovely. “Miss Bridgerton.”

The girl gave him a nod, then took her brother’s arm as they walked away. He could not help himself, then, could not stop himself as he turned in place, watching the pair walk away.

The girl, Daphne… very lovely. Her eyes, they spoke to him in some way, her features that he once thought too young were now something he could politely call dainty, and the way her eyes had thinned at him, upon realization as to who he was to her brother…

She looked back over her shoulder to him, and then her eyes lowered, as though scanning his form. He did not look away, simply held his place, watching her walk away.

Lovely. Very lovely indeed.

Away. He needed to be away from this place. A girl like Daphne Bridgerton was certainly not one that would arrive at the club, and most certainly would not warm his bed, which meant that she was of no consequence to him.

Ah, there she was - it was time to bid his guest good night, before he got into any more trouble.

Or did something foolish, like ask a lovely girl to dance.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

@uberoll-oystercrackers putting this PT convo on blast just for the sake of switching to this format where u don’t have to break everything up via replies because [comically deep inhale]

honestly like idc idc i guess ppl are just like “uhh mytho’s got nothing going on b/c he has no feelings!!” like Yeah Correct, that’s a premise / inciting factor for this series and everything everyone’s doing lol, it’s only Boring if you don’t think about the character at all lmfao which i guess some ppl don’t, but like, there’s only 4 of them.....it’s Wildly Interesting that he literally has no feelings at first, like, for one thing it’s cool how there’s always the Idea of characters who don’t have emotions or act on them, but this is like the rare “realistic” situation where having no feelings means he needs someone to steer him around and make choices for him (and how Vulnerable that leaves him lmfao like episode 2 is wild but also that ppl just haven’t really realized that they Could just pick mytho up and pitch him into a wall, and fakir and rue are sort of careful neutral alliance keeping tabs on him) and you know, the whole s1 structure of mytho regaining both Capacity For / Experience of An Emotion and his sense of identity and by extent of all this his agency, and how like, Thematic everything surrounding this character is that’s reflected in the overall series like. trying to control someone for your own benefit vs being willing to sacrifice your own interests (and then some...) for their freedom & the Protecting Someone (And/Or Wanting To) As A Love Language that all the characters show for each other at various points & hope vs despair.......and like No Shit he’s dispassionate & passive b/c he can’t Feel Feelings & resultantly can’t make decisions or feel motivations but obviously he’s still Motivating other characters to act on his behalf, & there’s so much mystery & drama already in “yeah this guy you think is just a neat handsome guy is also an actual prince from a story who’s Real & sacrificed his heart in the fight with an evil giant raven monster that eats people & so he can’t feel anything or remember who he is” like damn!!! epic of him even if right now he can’t do much of anything on his own. i’m interested, and then i’m Interested every time in the Drama & Mystery of this person regaining parts of himself and completely rediscovering An Emotional Experience and how that is totally recontextualizing his entire existence for him.....

plus also even though “person literally lost heart via magic and doesn’t know what Feeling Things is” isn’t a We’ve All Been There situation i was like oh and you know it’s not like what mytho’s got going on isn’t potentially Relatable....can get into a side essay about dapressione and trauma and other types of stuff that can make it seem like someone can’t/shouldn’t have full access to their feelings / self / agency &/or it’s Dangerous if they try.....whew

but continuing on YEAH ugh just completely fascinated with mytho the Entire Time actually lol like, i’ve tended to lose steam in early s2 b/c he’s sort of Less involved beyond the [hehe time to cause some trouble in this particular ep] role lol but even so it’s like well it’s kinda fun when at least somebody’s being a bitch who lives for drama lmfaooooo & we get mytho Struggling Internally & sometimes punching through that way but again it’s like yeah oops the guy was basically autonomous but zwoop here’s a problem where that doesn’t mean shit anymore lol b/c he’s got this alternate evil self steering the ship all the time now lol got em.....the Peak of that i guess is where we get to have an epic swordfight between raven!mytho and fakir like you know what fuck yes!!! the intrinsic drama of that lmfao!!!! and then it’s like “oh no :/ loving the drama? that’s just what drosselmeyer wants” except Not b/c actually what makes it totally rule is that it’s this chance for Real Mytho to come through for the sake of protecting fakir (tbt “i wonder what i think of you, fakir”...) and really like that being what prompts fakir’s “you know what, even though before i was afraid my role as a knight would kill Me and i’m afraid my coincidental(?) role as a guy who can Reality Write could kill Anyone Else, i gotta try b/c that’s the only thing i could possibly do here and i want to try protecting everyone else b/c everyone else including mytho is protecting Me” and like augh everyone is so Thoughtful about how to try to help mytho out even as like, they can’t hardly interact with him or undo the situation lol.....as you’re getting into the series finale and everyone’s just outright Voicing things and you get “i/we want to protect mytho” like 32x and it’s beautiful each time ;___; like and well sorry but him & his heart/lack of are also the heart of the whole story here.....

and you know what *i* want to protect mytho, sympathizing with all the characters like fuck yes you’re so right, this guy rules, episode 6 aka The Fear Episode is SO good, like, you’ve gotten kinda used to the episodic format here, ep 5 did sure also make it obvious that things are Building on what’s happening prior here & that there’s stakes and stuff but it’s such a shakeup, like, that maybe just kinda sneakily dipping in and out of the arena giving back a piece of his heart until it’s done with, no problem, Isn’t Gonna Happen, and again, the Drama of it all......that the heart shards are yeah kind of their own People who are these fractions of mytho’s self and the way you interact with them is gonna like, affect things, since tutu didn’t like “resolve” things with that heart shard and just kinda got him on a technicality there lmfao so it’s like, yeah not only does mytho have a more general / abstract cause to be afraid of tutu & her bringing all these Unknowns & completely new things to him / changing things up and apparently introducing conflict, but you’ve gone and gotten his capacity for fear all recently riled up and specifically afraid of his interaction with You from 5 sec ago, and how could anyone know this mysterious magical being giving you Negative Feelings is like, Safe......and i’m sure it’s all compounding here, like, it’s Wild to be suddenly experiencing A Feeling for the (seeming) first time, and that in itself sure could be Scary, he just hasn’t had the proper emotion available with with to Be Afraid, now he’s gotten back a freshly stoked (capacity for) Fear and how off the shits it must be to be afraid for the first time anyways, or to be feeling the other stuff for the first time, and who knows what Unfun Feelings could come next, there’s a lot to freak out about.......and not like it’s trying That hard to never suggest like oh fakir's not that bad even though he’s technically an antagonist at the start b/c of being at odds with / against the protagonist, it’s pretty telling there lol like he’s unhappy with mytho having feelings again at all and has already been getting mad about it but is just being Helpful here and trying to comfort him, like aw that’s neat i think it’s nice, and again throwing it back to “I Wonder What I Think Of You, Fakir” you get fakir reassuring mytho that nobody but him is around, and mytho having this capacity for Fear is choosing to confide in fakir re: what he’s dealing with here (not that this would on it’s own be some guarantee that mytho’s Right to be unafraid of fakir, but, knowing all we eventually know...) like again lol it’s funny that drosselmeyer’s loving the Drama of mytho only having regained Negative Feelings like, i mean i’m soaking it in as well but it’s like, that guy’s all about Angst and it’s like no im here all about the Hurt/Comfort more like, thank you lmfao

it’s also SO good how it’s like, the next episode is turning around & giving the story a way forward not by like, oh let’s just counteract this Fear mytho’s struggling with by returning the....emotion of Courage i guess, but rather by giving him back Curiosity to ultimately lead to him actually seeking a conversation with tutu.......and it’s like AUGH it’s soooo fun that he goes to that river and has a conversation with his own heart shard lmfao like that’s you!!! and that You does not realize you’re them!!! that’s wild and i love it......wait i took low res screenshots when i rewatched this a few weeks ago lmfao

i Love it lmfao like it’s Such a good choice to have him not only have lost his Emotions but also memories / knowledge of who he, himself, even is.....like yeah man it was all on you to fight this heart eating raven monster!!!!!!!!! which you know, it’s also Fun that earlier in that episode when he and fakir are hanging out in the secret Problems Mill (which....fakir is hilarious like that lmfao. whole other tangent here like ppl are not only rolling with Animals As People but stuff like “yeah fakir might just be like ‘oops gotta go!’ and whisk mytho away to various out of the way Locations” like lmfao these teens have some free rein, but it’s nothing compared to s2 where it’s like “They Were Roommates but ig fakir tried to kill mytho who’s now being really dramatic and weird which is v different from before and maybe he’s in love with that one random dude who’s around now, which sucks for everyone else, oops now he’s just like Vanishing for god knows how long at a time it’s fine!!!!” lmfao like god. ballet school just is like that sometimes...) anyways Yeah that mytho’s been having nightmares about the raven and fakir is just going like IT’S FINE JUST DON’T THINK ABOUT IT lol and knowing fakir is also being pretty driven / restricted by fear, reasonably, as he thinks (well. and is correct) that he’s The Knight and his fate is literally written as “yeah if the story gets going and you’re a part of it you’ll just be killed” like yeah, oof......Wonder What I Think Of You Fakir like yeah AND he is that knight you actually did know who was suddenly killed trying to protect you and he’s sorta accepted that role again except he’s not really a fan of that Being Killed thing so here we’re having some issues in his misguided approach here re: Mytho Should Not Get His Heart Back, but he’s also trying to protect them Both from the story, and he’s only So Willing to act Against mytho, like, well hey thanks for apologizing after you hit him and then like, not doing that anymore lol, v reasonable how he’s struggling here lol where he’s trying to Protect mytho but the story a) wants to invite tragedy and b) has already said that The Knight has been / will be killed and can’t actually protect the prince within the story, also c) he’s just like one random high school guy out here......and also that it must just be kinda hard to adapt to this changing situation where mytho Is regaining this sense of self and motivation, but for like the past decade or whatever he Has needed fakir to just be in charge and tell him what to do all the time and, if he had the sense of what it was to trust someone, trust fakir to just always be acting in his best interest, but then mytho’s idea of his own best interest a) starts to Exist and b) is at odds w/fakir’s b/c also c) he doesn’t have All his feelings yet, Or all his memories, while fakir is like “noooo i know the story”.....like there was never any need to just like tell him he sucks at random times lol but it’s also kind of funny that’s just part of fakir’s shtick, calling mytho a dumbass one more time when he’s just fully himself as The Prince again lmfaooo. but prior to that, surely fakir could wonder what mytho thinks of him (or potentially Could think of him) too.......it’s just soooo good when mytho is like, expressing things verbally while trying to work through / figure out Feelings and even ones that he doesn’t have back yet, and it’s always fun how that inevitably throws off whatever character he’s musing about this to......including whenever ahiru’s just like “oh fuck yes he can do this b/c he has more feelings back now, that rules” and/or “aw :( he’s struggling w/this b/c he only has Some of his heart back”

and also that reminds me it’s SO good when the characters just kinda get to Do Something together lmfao like. ahiru and rue hanging out when looking for mytho that one time, iconic stuff, mytho and ahiru hanging out in the previous episode, iconic, maybe it kills me that in the first ep of s2 you have mytho saying ahiru’s his friend and the only person he feels like he can tell anything (and ahiru feeling bad she hasn’t Told Him Everything lol) and then he basically never gets to interact with her again knowing and as himself like Scream it’s fine ;v; !!!!!! let these people spend more than 3 seconds together Interacting lmfao it’s soooo good when they do :’0

and THEN you get into how there’s all this stuff re: The Story, like, fakir is the reincarnated knight, ahiru is the duck given tutu’s abilities Via a piece of mytho’s heart, but we had the original knight and tutu in the story as these actual ppl who we only hear a Little bit of lore about, but mytho actually knew / knows, and like, the original genesis for tutu only being on 1 Page of the story and apparently drosselmeyer doesn’t even really put any thought into what her motivations could be lol like yeah idk whatever she wants to marry the prince or whatever so that’s why she loves him and Says It and disappears......and like we have almost No direct info about her but uh nbd at least some of her actual essence is actually now an intrinsic part of mytho’s actual heart and specifically embedded in the heart shard of Hope, like damn!!!! you Know there was something more Real and Complex going on there and i love it so much.......and the original Knight, lohengrin.....might have been doomed to be unable to protect mytho with his sword, but there’s other ways to protect that guy and Someone needed to be doing it.......i’m just like wow mytho’s gf and bf!!!! and they both sort of died but hey. there’s still a lot to think about

so yeah lmfao love that you can originally see this series like, a decade ago and here it is like damn still lying down / yelling / generally riled up about mytho and just having So Much to think about / appreciate from this series like. it’s so Singular and has so much going on.......cherish it and i’m just still anytime like [epcot vine voice] Mytho...........

