#boy used deliberately vaguely/broadly here

[lickthatbattery]

who wants to be in a weird boy trio with me

[jack-andthestalk]

Our Son, Arc II, Oh Scotland, Chapter 18.

Thanks to @balfeheughlywed for her support and patience for this story and reading it. Also to @notevenjokingfic and @ladyviolethummingbird I value their feedback and appreciate