[tsarisfanfiction]

Too Far

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Virgil Tracy, Scott Tracy

So I was rewatching some episodes, minding my own business, when this muse blindsided me out of nowhere.  It’s a lot of Virgil, specifically delving into Virgil’s head and motivations, and this is a playground that is normally locked and barred to me so I have no idea at this point how well it’s ended up from a characterisation standpoint.  Who knows, maybe one day I’ll understand this boy.

It’s not normally Virgil that Scott has to pull up for misconduct.  Episode tag for 3.06 Life Signs.

“Virgil, can you come to the den, please?”

Scott’s voice emerged from his comm with no warning, not even a greeting, and he looked down at his wrist in surprise.

“Is it a rescue?” he asked, eyeing the task he was halfway through and already starting to calculate the fastest way to finish it.  “I’m doing some maintenance on Two, so it’ll take me a couple of minutes to get her ready for launch.”

“There’s no rescue.” Scott sounded… off, but not in any of the ways Virgil was used to hearing.  It was, at least, partially familiar, but he couldn’t place it.  That was concerning, but he couldn’t just leave Thunderbird Two with her dashboard strewn across the cockpit.  Rescues had a habit of cropping up at the most inconvenient times, and that certainly qualified.

“Then… can it wait until I’ve put the panels back?”

The weighty pause on the line gave him the answer even before Scott spoke.  Whatever Scott needed, it was urgent.

“Five minutes, Virgil.”

But not so urgent it couldn’t wait?  Thoroughly mystified and more than a little worried, Virgil hurried through putting his girl back together as quickly as he could whilst still being sure he wasn’t messing anything up.  It was lucky he could do it in his sleep, because his mind was firmly fixed on Scott’s odd request.

Except it wasn’t a request, was it?  As he screwed the last panel back in place, he realised where he knew that tone of voice from.  It was the tone Scott used on Gordon and Alan when they’d done something big brother didn’t approve of.  He hadn’t instantly recognised it because Scott hadn’t directed it at him in…

Virgil couldn’t actually remember.  Normally when Scott was preparing to lecture him, he was laid up in the medbay with an injury Scott thought could have been avoided and there was a strong undercurrent of thinly veiled worry.  That undercurrent was missing, this time, and despite himself Virgil hesitated.

What had he done to get Scott on his back like that?

Reluctantly, he left his girl to answer Scott’s summons – and that was what it was, just like Dad used to summon them if they were in trouble; after Mars and the high of Captain Taylor saying Dad would have been proud of them, the reminder of Dad’s stricter side nestled unpleasantly in his chest.  Scott had even gone so far as to wait for him in the den, rather than seeking him out.

Just like Dad.

Virgil wasn’t scared of his brother, but the little brother in him was scared at the idea of disappointing Scott, and it was that part that dragged his feet along the ground, reluctant to face whatever was waiting for him in the den.

Scott was sat at Dad’s desk, glowering intently at a hologram in front of him.  Virgil couldn’t see what was on it, barring a lot of text, but that wasn’t important.  What was important was the strong, imposing figure at the desk, distinct from his memories of Dad only because Scott was leaning forwards, elbows on the table.

Dad had never sat like that. Sometimes, it seemed like that was the only difference between Dad and his big brother.  Today, with a heavy atmosphere and otherwise empty den – no doubt cleared on purpose for this talk – was one of those times.

But for all that they reminded Virgil of each other and memories threatened to overlap reality, it was still Scott at that desk.  Virgil trusted Scott with every fibre of his being, and it was that trust that shoved his reluctant feet into the den to face whatever Scott wanted to talk about.

“You called?”

Muscle memory – old, old muscle memory that hadn’t been exercised in eight years – led him to stand in front of the desk.  With Scott sat in the chair and him still on his feet, he was taller.  He didn’t feel taller.

The desk did funny things to perception, skewed them away from reality.

The blue eyes that suddenly pinned him in place left him feeling a foot tall, and he didn’t even know what this was about, yet.  There was love in them, because it was Scott and there was always love in his eyes, even after Gordon had poured itching powder in his bed when he was ten and the sheer amount had him reacting so badly he’d had to see a doctor, but it was overshadowed by other, darker, things.

Anger. Frustration.  Disappointment.

Disappointment had a way of affecting the colour that no other emotion could quite replicate.  It was the only shade of blue that made Virgil feel ill to look at.

Scott didn’t say anything, making solid eye contact that Virgil wanted to break but couldn’t.

If the disappointment was heart-breaking, the silence was nerve-wracking.  Virgil didn’t like silence at the best of times, and took to filling it with whatever he could, whether it was music, the sounds that accompanied engineering, or simply lingering in earshot of whichever brother was the liveliest at that moment.

But Scott knew that, and no matter how upset or disappointed he was, he wasn’t cruel.  The silence lingered for barely a few seconds before he jabbed at something on his tablet.

An awful choking sound emitted from the desk’s built-in speakers, as though someone was trying to breathe but just couldn’t.  It was one Virgil had heard many times before – too many times before – but this one was different.

A wave of cold – icy, Antarctica-cold – swallowed him up with the creeping inevitability of realisation, dousing him until his organs felt like they’d all stopped working and the blood had drained from his body.

He didn’t need the sound of Alan’s panicked “Virgil!?” to identify it, and his entire body cringed as he heard his own voice, too full of adrenaline-packed amusement, reply.

The finger that jabbed the pause button was full of judgement.

“I-” he started, trying to find words – an explanation, an apology…

Those blue eyes gave him a look and he quailed into silence.  An excuse.  That’s what he’d been leaping to, but there were no excuses.  Not for that.

“Our communications lines are supposed to be used for mission-relevant information only,” Scott finally said.  The disappointment Virgil had identified in the initial summons had nothing on what was dripping from his big brother’s words now.  “Strictly speaking, there should be no jokes or banter while we’re on a mission, but for the sake of boosting morale, I let that slide.”

He did more than let it slide – Scott was almost as bad as Gordon and Alan for it sometimes, but Virgil knew better than to pedantically correct his eldest brother when he was like this.  Hell, even John tended to let Scott say his piece without interrupting if he got this bad.

“Still,” Scott continued, “there are some jokes that go too far, Virgil, and quite honestly I can’t believe I’m having to remind you, of all people.”

He winced involuntarily. “I know, Scott, I’m sorry.  That was out of line.”  It hadn’t seemed it at the time, not with the adrenaline rushing and a sudden desire to lighten the mood in the collapsed tunnel, but in hindsight, Virgil could see exactly how stupid a prank that had been.

And to do it to Alan, of all people.  His youngest brother who had just admitted to him that he was forgetting Dad and worried about them dying on a mission.  For them to have one of their closest calls to date was bad enough, where it had been a very real possibility that not all of them were going to make it out alive, but then he’d gone and compounded it…

“Virgil.”  Scott pulled him back to the present, and Virgil never wanted to hear his big brother say his name like that ever again.  His admittance had done nothing to dilute the disappointment.  “I’m not the one you need to apologise to.”  Scott at least had enough mercy not mention Alan by name, even if it hung unspoken and heavy between them.  “But we need to talk about this.”

Need to talk?  Virgil knew he was in the wrong, and normally when Scott knew he knew he was in the wrong, he let it rest after pointing it out. Actually having to talk about it – worse, having to stand there and face the disappointed shade of blue – filled Virgil with something not too dissimilar to shame and apprehension.

The thought crossed his mind that he was going to be grounded.  Punished.

“Virgil, why did you do that?”

“I-” he started, but broke off.  Why did he do it?  Adrenaline wasn’t the reason, even if it had played a part in him actually doing it. Fear, too.  Fear that he really was going to die; that he’d just killed himself and abandoned Alan to dig out his dead body.  But that still wasn’t the reason, was it?  Not really.

Scott didn’t push him. For all he was disappointed, and other displeased emotions swirled around behind the disappointment, he gave him time to answer.  But then, perhaps Scott knew he didn’t know and was waiting for him to work it out.  His eldest brother could be a mind reader at times.

Virgil swallowed.  “I…  I wanted to be like Dad.”

The words surprised him as much as they did Scott.  Blue eyes widened, and finally Virgil saw something else, something he was used to, flicker in there as well.

Worry.

“Like Dad?  But, Virg-”

“Captain Taylor’s always going on about Dad, and how Dad never let fear get in the way,” he interrupted his brother, words tumbling out with no conscious thought behind them.  “How Dad always had a plan, and the scrapes they’d get into.  How they always got out of them by the skin of their teeth – writing the book on lunar survival and the asteroid belt’s buckle and landing on Mars in the first place.” He took a deep breath, considered looking away but Scott’s wide, rapidly changing eyes locked his gaze in place.  “And Alan was talking about Dad on the way, all the little things he used to do.”  He didn’t mention what Alan had told him – that had been said in confidence, and there were some things he couldn’t break, not even for Scott.

Instead, he paused to get his rushing thoughts under control.  Scott’s disappointment had faded into astonished disbelief, and that hurt in its own way.

He also still looked like Dad.

“Captain Taylor was talking about Dad, and everyone knows you’re Dad’s son.  And John, and Alan.  Hell, even Gordon.  I just wanted Captain Taylor to see I am, too.”

He knew everyone looked at him and saw Mom.  Even if they didn’t look alike, he’d inherited her temperament and love of music.  They never looked at him and saw Dad.

“I just wanted to be Dad’s son,” he admitted.  “I wanted to do what Dad always did in the stories and lighten the mood, keep the morale up. It was stupid; I know that now.  I terrified Alan.  It was unprofessional and Dad would never have done that at anyone’s expense.”

His cheeks felt cramped, and his vision blurred.

“Virgil…”  There was movement in front of him and then a weight on his shoulder.  He knew that weight – he’d felt it time and time again.

“It was stupid,” he repeated, the words thick in his throat.  “I shouldn’t have done it.  But… Captain Taylor said he’d be proud of me.”

The hand on his shoulder shifted, and then there was a firm warmth around him.

“Of course Dad would be proud of you,” Scott said, mouth a little way above his ear.  Virgil let his head fall forwards until it was resting on his brother’s shoulder.  “Don’t ever think that he wouldn’t be.  You don’t have to be like him, Virgil.  You just have to be like you.”

On another day, in another conversation, Virgil would turn that back around at Scott, who had spent the last eight years trying to emulate Dad.

But Scott had him in a warm, comfortable embrace and the little brother who had been terrified of those disappointed blues lapped up the reassurance that was being offered in their place.  This wasn’t about Scott; this was about him and his stupid spur-of-the-moment idiocy.

And the brother he had no doubt terrified more than he’d realised.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into the blue shirt.  “I messed up.”

“You’re only human,” Scott reminded him.  “We mess up, and we learn from it.”

Slowly, Virgil nodded. That was certainly a mistake he was never, ever going to make again.

Scott’s embrace was still comforting, but with the little brother no longer terrified, it was the big brother’s turn to make an appearance.  He couldn’t put this behind him, lesson fully learnt and absorbed so intently it was imprinted on his brain for all eternity, until he soothed it over with Alan, too. Reluctantly, he pulled back, out of his brother’s hold, and Scott let him.  Hands lingered on his shoulders just a touch longer, before they fell back to Scott’s sides.

Now that Scott was standing, not sat at the desk projecting Dad, he was actually taller than Virgil, and yet Virgil didn’t feel quite so small anymore.

“I need to talk to Alan,” he said, hoping Scott didn’t notice his voice cracking on their youngest brother’s name.  Blue eyes – no longer disappointment-blue, but back to their default love-and-concern shade – looked him over, before Scott gave him what could almost be classified as an approving smile.

It was definitely approving, even if the twitch of his dimples wasn’t quite enough to qualify it as a smile, and that alone lifted a weight from Virgil’s shoulders.

“You should,” he agreed. “But you should probably clean up a bit, or you’ll scare him.”  It was light-hearted, almost back to the teasing banter of a big brother rather than the Dad-mirage, and Virgil took it for the olive branch it was.

Nodding, he turned to leave the den.

“And Virgil?”  There was something slightly melancholy about that tone, and he turned half back around again.  Scott was looking at him, with a small smile on his face that wasn’t really happy, even if it wasn’t sad.  Just honest. “Even Dad was only human.”

[goodbyekillingharmony]

My own interpretation of Qrow's character in V8

also, before we get really into this, of course, there will be spoilers. don’t say i didn’t warn you. also, probably don’t take this too seriously? i wrote this at like 3 in the morning last night and wanted to rework it into something more proper. i tried to make it flow more properly and fuck this may not even make any sense, so bare with me. this is mostly a headcanon i have to get myself through the travesty that is volume 8 and it did make it more enjoyable for me, so i guess that is a plus.

alright, i think i have bored you enough with the unnecessary parts, here we go boys. also, one final thing, this isn’t supposed to undermine shit like part 8 or f//r g//me, or anything of the sort, this was just made as a fun little headcanon that got serious real quick. okay, actually starting now.

I think most RWBY fans have noticed a sudden shift in behavior in Qrow. I don’t really know what the consensus is for this since I hardly, if ever, interact with this fandom, however, for me, until yesterday, it had bothered me heavily. I am a fairly harsh critic when it comes to the writing on the show, purely due to the fact I want to become a writer myself, so I tend to be overly analytical, which can lead to me finding flaws more easily. Nevertheless, even with my mostly neutral feelings regarding Volume 8 right now for various reasons, I persisted. It wasn’t until last night when I really started thinking about this, putting my more critical self aside, and started to look at the bigger picture. Then, an idea had popped into my mind.

Based on someone who has severe trust issues and immense paranoia, I had finally understood, well, at least, theoretically. What if the reason that Qrow is so hostile and, honestly, unreasonable this volume is because he suspected something like this. He suspected Ironwood to do something akin to this. Obviously, not to this severe of a degree, but he felt that like, sooner or later, that this would happen.

What do I mean by this? Well, me and a good friend of mine (@graegrape hi) had gone traversing the RWBY Wikia and found something that honestly kick started the entire thing. 

“ General Ironwood shows concern over Qrow's warning in his conversation with Ozpin in "Welcome to Beacon", which prompted him to bring his fleet to Vale in hopes of preventing conflict in the Vytal Festival. However, this action only served to infuriate Qrow. ’’

Naturally, this had caught my eye. So, we went digging for some screencaps.

When Qrow informed Ironwood and Co. about finding some of Salem's forces, Ironwood had deployed, essentially, his entire fleet, and Qrow was absolutely angered by this; how the hell could he have messed it up so badly?

-

However, at least in this point in time during Volume 3, Qrow doesn’t completely distrust Ironwood.

“ Qrow has commented that he wonders if Ironwood has a heart. Nonetheless, Qrow saves Ironwood from a Griffon in "Heroes and Monsters", knowing the general is innocent of the carnage caused by his automated forces. He shows his respect and loyalty by asking Ironwood for suggestions regarding their plan of action to deal with the invading Grimm, showing that while he may not respect his methods, Qrow does not completely hate him or view him as a threat. ‘’

What was the point of this part of the post, OP? Well, I am happy you asked. I wanted to show just exactly what their dynamic was back in those volumes, almost as a refresher. There is some amount of trust and respect, and there is some amount of comradery there, however, something underlying is starting to brew, specifically Qrow’s reaction to Ironwood’s course of action. My own interpretation of this part? This gave Qrow a proper look at how extreme Ironwood could get, letting it settle in his own mind for a while, making the seed of doubt of Ironwood’s self-destructive behavior plant itself.

══════════════════

The next part of this post will be way more hypothetical. While I will try to provide evidence, this is creeping into more headcanon-ish territory. You have been warned lol.

Well, that’s all of the Volume 2 - 3 stuff out of the way, time to move onto the elephant in the room. Alright, so Volume 7, a favorite for many and I am no exception.

However, even when I have rewatched the Volume at least 3 times at this point, there was a certain scene that had always stuck out to me, and that is relevant to the post at hand, so might as well get it out of the way. I’m sure we all know what I’m talking about here.

The hug.

So, when the hug happened, for Qrow, at least in my own interpretation, it felt like his entire world got shattered.

Ironwood had actually missed him; actually taking the time to tell him that he cared. You could see Qrow wasn’t as tense anymore, actually letting his guard down in front of someone that wasn’t his family. In my opinion, specifally with this frame,

Qrow had started to reflect. To reflect on not only their own relationship, but on himself as well. He, possibly, had his own seed of doubt regarding Ironwood slowly starting to disappear. Something akin to, “Maybe he does have a heart.” or whatever. 

And then, Ironwood, of all people, had betrayed him. It had happened again.

══════════════════

Suddenly, he was given a reason, at least in his mind, to justify his distrust of others, but of Ironwood especially. He was right in his mind. “Sooner or later, someone close to me would do this. And to imagine it being to such a severe situation too. He did it again.” Qrow was probably devastated. I’m not denying that he wasn’t sad about Clover, he clearly was and I am not going to deny that fact. However, that being his only reason does not sit well with me. His colleague, one of the remaining people in Ozpin’s group, had done this, after he had promised to ensure his safety, planting a false hope within him. Now, he was thrown away like a rag by one of the only remaining members of Ozpin's circle he could get into proper contact with.

Qrow’s sadness turning into anger is literally perfectly in character to him, so it would make complete sense, trying to deflect everything, because he, himself, wants to be right in his own mind; it was a long time coming, it only happened now.

He’s deflecting a lot of the things, pushing it in the back of his mind. He's scared. He has to be alone again. Just when he thought he was finally safe to trust people again, to seek comfort in someone like Clover, the first person he was willing to spill his heart out to, as well; he lost him. So, he uses everything he can to stop his mind from thinking about it. Anger, sadness, blissful ignorance; whatever he can do to ignore it, because he gave up drinking, so he can't use that for coping anymore.

The reason why he’s reacting so extremely is, in my opinion,is not just due to “Oh, well, I saw this coming.”, but also that he is going through withdrawl. He has to do cope using other methods, since he can’t use his former one anymore. He has to feel the full brunt of his own emotions, he can’t numb them down anymore, and to himself, he can’t justify his own feelings. In his mind, the best course of action is to redirect those extremes onto someone else.

It is quite possibly that Qrow had noticed Ironwood’s sudden shift in behavior, making him reflect on himself, too. He sees that Ironwood is walking down the same path that he himself was going down many years ago, but he can’t do anything. He thinks that Ironwood wouldn’t listen to him, considering what happened back in the Vytal festival. Ironwood did not back down in the slightest back then, so why would he now? That type of mentality. He doesn’t bother with it.

(This next part was written by my good friend and honestly? Great food for thought.) 

Qrow’s former emotions mirror those of Ironwood’s current ones. Qrow, back in the earlier volumes, had used alcohol to help ease his mind and block out things he didn’t want to think about. And now, current Ironwood, is only focusing on what’s directly in front of him and blocking out the entirety of Mantle.

In essense, Ironwood had become exactly what he hated about Qrow.

(I rewrote it a bit, but the main idea was all them. Thank you so much for this.)

He is deliberately using everything he can to not think about Ironwood, due to the fact that he can easily become irrational when he does, and he does need Robyn as an ally, so he buries it all down, possibly being self-aware about his own behavoir, but not know how to deal with it.

══════════════════

Well, that sure was long. There could be things I forgot to mention, and I’m not even sure if this is well structured or not, since I’m not used to writing essays, at least, not to this caliber, but I hoped it, at least, made you possibly think about Qrow in a more intiment sense. Qrow’s and Ironwood’s relationship had always been the most facsinating one in the entire show, so seeing it being thrown to the side did sting a bit. But, I hope that there was a good reason for it. I am still looking forward to what V8 has in store, especially with the heavily implied fight, I just hope it’s something more than just Qrow getting revenge for Clover. C’mon, CRWBY! I know you can do better.

If you made it this far, thank you. And please understand I made this out of pure love for the show. I have been a fan for a while now and I only want what’s best for the show. I promise this isn’t just me being a salty Ironqrow shipper lmao Anyway, let’s hope this volume turns out great.

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Not So Bad

Pairings: Avengers!Reader x Daniel Sousa, Steve x Bucky (mentioned briefly) 

Summary: What happens when Tony and Natasha don’t die in the final battle with Thanos? Steve’s boyfriend has been returned from the dust and all his friends are alive and well. He has very little to gain from going back in time and everything to lose, so you volunteer to return the stones. Everything was going swimmingly until a Pym Particle malfunction left you stranded in 1949 with little hope of return. You seek out Howard Stark, hoping he’ll be able to come up with a solution to get you back. However, the longer you remain stranded, the more you start to realize maybe the past isn’t so bad after all.

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: mild swearing, slight fear of needles/experimentation. 

A/N: Rewatching Agent Carter and the new season of Agents of SHIELD have me on a high Sousa high but I’ve noticed there aren’t many Sousa x Reader fics on this site so I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands. Let me know if I should write a part 2! 

Sequel

___

“Shit,” you gasped, frantically hitting the device on your wrist. “Shit shit shit shit.” 

You were standing in a supply closet though you were supposed to be standing in Tony’s yard, surrounded by the rest of the Avengers team as you celebrate the defeat of Thanos and saving the world one more time. The party was also doubling as Steve’s retirement party; he was finally passing the shield and title of Captain America to Sam and settling down with Bucky. Your travels to return the Infinity Stones had left you famished and you were craving a slice of celebratory cake but there you were, stuck in a 1940s supply closet. 

“Damn you, Scott Lang,” you cursed under your breath once you realized the device wouldn’t be sending you back to the present (or is it technically the future?) anytime soon. 

You let your back slide down the wall, resting on the floor as you wracked your brain for a solution. Lord knows you weren’t qualified to tinker with the device, all this time travel stuff hurt your head when you thought about it too much. The only people who knew what they were doing were Scott and Tony and they were still in the present, probably slicing into that delicious cake right now…

Your stomach rumbled and you groaned. “Damn you, Stark.” 

Then it hit you. 

“Oh my gosh! Stark!” You shouted your epiphany before remembering where you were and slapping a hand over your own mouth, only removing it once you were sure no one had heard you. 

At least you had your solution. Find Howard Stark, fix the device, return to the present (future?), eat some food. 

Your stomach rumbled again. Maybe food should be higher on your to-do list. 

___

You were kinda surprised when you didn’t cry upon learning that Howard Stark’s jet had just left for Los Angeles. You were stranded in Camp Lehigh, 74 years into the past, and your one shot at getting back just flew across the country. 

Alright, new objective: find Peggy Carter, surely she could get you to LA. Of course, you’d have to find a way to convince her to help you without destroying the timeline. You’ll also have to figure out how to get Howard’s help without telling him you’re a time-traveler and without giving him the ability to recreate the device. Holy shit you were never going to get home. 

You were so caught up in your own mind that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going until you were abruptly knocked over. 

“Oh my gosh, are you alright?” A concerned voice rang out above you and you looked up to see a hand reaching out to help you up. A hand that was attached to an extremely attractive dark-haired man. 

You took the hand, allowing the man to help you off the floor as you apologized, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention!”

“That’s alright, I wasn’t either.” He said, head tilted down in embarrassment. 

The pair of you lingered awkwardly, neither showing any intention of carrying on your separate ways. Finally, the man broke the silence.

“Um, can I help you at all?” He asked, cheeks flushing slightly as he met your eyes for the first time. 

“Uh, yeah, actually.” You responded, your voice suddenly becoming inexplicably quiet. “I’m looking for Howard Stark?”

No, you idiot! You cursed yourself, you know where Howard is! You’re looking for Peggy Carter.

“You just missed him.” The man gave you a sad chuckle. “His plane just took off for LA.” 

“Shit.” You cursed, trying to channel your frustrations into accurately faking a reaction to bad news you had already received. It wasn’t until you saw the look on the man’s face that you remembered where, or rather when, you were. “Aw hell, don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who thinks it’s inappropriate for women to curse?” 

Wow, y/n you’re really nailing it with the first impressions here.

“N-not at all,” The man’s eyes were blown wide as he stumbled to explain himself. “I’d be damned if I thought women weren’t fit to do anything a man could. You just don’t hear many women cursing around here, is all.”

You peered at him curiously, head tilted slightly as you did so. He wasn’t at all what you had expected from the time period. 

“Any chance you could direct me to Agent Carter’s office?” You finally spoke, changing the subject, needing to get back on mission. “If Stark forgot my meeting then I’ll have to find a way to LA, I figure Agent Carter’s my best bet.” 

You knew making up an appointment with Stark was going to bite you in the ass later when he didn’t know who you were but you decided you’d cross that bridge when you came to it. Right now, you needed to get to Stark as quickly as possible and this seemed like the best way to do it. 

“Oh, I was actually headed there myself. I’ll walk you.” The man offered and you smiled gratefully, following him down the hallway, past your supply closet before finally reaching a door that said “Director Peggy Carter.”

“After you,” the man said kindly, holding the door open for you and you stepped into the office. 

You’d seen pictures of Peggy Carter. Of course you had, nobody made it through the World War II section of their history class without seeing at least one picture of Peggy Carter, and well, you worked with Steve so you’d seen plenty of other pictures as well. But Carter was much more stunning in person and no picture could capture the way she held a room. 

“Daniel, it’s good to see you,” You assumed she was greeting the man now stood beside you as you never got his name. “Who’s this?” 

“Oh, uh…” Daniel trailed off, seeming to only just realize he hadn’t gotten your name either. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you answered, saving the man from fumbling any longer. 

“Are you new to base, Agent Y/L/N?” Carter asked, looking at you as if she was trying to remember you but was coming up blank. 

“Oh, I’m not an agent,” you corrected before you could stop yourself. You were on a secure SHIELD base and you just told the director that you weren’t an agent, it sounded suspicious even to you. 

“Then what are you doing on my base?” She asked, tone direct but not harsh. 

“I was supposed to be meeting Mr. Stark for an, uh, appointment?” Your hesitation to commit to your flimsy cover was clearly interpreted as something else as Carter’s gaze became stern. 

“An ‘appointment’?” Her lips pursed as she repeated your excuse and you winced. “Well Miss Y/L/N, Howard Stark is no longer here, in fact, he’s no longer in this state and I have no intention of letting one of his women running around my base.” 

Oh my god. 

You couldn’t help the flush that erupted under your skin at the implication. 

“Oh, no, ma’am.” You began to correct her before you could become any more embarrassed. “It’s a strictly professional appointment. He wanted to, uh, run some tests?” 

This time your embarrassment saved your poor excuse of a cover story. You really needed to actually come up with something rather than making it up as you went, you were going to get caught. 

“Tests for what?” You could tell this was her own curiosities shining through, as everyone in the room knew it was none of their business what Stark was going to “test” you for, but well, you could exactly plead the fifth now. Especially not when Peggy Carter though you were a call girl. 

“It’s uh, it’s a bit personal ma’am,” you said softly, hoping to dissuade her from pressing further but she just raised her eyebrows as if to say “go on.” You glanced at the man on your left, really not wanting to say this in front of more people than necessary. Carter seemed to notice your reluctance and pursed her lips once more,

“Miss Y/L/N, Agent Sousa is the head of our West Coast division and your best chance at getting to Los Angeles. Whatever you have to say, you say to both of us.”

You sighed, wondering if what you were about to do was worth it but you couldn’t think of any other reasonable excuse so you started talking. 

“Well, ma’am, I sorta... levitate.” You practically whispered the last word, as if it was deeply offensive. 

It wasn’t a lie per se, you could levitate but you could do much more than just that. You could fly and you could also turn invisible but you decided to leave all that out, sticking with an ability that could be perceived as an anomaly. Something that would greatly interest a man like Howard Stark. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m not quite sure how, ma’am.” You played into the anomaly angle, hoping they’d buy it. “It just happens sometimes and I can’t control it.”

“Daniel, Miss Y/L/N will be joining you on your flight to LA,” Carter informed the man and he readily nodded. It seemed you had a convincing cover after all. You made a mental note to thank Nat for all those espionage classes when you get back home. 

___

“I’m just going to take a blood sample and then you’re free to go,” Howard said and you winced. You weren’t a fan of needles, especially when it came to learning about your abilities; you had gone through enough of that in your life already, but here you were subjecting yourself to the experiments once again. You had to keep reminding yourself that it was for the mission. 

To his credit, Daniel Sousa had not left your side since you met at Camp Lehigh. At first, it had been cumbersome, as you were unable to ask Howard for help with your actual problem. But now you were thankful for his presence, it had become something of a comfort through all your stress and anxieties over your current situation. 

It seemed as though Sousa could sense your discomfort, reaching out a hand as Howard prepped the needle. You took it gladly, squeezing tight enough for the man to groan slightly and catch Howard’s attention. 

You thought you heard him mutter “cute” and you blushed slightly before he stuck you with the needle and all your attention went back to squeezing the life out of Sousa’s hand, clenching your eyes shut in a failed attempt to pretend none of this was real. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding when Howard removed the needle, though it took you a few moments longer to let go of Sousa’s hand, almost having forgotten you were holding it in the first place. You muttered a quiet apology when you saw him massaging his hand but he merely smiled at you as if to say you had nothing to be sorry about. 

“That’s all I need from you today Miss Y/L/N,” Howard spoke cheerfully, pulling off his gloves and jotting something down on a clipboard. “If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to have you come back tomorrow for a few more tests.” 

You shuddered at the idea but nodded anyway but Sousa ran a hand down half his face in what you weren’t sure was tiredness or frustration. 

“Stark, it’s four a.m.,” He sighed as if he was used to Stark’s night-owl tendencies. “Surely you don’t expect her to be back here in a few hours after you already forced her to pull an all-nighter for your tests.”

You couldn’t stop your heart from swelling at the man’s words. It had been a long time since you had felt so seen by another person and though you could take care of yourself, it was nice to have someone stick up for you. 

“Well, what do you know, it is.” Stark mused thoughtfully, “I never can keep track of time when my mind’s on a project.” He trailed off then as he thought. The silence was a bit alarming, Howard had barely stopped talking long enough to breathe since you had arrived. 

“Very well, Miss Y/L/N, take tomorrow- or I suppose, today- off and come back the next day. I should have your blood sample analyzed by then too, which’ll give us something more to go off of.” 

You nodded, equal parts relieved and anxious. You were thankful for a test-free day however that meant it would be another twenty-four hours until you could talk to Stark about fixing his son’s time travel device. But for the time being you let Sousa drive you back to his place where he insisted on making up the sofa bed for you without any help. 

Your heart warmed as you watched the man do everything in his power to make sure you were comfortable. You had known each other for less than a day but already he had opened up his home to you. You couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach as you watched him limp around the house gathering bedding and anything else you might need while repeatedly shooting down your offers to help out. It felt nice to be taken care of for once. 

“I’ll talk to Rose tomorrow about getting you some other clothes,” you didn’t know who Rose was but you knew Daniel Sousa, head of the West Coast division of SHIELD, didn’t need to be concerning himself with getting some rando new clothes and yet there he was, already making plans to do just that. “But for now, I hope these work.” He looked away shyly as he offered some of his own clothing up to you. 

You muttered a shy “thank you” of your own as you accepted the T-shirt and pair of sweatpants.  

“Bathroom’s right down the hall, towels are in the closet if you want to shower.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck as he nodded in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Thank you, Agent Sousa.” You said sincerely. 

“You’re staying in my house, I think you can call me Daniel.” He corrected with a small smile. 

“Alright then, thank you, Daniel.” 

You padded down the hall to the bathroom, borrowed clothing clutched in your arms. It felt nice to step under the warm water. While it would only be a few seconds for your team, returning the Infinity Stones had taken quite a bit of time and though your mission was far from over, you were grateful for a moment to relax. You left the bathroom feeling, and smelling, like a whole new person. You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw Daniel’s face redden when you reentered the living room in his clothes before he ducked his head, hiding his face from your view. 

“Do you need anything else Miss Y/L/N?” Daniel asked as you gingerly sat on the edge of the sofa bed. 

“I’m staying in your house, I think you can call me Y/N.” You grinned as you parroted back his words from earlier and he laughed warmly. 

“Well, try and get as much sleep as you can, Y/N, and we’ll worry about everything else once we’re rested.” He smiled reassuringly, as though sensing how lost you felt though not knowing just how lost you truly were. “I’ll be at the end of the hall if you need anything.” 

You nodded with an appreciative smile before exchanging quiet goodnights. You watched Daniel make his way down the hall to his bedroom and close the door before you laid down yourself. The sofa bed was surprisingly comfortable and you suddenly realized how truly exhausted you were. As you laid in the dark on a stranger’s bed in a stranger’s home in a strange time you thought back through the events of the last twenty-four hours and your stomach erupted into butterflies again when your thoughts landed on a certain handsome, dark-haired agent. 

The last thought you had before drifting off to sleep was ‘maybe the past isn’t so bad.’

[p-artsypants]

Arcadia or Bust (16) Corner of Main and State

"Yeah, so mom…we made it to New Jersey, and we're all safe...but the Heartstone isn't really...impressive. So, we're bringing what we found home. See you soon!" In Which Arcadia welcomes back it's underground citizens, Jim gets used to mundane life as a Troll, and drama seeks them all out like a magnet.

Ao3 | FF.net

I’m rewatching Trollhunters, because it’s been like a year since I watched it, and the more I listen, the less the plot of Wizards makes sense to me. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but there’s some lore and continuity issues. That being said, I’ll continue to write this story using Trollhunter’s lore primarily, with a sprinkle of Wizards and 3Below lore as I see fit. :)

—

Jim had been through a lot of trauma in his life. At least since becoming the Trollhunter. But nothing was as jarring as looking down to his chest and seeing his ribcage, muscles, and heart beating. 

They had taken the amulet from where it was nestled, and in return, left the gaping hole wide open, oozing with blood, and exposed. Could trolls get infections? Because humans certainly could, and this was just asking for infection. 

He had been lying here alone for a few hours now. It was hard to tell exactly how long in the vast passage of time while drenched in pain. 

When Colonel Kubritz appeared at his side, he wasn’t even surprised. Had he fallen asleep?

“How do you get this to work?” She bit. In her hand, she held the cleaned amulet, and it glowed, aching to be back with him. 

“You can’t. You have to be chosen by it. Even if I die, it will pick someone else. And it might not be you.” 

She slapped him for that, but it looked like it hurt her more than him, by the wince on her face. “Don’t give me that crap. Tell me how to work it!” 

“Just speak the incantation inscribed.”

“We already tried that.”

He shrugged. “That’s all it is.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Teach me to use it, and I’ll let you go home.” 

Jim sighed. It was pointless, but he may as well try. 

—

Claire rang the doorbell at the designated house. 

A surly man opened the door. “Yeah? What do you want? No solicitors! Unless you’re a girl scout…no, you’re too old. Are you with the tamale lady?” 

“Hello sir, I’m not here to sell anything, I actually came to ask about the car you had totaled a few days ago.”

“Are you here to hunt down that devil that flipped my baby?!” He gestured to the smashed in car in the driveway. It looked drivable, but one bump away from death. 

“Not quite...I’m actually here to fix it.” 

“Fix it? You want to fix that? My mechanic couldn’t even fix it! And you want to! What are you, 15?” 

“17, actually.” 

“I doubt you have the experience for this, little lady.” 

“Oh, I’m not a mechanic, I’m a sorceress.” 

“A what now?” 

“Sorceress, a witch! Do I have permission to fix your truck?” 

“Girlie, if you can fix my truck, I’ll owe you a huge favor.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that!” With a little skip, Claire went over to the truck and rested her hands on the hood. “Ad initium redire...” Her hands glowed purple, and pulsed against the metal, making it groan. Then it began to twist and crunch, popping out dents and welding pieces back together. 

The old man stood in shock as his beloved truck knit back together, and when she was done, it was in perfect condition. 

“How did—where did you—?!” He rounded the car, circling it like a vulture. “It’s perfect! You even took out that bump from years ago! You’re a miracle worker, girlie!” 

Claire fell on her butt on the driveway, dizzy and winded. “Glad to help.” 

“You alright?” 

“Just a little winded. I’m still getting used to using magic, especially without a staff. It’s exhausting.” 

“Well why don’t you take a seat up on the porch instead of the road? I’ll get you a beer.” 

“I’m seventeen.” 

“You’ve earned it!” 

Claire chuckled to herself and climbed to her feet. She followed the man up his steps and took a seat on the porch swing while he went inside. 

Only a minute later, he returned with beers in hand. “Here you are darlin’. Summertime ale. I’m partial to dark ale myself, but my neighbor got me this pale ale. It’s pretty good! You have a favorite?” 

Claire took a sip and tried to hide the grimace. “I don’t really get to drink very often, unless it’s a special occasion.” 

“Right right, we’ll keep it our little secret. Now then, I owe you a favor. You just saved me a whole chunk of change and a basket of anxiety. You must have something in mind since you offered?” He suddenly sat up straight. “Oh god, you don’t want my soul do you?” 

Claire snorted. “No no, you can keep your soul! Don’t know what I would do with it anyways...You know the boy that damaged your truck in the first place?” 

“I only saw a glimpse of him, that blue devil? What about him?” 

“He’s actually my boyfriend, and he’s really very sweet and usually not like this. But he was...fed something he shouldn’t have had and it made him go berserk.” 

“Crying shame.” 

“I’ll say! So the army came in and took him away! They wouldn’t listen to us at all!” 

“So what do you want me to do about it?” 

“We are going to run a campaign to get him out. Hopefully, if we get enough attention on the issue, they’ll let him go.” 

“Oh, I gotcha.” 

“So if you could just...spread the truth around town? He’s actually the one that stopped that troll invasion back at the beginning of summer.” 

The man looked surprised at that. “No kidding, that was him? Well, he’s a local hero! He’s been talked about a lot since then! Sure I’ll set the record straight! What’s this kid’s name?”

“Jim Lake Jr.” 

“Got it! Don’t worry, I’ll bring it up at the lodge, and the rotary, and the chess club...”

—

The phone was ringing, he had been successfully patched through. Strickler sat in his office after hours, wanting to make the call as private as possible. 

“Stricklander, I haven’t heard from you since the fall of the Janus order. What reason have you called on me?” 

“Can’t I just call an old friend to catch up?”

“You? No.”

Walt cracked a smile. “Fine. I need a favor.” 

“Changeling to changeling, or school principal to army general?” 

“The latter, actually.” 

The man on the other line laughed. “Color me intrigued.” 

“You know of the human Trollhunter, correct?”

“Just what you wrote in your dossier, a human male, 16 years old, lives in Arcadia Oaks, California, turned half-troll by the wizard Merlin. Responsible for the death of Bular and Gunmar. Quite a remarkable young soul. Is there anything else to know?”

“He’s been captured by the United States Army.”

The man let out half a chuckle. “Captured? What dumb trouble did he get into?”

“His deadbeat father left out some cocaine for the boy to find, he thought it was trash, and ate it.”

Distantly on the other line, there was laughter, a strong bark of laughter that lasted far too long. When he came back, he was calm. “How unfortunate.” 

“He’s a good kid. Why would there be a kilogram of cocaine in the trash anyways? I fail to see the humor in the situation.” 

“Of course. So, I assume, he went on a rampage following his meal, and then attracted the attention of some of us?” 

“So you haven’t heard about it?” 

“Not where I’m stationed. But give me a moment.” The line went silent, only a very distant and quiet tapping of keys on a keyboard being tapped. Then the man returned. “I’m glad you told me about this. This incident hasn’t been reported to our database. That shows evidence of misconduct. Did you get the name of the commanding officer responsible, by chance?” 

“Colonel Kubritz, I believe.” 

More typing. “Area 49-B.”

“That name was also passed around.” 

“Technically not my jurisdiction, and since she didn’t report it, I’m not supposed to know about it.”

“I’m afraid you will officially know about it soon.” 

“Oh?”

“His friends and family, myself included, are going to put on a protest for his freedom. Drawing attention to the situation.” 

That echoing laughter was back again. 

“It wasn’t my idea, in case you were wondering.” 

“I know, you wouldn’t come up with something so bold. Regardless, go ahead in through with it. I’ll make sure whatever protest happens gets brought to my superior’s attention, and then I will take it from there.” 

“Thanks. I will owe you one.” 

“Oh come now, Walter, we Changelings that survived the Fall of the Janus order have to stick together. Besides, I heard rumors that you’re caring for my familiar?”

“He’s still in the cradle stone, and the moment. One baby at a time, for now.” 

“Then we’re even. Besides, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in a while. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“Your kindness is refreshing. I’m glad Gunmar didn’t eat you.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“We’ll be in touch then, Samuel.” 

“Of course, Walter.” 

—

“How goes the car repair?” Asked Merlin, as he met up with Toby and Claire in the park. 

“Ugh, exhausting. First I stopped at the mechanics, and they’re still backed up with fixing other cars. Apparently, Gunmar’s army did a number and backed them up for months. But they gave me the names of all the clients who got totaled from Jim. I had to hit the scrap yard for four of them, and I just finished another two in driveways.” 

“How many does that leave you with?”

“Seven more,” she sighed. “How goes the road work?”

“It goes. Now come along, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He didn’t wait for them to follow as he turned and started walking away. 

Sharing a dubious look, Toby and Claire quickly caught up with him. He led them to a bookstore, where a young man was sweeping outside. 

“Hisirdoux, my faithful and loyal apprentice—“

“You're damn straight I’m loyal!” He shouted. “Where have you been? I’ve been cleaning tables for the last 900 years!” 

“Calm yourself boy, I’m here now, aren’t I? And I need your help.” 

“Finally! What is it? Just say the word!”

“I need you to go with Miss Claire Nuñez and help her restore recently smashed vehicles.”

“What?”

“Or, you can repair street damage.” 

Douxie crossed his arms. “What is this? I saw what happened! There were trolls, and evidence of Morgana! And now you need my help? To clean up, several months later?”

“That is correct.” 

“Why didn’t you call for me back then?!”

“I forgot.” 

“You forgot? About me?”

“Oh come now, don’t take it personally. I was busy trying to prepare the Trollhunter to fight Gunmar. And get my magic back from Morgana.” 

Douxie seemed to become more sympathetic at that. “Morgana stole your magic?” 

“Yes, but it’s all in the past now. Everything is fine. Well, not really. Seems that the US Army has declared the Trollhunter as a menace to society. We must get the trust of the city on our side if we are to get them to trust us, and agree that his capture is unjust.” 

“Please,” said Claire. “We need all the help we can get.” 

Douxie sighed. “Alright. Afterwards, you’re training me again.” He gave Merlin a hard look. “And no amateur magic either. I’ve been doing the same drills for 900 years. I think I’m ready for more advanced work.”

“Oh, you will be. Starting with helping Miss Nuñez field her shadow magic.”

Douxie looked at her, in awe. “You’re practicing shadow magic? Truly?”

“It’s a recent development…”

“She took Morgana’s Skathe-Hrün, and wielded it without any training. Because of that she has a tether to Morgana in the Shadow realm, who has been teaching her ever so slightly. I’m not allowed to train her, but she could use the guidance of a Wizard in the physical realm. Do you understand Hisirdoux?” 

“I do, and I’ll be happy to teach her…I’m just…I’ll need a moment or two to digest the sentence you just said.” 

“Well, don’t take too long, we have a Trollhunter to rescue!” 

—

There was a heavy knock on the door, which was never a good thing. Especially nowadays. 

Still, Barbara went to the door. 

Standing there was Detective Scott and James Lake Sr. 

“Does this belong to you?” Asked the detective. 

“I don’t claim him, no.” 

Her almost ex-husband smiled at her, pleadingly, “Please Babs?” 

“What is he even doing out? You arrested him!”

“About that…” Detective Scott winced. “We don’t have enough to keep him on.” 

“What!” She shouted. “He confessed in front of a bunch of people!”

“Which would be helpful if we had a case for a trial. But as it stands, he doesn’t actually have any drugs on him. And we don’t have a confession on tape. So…we’re shit out of luck.” 

“Oh come on Louis, you know the cocaine came from him! Where else would Jim have gotten it from?” 

“Look, the chief’s not thrilled that we didn’t arrest the guy responsible for trashing the town, but we’re supposed to arrest someone else without evidence?” 

Barbara threw her hands up in the air. “With probable cause!” 

“That doesn’t work with drug dealers. He’s clean, Barbara. All the blood tests came back clean too.” 

“Ugh.”

The house shook slightly, and Barbara felt the floor bow behind her. “Is there a problem, officer?” Asked Draal. 

“Nothing you can help with, Draal. Thank you.” Barbara sighed. “James is not being charged.” 

“But he is a criminal, this degenerate flesh bag poisoned the Trollhunter! He should face banishment for his crimes!” 

James withered a little with the glare Draal gave him. 

“Well,” said Officer Scott. “Maybe you can keep an eye on him from now on. If you have evidence that he is dealing, like physical traces of cocaine on the premises, call us. But for now, there’s not much else we can do.” 

“This is ludicrous.”

“I know, I’m sorry Barbara. How is Jim?”

She frowned. “You haven’t heard? The army came and collected him from the hospital!”

Louis sputtered. “The army came?!”

“Yes!”

“Where were they when Gunmar was terrorizing us?” He scoffed. “Again, sorry Barbara, I can’t help you here.” 

“It’s alright. We’ve got a plan.” 

“Love to hear it, but I’ve got to get back to the office. I’m sure Toby will tell Darci, and she’ll tell me. Good luck!” And he left James on the porch. 

“Babs, I’m sorry…” 

“Save it.” Barbara scoffed, but allowed him in the house. 

Draal never took his eyes off the man. 

“Well, you’ll be happy to know I have no more supply. And after Rudy found out what happened to my last Kilo, she’s not getting anymore for me. So…”

“I’ll have to thank Jim for keeping a kilogram of Cocaine off the streets of Arcadia. We have a fairly low rate of drug use around here, and we don’t need you to ruin people’s lives.” 

James sighed, knowing he had dodged a huge bullet by being let off the hook. He’d rather deal with his wife than with his ex-associates in jail any day. “I think I’ve still ruined people’s lives anyway.” He walked into the living room, only to halt at the signs on the table. 

Release Jim Lake Jr. 

Justice for Jim

Let Lake Go!

“Babs, what is all this?”

“That’s part of our plan to free Jim! I’m friends with the councilwoman, and she suggested that we campaign for his release. Bringing a lot of unwanted attention onto his capture will stir the government to let him go!”

James jutted out his jaw, a sign of barely concealed rage. An expression Barbara had grown very used to in the last few months. “So, you’re going to put his name—my name in the news? You’re going to broadcast what city we live in?” 

“Yes.” 

He whirled on her, grabbing her arm. “Babs, people are looking for me! Horrible, mean, and ruthless people! If you put his name out there, they’ll know where to look!” 

“All the better! Then they can come take you off my hands!” 

“You don’t understand! I owe them a lot of money, and they’ll take it anyway they can! That includes extorting you, Jim, and whoever else they connect with me!” 

Draal stepped in, removing his hand from Barbara’s arm. “This house is under my protection. If anyone dare tries to enter, they will be dealt with swiftly.”

“You don’t know what these men are capable of.” 

“I assure you, I’ve decimated armies of flesh bags in my day. These men are no different.”  

Barbara smiled. “If you’re really that scared, I hear Vermont is lovely this time of year.” 

James just narrowed his eyes, before storming out of the room.

—

The first rally took place from 3pm to dusk, starting from after school, and leading up to when Trolls would be able to participate. Granted, it was only a handful of people, but standing in the middle of downtown did garner a lot of attention. More than a dozen people walking past had stopped to ask about the cause. They were then given a short synopsis of the situation, as it pertained to them:

“Jim is a 16 year old student who was chosen by the trolls to be our protector. He willingly gave up his humanity to defeat Gunmar the Black, the monstrous troll that attacked the city at the beginning of the summer. Now, he looks like a troll, and was sabotaged to go into a rage and damage the city. The US army took him away without a trial! He’s a hero to the city, and deserves fair treatment!”

Reactions ranged from: 

“Oh, he stopped that thing?”

To:

“Oh my god! He’s just a child!” 

Overwhelmingly, there was no negative feedback, at least in person. But it was only day one. 

—

“This daylight...is it significant?” The colonel asked, as she circled his table. 

“It’s just a name.” Jim lied. “A sword with a name is stronger than one without.” 

“Interesting. Interesting indeed. According to my notes, trolls turn to stone in daylight. Any correlation there?” 

So she already knew? Then what was the point? Was she just playing with him?

“I’m the Trollhunter, and I fight bad trolls. It would make sense to name my sword after something they’re afraid of.” 

She hummed. “And what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Are you afraid of daylight?” 

“Why would I be?” 

The colonel laughed. “Oh Jim Lake Jr. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met. You are honest and forthcoming with truths that work in your favor. You freely told me of your transformation, and of your victory against a Troll tyrant. But now that I’m edging on the topic of your weakness, you clam up and give me vague answers. I can do this all day, beast. What does daylight do to you?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t do anything to me.” 

“Really? Even as a troll? That’s interesting.” 

“It’s fortunate.” 

“I would say so. Though, now you’ve got me curious. These burns on your skin…where did they come from?” She dragged her fingernail over one of the dark marks.

Jim winced. “I don’t know. I wasn’t aware in my rage state.”

“Then you won’t mind if I find out for myself?” She crooked a finger towards the shadows. Jim could hear the creak of wheels before a lamp with several fixtures was wheeled forward. 

“Oh no…”

“UV lights, all different wattages. Let’s see what works the best, hmm?”

—

ARCADIA TRIBUNE

Justice for Jim

By Nadja Chamack 

Who is Jim Lake Jr. anyway? This is a question I asked myself as I drove downtown three days ago. No doubt, you’ve seen the crowd of students and teachers holding signs on the corner of Main and State Street. It’s pretty hard to miss, quite honestly. Among the students, there’s also Councilwoman Nuñez, and resident Troll Mascot, ARRRGH! Signs range from ‘Justice for Jim’ to ‘Free our Lake’. 

But who is Jim Lake Jr.? And what happened? A precursory search on my end showed only a scant few facts. Jim is a student at Arcadia Highschool, in his Junior year. He was nominated as Spring Fling King last year, and played the part of Romeo in the school play. His criminal record seemed pretty clean too. A misdemeanor for scratching a rental scooter was all that showed up. But hey, who hasn’t done that?

So I went to the source, his family and friends campaigning for him. On Saturday, the group was downtown, campaigning all day long, so I had the chance to interview each and every person about why they were there.

Turns out, Jim Lake Jr. might be the most amazing person in Arcadia. 

From his mother, Dr. Barbara Lake, I learned that Jim is an Arcadia native, born and raised here. He enjoys cooking gourmet food, working on his vespa, and acting. 

Oh, and he’s the first human Trollhunter. 

What? You’ve never heard of a Trollhunter? Me neither. But Barbara and Blinky, another resident Troll, gave me the scoop. 

You all remember that night at the beginning of the summer that we all promised not to talk about? Well, I’m going to talk about it. In fact, I’m here to give you all the answers you’ve been craving. 

Many months before that fateful night, a new Trollhunter was chosen, after the previous one had perished. “The Trollhunter is chosen according to his mettle, by the amulet of the Trollhunter, as created by Merlin, the wizard of Arthurian legend. Jim was chosen after the fall of Kanjigar, his predecessor. Jim is the first human to be chosen, also the smallest and weakest. But, he was the first to defeat Bular, son of Gunmar!” Said his mentor, Blinky. None of this made any sense to me at first, though it was said with great enthusiasm. 

It turns out, the trolls that we’ve gotten used to seeing around town, mostly ARRRGH, are ‘good’ trolls. The bad trolls, ‘Gum-gums’ are what invaded our town and destroyed my car. The Trollhunter’s whole job is to fight off these bad trolls, and gnomes, and goblins, and everything else that goes bump in the night. And so he did. The Gum-Gums invaded from the ‘Darklands’, being led by a fearsome troll named Gunmar the Black, the Skullcrasher, the Dark Lord…he had a lot of names, and it was obviously a bad dude. Gunmar had plans to invade the whole world by blotting out the sun, a.k.a the eclipse we saw. And he would have gotten away for it too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids! 

Mainly Jim Lake Jr. and his friends. 

And how does a sixteen year old defeat a couple millennia old, bloodthirsty, all powerful tyrant? With a fancy sword? Close. With some magical armor? Closer. By giving up a part of his humanity and becoming a half-human, half-troll hybrid? Now you’re getting it! Yes, to protect Arcadia, to protect us, Jim Lake Jr. allowed himself to be changed. You may have seen him around town. Blue skin, big horns...okay, I just described most of the trolls that are around here. 

“Jim works the night shift at my store,” said Stu Harding, owner of Thrifty Furnishings. “He’s a very hard worker, and always willing to do the heavy lifting that is hard for the other employees to do.” 

“Despite his appearance, Jim ultimately decided to attend school,” said Principal Walter Strickler. “After the school found out about why he had missed so many days of school, they were willing to move him onto the next grade to be with his peers. He was a good student before all this, and he fought really hard to keep his grades up regardless. We felt he should still have the opportunity to graduate. We were looking forward to having him on our football team, and in our spring production of Beauty and the Beast.” 

So what happened to Jim? And why is there such a big campaign for his freedom?

Well, the truth is that Jim is a victim of unfortunate circumstances. In more ways than one, obviously. Trolls eat our trash. That’s why Arcadia has such a small carbon footprint! (Be sure to thank ARRRGH next time you see him!) And this trait was adopted by Jim too, when he was transformed. 

“He just picked a bunch of items out of the trash. Cans, an old sock, and what looked like a VHS wrapped in duct tape,” said Jim’s best friend, Toby Dolmzalski. “It was a normal lunch for him. But right in the middle of gym class, he turned crazy town banana pants and took off! I had never seen Jim act like that! Ever!” 

After an 8 hour rage through town, Jim collapsed and was taken to the hospital for evaluation. It turns out what Jim had ingested turned out to be a kilogram of pure cocaine! 

At this time, it is unknown where the cocaine came from, or if it was planted purposefully. (Seriously, who throws away a kilogram of cocaine?)

But the damage that Jim caused was extensive enough to catch the attention of the US army, who has taken Jim into captivity from the hospital. No trial, no rights, they even took him while he was unconscious. His friends and family have not heard from him since. 

“I’m so worried,” said girlfriend, Claire Nuñez. “He was injured from the battle with Gunmar, and didn’t completely heal. In the hospital, he was covered in burns from the sun. I have no idea if they’re caring for him properly, or dissecting him like some creature. But he deserves so much better than this. He saved our town, he saved my life, and the life of my baby brother. That’s why we won’t rest until he’s home!” 

“Not bad,” said ARRRGH, long time friend of Jim. “Good troll have bad days, best trolls have worse days. Jim need some good days.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself, ARRRGH. 

Friends and family of Jim are asking everyone share #JusticeforJim on social media, hoping to get the attention of someone in charge. All the damage caused by Jim has been repaired, and there were no casualties from his attack.  

Of course, the whole ‘troll’ aspect of this story has to be a local legend. So when sharing it to social media, kindly leave that part out.   

—

“C-Bomb!” Mary shouted from the other end of the hall. She came running and almost crashed into Claire and Toby, holding her phone up in the air. “My twitter feed is blowing up, girl! Look at all of this!” She held the screen up so they could see. 

“Citizen abducted by the government, is this China or North Korea? Neither! It’s the US! #JusticeforJim” 

“Imagine if this was your son. So sad, and so scary! #JusticeforJim”

“This is real life, not science fiction #JusticeforJim” 

“Whoa, where did these all come from?” Asked Claire. “What did you post?” 

“Did you know Snapper Karr did a report on it!?”

“Snapper Karr? From KTTV in LA?” 

“Yes! Thankfully, he left out the whole troll thing. I’ll send you a link. In his story, Jim is just a kid that has a rare genetic disorder that makes him look different, and so the government took him away!” 

Claire winced. “This is…kind of spiraling out of control.”

“I don’t know why you’re worrying, Claire,” said Darci. “We want people talking about Jim getting abducted. It doesn’t matter if the world outside Arcadia doesn’t have all the facts. They still know he’s been taken away without a trial, and that’s all that’s important. Besides, Jim doesn’t want the whole world knowing about Trolls, right?”

She nodded. “As long as this works, I’ll be happy.” 

“And sensationalist stories like this blow up for like a week, and then they die out and are forgotten. This won’t last.” Mary waved her hand. “It should work long enough to get Jimmy Jam out though.” Then she squealed. “OMG you know what we should do?! We should totally have a welcome home party! Or-or a parade! Like they have for veterans!” 

“Mary, I don’t think—“ 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it! You’re not the only one with ties to the city!” And she hurried off, texting frantically. 

“What’s up Claire? I would have thought you’d be ecstatic the hashtag went viral.” Asked Toby. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I am happy. And I’m happy that Snapper Karr chalked the troll thing up to local legend or superstition…but I can’t help but worry that something bad is going to come out of this.” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling.” She scoffed and went to her locker. “It’s dumb, don’t worry about it.” 

No sooner had she said that, did Strickler appear. “Claire, Toby, come with me.” 

“What?” 

“I’ve already spoken with your teachers, now come along.” 

Claire and Toby shared a look, but followed regardless.

—

They were led to the parking lot, where a black van with tinted windows waited, a huge red flag, if there ever was one. 

“Umm…” said Toby. 

“Don’t worry.” Strickler assured. 

A man in an army uniform stepped out of the driver seat. “Walter, good to see you again.”

“Glad to see you as well, Samuel. And thank you for following through with your promise.” 

“As I said, this is the most interesting thing to happen in a while.” He glanced at the two teenagers in attendance. “We’re just waiting for his mother, correct?” 

“She should be here soon.”

Toby muttered to Claire, “Who’s Jorgen Von Strangle over here?”

“No idea.”

And just like that, Barbara pulled into the parking lot, haphazardly parked, and ran over to them, still in her scrubs. “I came as soon as I could! We’re going to get Jim?!” 

“What?!” Screamed Toby. “We’re rescuing him?!” 

“That is the goal,” the man answered. “I’m General Samuel Attila. I’ve been given authorization to intervene in this situation, given that this project, whatever it is, hasn’t been officially recorded. But, bear in mind, you may not like what you see. We may be bringing home Jim, or just his body. I don’t know. So if anyone is uncomfortable with that idea, I suggest you stay behind.” 

“I’m going,” Said Toby. “No matter what.” 

“Me too,” said Claire. “It’ll hurt, but I want to know what happened to him.” 

“Alright, then let’s hurry. The facility is about an hour away.” He ushered everyone into the van, which had two front seats, two benches along the walls, and a gurney in the middle. As soon as everyone was buckled, they headed out.

“Hey, if you know Mr. Strickler, does that mean you’re a…?” 

“A what, Toby?” Asked Walt, with a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“A…man of culture?”

“Yes, I am a changeling.” 

Toby exhaled. “Okay, it’s like super hard to ask that question when you don’t know who knows, you know?” 

“I owe the Trollhunter a debt of gratitude for stopping Gunmar. After he ate the entirety of the Janus order, we the few that weren’t present for his return stayed in hiding. Had Gunmar taken over the world, my death as a traitor would have been slow and painful. We were thinking about sending him a thoughtful gift basket, but I think this is more fun. I love to bully those in lower ranks. The fleshbags get a few pretty badges and think they’re invincible. I love watching them cower!” 

Toby leaned closer to Claire. “He was so nice and helpful, I was beginning to wonder if he was actually a changeling.” 

“Same! But I actually feel better knowing he’s got ulterior motives, and that they have nothing to do with us.” 

“Have you heard from Nomura lately?” Samuel asked Walter. 

“She was in Arcadia for a while. She helped with the fight with Gunmar. Right now, I believe she’s on her way back from New Jersey.” 

“New Jersey? What was she doing out there?”

“After Morgana and Gunmar destroyed the Heartstone, Jim and Blinky went in search of a new one.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot there were rumors of a source in New Jersey. Did they find it?” 

“Yep,” said Claire. “But it wasn’t very big, so we brought it back to Arcadia in a truck. The rest of the tribe is making their way back on foot.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Samuel nodded. “You’re both very lucky. Not many Changeling’s are allowed in Trollmarket.” 

“Now that Gunmar’s out of the picture, I’m sure you could visit too!” Toby exclaimed, before getting elbowed in the gut by Claire. 

“It’d be nice to see it once. I’m sad I didn’t get to see the Heartstone in its glory, but such is life.”

The rest of the ride continued in relative silence. Strickler and Samuel spoke to each other, mostly catching up. But Toby, Claire, and Barbara were far too anxious to keep up with the conversation. 

There were no windows in the back of the vehicle, so there was no way of knowing where they were. From the front, they looked to be in a weaving forest trail. 

Then there were huge cement walls in front of them. 

Samuel pulled in the front gate. 

The man at the gate didn’t look up from his computer. “You’re not authorized to be here.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t recognize your vehicle, so I know you don’t have clearance.” 

Samuel sat up a little straighter, glaring at the soldier at the gate. “How about you scan my badge first, and then tell me if I have clearance, Lieutenant.” 

The soldier gave a little shrug and reached out for the badge, his eyes widening as he caught a glance at the four stars on the man’s shoulder. “Oh.” 

“Problem?”

“No, sir. I just…I don’t need to scan your badge, you can go in.” 

“Thank you. At ease soldier.” 

Toby held back a snicker.

“And, let Colonel Kubritz know she has company.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“As you were.” 

The gate rolled open, and they pulled through. 

It seemed like Samuel’s message was received pretty quickly, because the woman that had taken Jim was waiting for them, flanked by soldiers with strange weapons. 

“Stay in the car.” He told everyone, before getting out. 

“I was not aware of any sort of inspection. You are not my commanding general, and therefore not welcome here. This facility holds highly dangerous equipment and confidential projects.”

“Stand down, Colonel. I am here on behalf of general Adele. I’m here to recover Jim Lake Jr. General Adele will be speaking to you about your discharge.” 

“What are you talking about?” She demanded. 

“You kidnapped a teenage boy from a hospital. Surely you didn’t think that wouldn’t go unnoticed? I have video evidence of you leaving the hospital with him.” 

“He’s not a normal boy—“ 

“I’d say so! His whole town is hailing him as a hero for saving them from an invasion! I thought this facility was for research on protecting Earth from invaders. And you’re punishing a boy for saving a town?” 

“He also destroyed it. Don’t give into their little campaign. Jim Lake Jr. may have done something good once, but that doesn’t stop him from being a monster.” 

“I was just in Arcadia, Colonel. There is no damage. There’s no lawsuits against Jim Lake Jr. There’s not even any pending arrests.” 

“I have video evidence of his destruction!” She barked. 

“Then let the local police handle it.” 

She growled, then commanded her men to stand down. “Fine. But if he does this again, no one will stop me from taking him.” 

“Actually,” he clarified with a smirk. “You’re being discharged. So you won’t have any means to take him again.” 

Her mouth opened in shock, as she fought to find an argument. 

But he was a general, he was above her. 

“Now, Jim Lake Jr.?” 

She grumbled something and started off towards a big central building.

Samuel was quick to beckon the others out of the car to follow him, and headed towards the same building as Kubritz. 

When Barbara reached them, she spoke, “you didn’t hurt my son, did you?” 

Kubritz didn’t even look at her. “I don’t have to share information with civilians.” 

Claire clenched her fists in anger, a black haze coming over her hands. 

But Toby simply patted her on the back to ground her. 

Colonel Kubritz led them through the research facility, ignoring their questions. 

They reached the room Jim was being held in, and she entered her code to open the door. 

Of course, Jim wasn’t the only thing in the room, being surrounded by specimens of all sorts of living creatures, but he was right in the center, with a spot light right on him. 

“Jim!” Claire shouted first as she ran to him. 

The poor boy was naked, lying on his back and strapped to the table with thick iron bonds. His wound from Morgana wasn’t the worst on him anymore, as he was covered in blackened burned spots. The spot that had the amulet was now just a hole in his chest, that went right down to the ribs. Claire could see his heart beating, and his lungs moving, thank god. 

“Jim...” she cried, seeing the carnage. 

“What did you do to him?!” Toby shouted at the Colonel, but she didn’t respond. 

“Honey? Jim? Can you hear me?” Barbara asked, as she assessed the damage. 

His eyes opened ever so slightly. “Mom? Is that you? Are you...really here?” 

“Yeah kiddo,” she wiped some tears from her eyes. “It’s me, I’m here. Toby, Claire, and Walt are here too. We’re going to take you home.” 

His smile was just a hint, and he stated, “I’m tired.” 

“I’m sure you are. We’re going to get you fixed up!” She turned to the Colonel. “Get me a gurney or a wheelchair!” 

She scoffed. “I don’t take orders from civilians.” 

Samuel interceded. “Then get me a soldier who isn’t completely incompetent! If you’re going to continue to endanger the life of this young man, then I suggest you get out of my sight before I endanger yours.” 

The Colonel didn’t waver, though a tremor went down her spine. “Lieutenant!” She called. 

A man hurried into the room, standing at attention.

Kubritz just gave a roll of the eyes. “Follow whatever order the general gives you.” 

“But—“ 

“No, I’m done.” With one last glare to Samuel, she added, “I'll be sending my evidence to General Adele, then we’ll see who’s the one putting the nation in danger.” 

“Go ahead, I’ve already given my report.”

She growled at him, turned and left without another word. 

The lieutenant just stood at attention in front of Samuel instead. “Orders sir?”

“Get someone to fetch the gurney from the back of our van, and send for the medic! And get someone to get these shackles off this kid!” 

“Sir yes sir!” 

Meanwhile, Claire stood right by Jim’s side, holding his hand, brushing the bangs away from his face and combing his hair with her fingers. He had a pretty strong fever. 

“You’re going to be alright Jim. We’re going to take good care of you.” 

“I’m…cold…” He breathed. 

Barbara found some vinyl gloves nearby and got to work examining her boy. “I don’t know about the Troll half, but this tissue looks alright. I don’t see any infection yet, or any tissue death. Of course, we need to get this covered immediately.” 

“Where’s the amulet?” Asked Walt. “That’s what’s missing.” 

“The amulet!” Barbara addressed Samuel. “His amulet, we have to find it!” 

He nodded, “we can’t let these psychos have it. They have no idea what magic it possesses, even without being the chosen wielder.” 

Only a beat passed before the army medic came with the gurney, and another soldier came with a crowbar to undo the shackles. 

“Lieutenant, we’re looking for an amulet that came with Jim. It’s what’s missing from his chest.” 

The Lieutenant blanched. “I don’t know anything about it…I can ask the Colonel?”

“She won’t tell.” 

The shackles fell free from Jim’s limbs, but he didn’t seem to register it. 

“Alright,” said Barbara, “Let’s move him onto the gurney. We can worry about the amulet later.” It took everyone to lift him and carefully slide him over. Then, he was covered up to his stomach with a blanket. 

“You’re going home, Jim. Mi amor, you’re safe now.” Claire whispered, kissing his forehead. 

“Hmm…” Jim weakly groaned. “…for the…glory…” But before he could finish, he fell back into sleep.

[katsukikitten]

Weighted

A/N @zbops for you bb as per your request. I hope that this lives up to at least half of your expectations. Thank you so much for supporting me and for encouraging me. Enjoy it and may it help you just a bit more. I send my love XOXO Kitten 💋

It was not unlike you to occasionally stay up late into the night. Late enough to see the moon rise high in the inky black sky watching the constellations move by at a lazy pace.

But to lie awake long enough to greet the sun was abnormal.

At least it was supposed to be abnormal now. Before it was your normal to lose sleep as fat droplets slid from unblinking eyes. Thoughts consuming you with nothing and everything at once.

You thought yourself better.

Not cured, not immune, but well.

Fine and level headed for once.

Yet here you lie again unable to will your exhausted body to sleep as you replay failures from pasted years.

Like an old film one must study to improve but every time it is rewatched another haunting flaw jumps out.

And there is nothing you can do to right your wrong.

Frustrated tears well in your eyes now as you watch the clock for the second week in a row burn an obnoxious 3 am into your retina.

Furious as you thought you had put this problem in its place. That you had long ago learned how to make your demon small and to lock it away.

As with everything in life it adapted, slipping through the bars of its cage only to find itself looming over you once more. Delighting in your anguish as it exploits the coping mechanism you developed.

Turning it on its head to haunt you, to hurt you. To put you in your place as you thought you did it.

Although it knows this will be enough to pain you, it wants to do more.

Truly a petty being as it steals your voice, worming into your head just to whisper.

"Did you really think a few extra hours of training a day would make a difference? That you would suddenly be  sought after as a pro hero? You could barely get an apprenticeship and look at how you're failing at that!"*

This dredges up your failure from last week, your first offical mission as apprentice.

What was supposed to be a normal patrol quickly unraveled into a full on street brawl.

You aided your hero holding down the perpetrators bodies with your quirk, straining to keep them in place.

There were tenty or so overpowered drug enhanced strength quirks fighting the pull you placed on them. 

Your arm pangs now, reminding you of how it threatened to snap beneath the own weight of your quirk.

"Useless." Its laugh echoes in your ear.

Your temper flares, fist smashing the small black box that mocks you with the time before you rise. Dressing into your training clothes, sliding on your weighted vest as your bruises groan against it. You push your already consistent 1.5 times Earth's gravity pull to a consistent 2.5 for now.

Hands grab for your phone and headphones before fumbling to find your key in your amassed returning symptoms. Throwing piles of clothes, books, and homework onto other piles of  long neglected items.

Irritation mixed with a twinge of panic sets in as you look for your FOB that accesses not only the gym you are so desperate to use but also it accesses your dorm building as your dorm room key rests on a chain around your neck. Your memory works overtime as you wonder where it could have been placed.

Was it it Kirishima's room?

Or Bakugou's?

Who's room did the three of you spend the night in last?

You cannot remember, time all runs together much like a watercolor painting caught in the rain.

Colors bleed and the world dips into sun bleached greys as you think of the two of them.

Had you even texted either of them good night?

When was the last time you told them you loved them?

You pick up your phone, bloomed bruised hand winking back at you before the phone obliterates into metal and glass confetti at your feet.

"Fuck." You hiss having forgotten that you had the gravitational pull around your hands as well. Damning yourself for being so careless although you are still careless enough to walk over the shrapnel with bare feet.

It is then you find your key FOB lying in the middle of the chaotic room which you snatch greedily before locking your post nuclear bomb room away.

And with that the thoughts of ash blonde and ruby red hair.

You slink on guilty feet in the shadows of the hall, the moon your only witness as you make your way outside.

The air is cool agaisnt your heated skin, hinting that fall is almost over. That winter will be sure to rear its ugly head and harshly at that.

As if to prove a point an icy wind cuts through your skin deep into your bones, you sigh out upping the force on your body.

The gym is a short walk from the dorm, the night caressing you with soft fingers as it guides you to the thick metal door.

A worried gulp echoes back at you as your hand hovers just before the panel. FOB just out of range to be scanned.

Last time a student was on rest probation their key could only work if Sensei scanned theirs as well.

With gritted teeth you bring the key to kiss smooth plastic. For a moment you're sure it will flash red but when it beeps with a flash of glorious green you cannot help the small smile that spreads across your lips.

They must have forgotten to add those restrictions to yours, that or they didn't think you would disobey your physical therapist and other Sensei.

It doesn't take long before you're sweating.

And the more you swing the harder you make the gravitational pull on your body. The floor groans from the pressure as you push the pull towards you beyond limits for a recovering body, 3.5 times Earth's normal pull.  Sweat slides down a bruised nape and drips into now stinging eyes.

You do little to alleviate the pain or sweat that is trying so hard to blind you.

Another swing of your weighted fists has your bones creaking, muscles burning while you have half a mind to add more sand to your wrist and ankle bands.

Hell maybe even more to your vest although it presses against your sternum harshly with each step, threatening to snap a rib. You begin to lose the concentration on the areas you want to afflict as the incresed gravitational begins to spread out. The floor groans harder depsite being designed to withstand many powerful quirks.

A hairline fraction fissures through the smooth wood, attempting to snake up the cinderblock wall.

"None of this is going to change anything. You will still be..."

A heated punch hits the dummy hard, causing it to skid but you advance without letting up, snarling.

"Don't fucking say it."

Another hit to the dummy and you've got it cornered agaisnt the wall but still the voice goes on, a smile dancing along its tone as it purrs.

*"Worthless"*

You begin to jab agaisnt the dummy with enough momentum and force that the padding begins to fall away from its "face" revealing unforgiving metal beneath.

Metal that you pound into anyway.

Metal that warps for a moment from being too close to your pull, still your barrage of fists and feet cease to let up.

You follow up a punch with a round house kick increasing the force on your body subconsciously. As you rotate your vest slams heavily into your ribs and an audible crack echoes around the room. 

"Fuck!" You huff slamming your foot against the cool surface, the dummy implodes as you land on your feet.

In that moment the room pops from the pressure as you let up the force. The floor creaks, almost breathing as it returns to normal although now heavily warped. Suddenly you feel as light as a feather. As if at any moment you could float up to the ceiling like a lazy balloon only to get tangled in the harsh overhead lights.

Crimson splatters the floor from your knuckles and spit, hand feathering over your ribs. Sliding beneath dampened fabric, smoothing over already bruised skin. You're sure it will only worsen now that you count, one, two.

Three fucking cracked ribs. Your breaths come out in heavy puffs all echoing back to you as you right your self, eyes seeking out another dummy, ignoring the pain begging you to stop.

But feeling pain was better than feeling that weighted void in your chest.

As if you were a super nova that imploded, pulling everything around you into the darkened abyss.

Turning it all into hollowed nothingness.

The first sparring dummy you spy seems to look at you funny, you rear your fist but before it can make contact a growl cuts out.

"You've done enough little one."

His voice dips low, borderline pissed. It is a warning and one you must obey as the air permeates with salted caramel.

But you're in no mood to deal with Katsuki, no mood to be submissive, obedient or anything relative to feeling at all.

Regardless if it's clearly for your own good. 

All you wanted, needed, was for everything to fade.

And maybe to black.

But it doesn't instead he advances hand finding your wrist with a sharp grip, that softens only to assess. Turning your wrist this way and that with heated calculating eyes, before he rips off your weighted vest with a growl. Lifting your shirt to reveal blush black painted beneath your smooth skin.  His finger prods your ribs and when he counts them in his head he snarls. You watch his muscles twitch as he holds himself. Muscles that had grown twice their size since first year and yet you were left unchanging.

"Training is futile, you'll always be puny."

You rip your wrist free, teeth bared at an already snarling Bakugou.

"Not. Now." You misread his actions beneath the initial rage. He is concerned but all you see is punishment in his eyes 

Disappointment.

You look over Katsuki's sculpted shoulder to see Kirishima waiting at the door with glistening ruby eyes that seem to be torn.

Who does he support? How can he defuse this? 

"You're fucking hurt." The blonde bites out venom.

"I'm fucking fine. Drop it!" You shove past him slamming your shoulder into his. He wants so badly to reach for you. To yank you back to him so you can look him in his angry scarlet eyes.

"Oh so the blood on the floor means you're fine? Your cracked ribs and bruised to fuck all body means you're fine?!" His temper shows with deadly pops that dance along his skin.

You weight him and Kirishima down gently as you leave, hoping it slows them down long enough for you to return to the safety of your dorm room.

Katuski snarls as he walks with leaded feet, as if walking through mud under the influence of a muscle relaxer.  But he and Kirishima have trained with you plenty of times, not to mention they are exposed to your increased pull.

"Maybe we should give them sometime? They are upset, babe." Kirishima offers only to be met with a glowering glare. 

"I've tried listening to you, I've tried it your way and look what has happened." A snarl so low that Kirishima feels his gut twist.

"But..."

"But what?" He turns on his lover quickly, "We gave them two weeks of no contact. This is clearly a symptom we need to bisect before they kill themselves over some stupid fucking training."

Kirishima can do nothing but follow as Bakugou stalks you up the steps that you stomp.

You're seething, steam rising from your skin with each heavy breath as your vision blurs between rational thought and white hot rage.

Rage that is always so easy to give into. Especially when your only other option is immobilzing sadness. Before you know it Bakugou is barking at you from the jamb of the door while your ruby haired boyfriend presses gently against his back.

Trying to remind him that his own irate reaction could further the situation, Bakugou feels it but it is lost as you strip to change. You rip the velcro from your wrists, dropping the fifty pounds weights with a harsh thud. The floor rattles the items on your desk and even the window before you move onto the hundred pound weights on your ankles.

Grumbling as you think of your two hundred and fifty pound vest abandoned in the gym. How hard had Bakugou torn it from your strong yet sleek frame?

Would you have to take it to the support class?

You strip your shirt and then your pants as two sets of red eyes gauge different reactions. 

Rubies widen, shining with the threat of tears. While blood scarlet narrow with burning, hot, wrath.

Katsuki knew you were bruised, he knew you had those broken ribs and he knew you were set out of rehabilitation probation due to injuries but he did not know the extent of them.

And how the fuck could he? What with you locking yourself away in your room, refusing to text them, refusing to eat the meals cooked and left for you.

Refusing help as you promised you would not do.

Katsuki's warning signs of blowing do not go unnoticed, a strong hand wraps around his hip. Squeezing, hoping to convey the softness the ash blonde so desperately needs.

It works, at least as far as his quirk goes. Bakugou Katsuki  could erupt in more than one way.

"What. The. FUCK?!" He goes to take a step in but Kirishima keeps his grip tight. But that does not stop the tongue lashing you get. Bakugou takes a large slow breath, as you once taught him and snorts it out like a dragon.

"You promised you would stop doing this..." His voice, once soothing now grating your last nerve, "You fucking promised, damn it."

Kirishima gives another small squeeze before piping up.

"We are just worried about you, love. Very worried." His voice cracks at the end, causing Katsuki to look over his shoulder.

The tears well faster over dancing garnets.

From the weight of the guilt something in you finally snaps. The room blurs as you subconsciously pull the force to you, items slowly crushing beneath the weight as you lunge for the first thing you can wrap burning hands on.

Your desk chair to which your hurl while screaming

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Your hot headed boyfriend catches the chair with ease, exploding it on impact.

With an angry enough blast that the paint on the ceiling and walls peel.

Oh if Bakugou wasn't pissed at you before he was now.

And not angry over the fact that you've thrown something at him.

But over the simple fact that you were hurting in deadly silence. So badly suffering that you cannot even rationally express yourself anymore.

And more over he is pissed he has let it get this far.

The glass of your window shatters behind you, both from your exertion and his explosion pulling you into the here and now.

The room spirals as quickly as you do, suddenly forgetting how to breath. Gasping as a fish does out of water before you fall to your knees. The two men rush to you, fearing you'll lose yourself in your panic. Two sets of strong arms wrap around you both crushing you between them.

"You're okay." Kirishima soothes, "You're okay. Just breathe."

Nails bite into toned flesh though you are unsure which unfortunate mail is receiving the half blood moons as tears prick your eyes. Falling towards the Earth as much as you wish they wouldn't. Your stomach lurches, your side screams but it does not stop the racks of sobs that tremor through your body.

You come undone in the worst way before the very two men you wanted, needed to be strong in front of. There was already a detrimental gap between your development and theirs.  In every fucking aspect you could think of.

Muscle mass.

Durability.

Capability.

The list could go on.

After some time Bakugou coos to you.

"Now tell me what's wrong."

Kirishima places his head between your shoulder blades, reaching out for Bakugou's hand.

"I...I'm behind. I... I cannot even train right." Tears slip over ruddy cheeks that Katuski gently wipes away.

"Behind how?" Kirishima prompts, letting lazy circles trace your stomach.

"On my first mission I get put on recovery suspension, I worked so so so *hard* to even get that hero to agree to take me on and yet I fucked it all up!" Another frustrated sob that has you hiccuping for a moment. You watch Bakugou's face turn to stone as he tries to calm himself.

"I almost died on one of my first big missions. I sat out for a long time, this was a little bit before you transferred." Kirishima admits, "Resting and PT made me stronger."

"Hell I was behind at one point too. I couldn't even fucking pass the provisional!" Katsuki growls at the thought.

"Neither could Todoroki-kun." Kirishima adds.

"But you three...you three are strong. I'm so....weak." With that Bakugou snaps.

"You think I can run with a two hundred fifty pound weight on my chest and keep pace with Iida's jog? Do you think Kirishima could hold down twenty fucking tweaked out villians at once?" His voice is gruff but his hands are soft as he lifts your chin, purposefully making you hold his gaze as he speaks, "Answer me, little one."

"N...no." You sob, Kirishima's strong arm squeezes tigher around your middle, careful to avoid your ribs, as he peppers kisses over your blackened shoulders.

"Just because your body does not reflect mine or Eijiro's does not mean you are weak. You are strong Y/N. Real fucking strong." He kisses you softly, capturing your lips tenderly as Kirishima kisses along your throat.

"Share this weight with us." Bakugou breathes out after pulling away.

"Its not weak to cry or ask for help baby." Kirishima whispers in your ear, your eyes look over your sturdy shoulder before they fall to their hands intertwined. You notice Bakugou's knuckles turning white. Had you really made them worry this much?

"Isn't that right Suki?" Eji asks, resting his chin in your shoulder. Katsuki looks at him for a long time, this man and you have helped him more than he would ever like to admit. But if this is what brought that natural magnetism about you that attracted him in the first place he'd say it 

Fuck, if it brought that blinding smile of yours back to your kissable lips he'd scream if from the fucking roof.

"Yes." He lets out a shaky sigh, "Now please, please let us help you little one."

Searching his eyes you wonder if there will ever be a time when you will stop feeling this way.

When you will stop feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders over little to nothing at all.

When you will stop feeling that black hole that crawled into your chest weighing you down and making you weightless all at once.

When you will stop the haunting feeling of sadness that lingers on the fringes of your every thought, tainting every memory and moment with its shimmering darkness.

You wonder if this cancer, if this demon that has since crawled into your chest and devoured your heart whole will ever die.

Scarlet eyes soften as they rove over your lovely features, strong arms support you from behind and you know what the answer is.

The answer is no.

It will never die, never cease to exist, never leave you alone. It will stay with you until you lie motionless forever and even then it will crawl into your casket cradling your cooling skin.

But you will not stop fighting.

Cannot stop fighting because of the small sliver of a feeling you have now.

The love that resiliently blooms despite the pressure, despite the darkness, despite it being trampled over and fucking over.

You know that these two men are not your worth nor or they your reason for being and even if, Kamisama forbid, you three broke up, you would fight on.

Tooth and nail keeping this demon under the ball of your steel toed boot.

Because in the end, after it is all said in done you will do anything to feel this.

This hope and love that radiates from within. You sigh out a shaky sigh, releasing the tension of your shoulders and the constant pressure you've kept on yourself since that mission, your shoulders sag from relief.

"Thank you, thank you for baring this with me." You squeeze their arms respectively as you speak to them both at once, "I love you."

They speak in unison their two tones melding together and soothing over your skin like an ointment.

"I love you too."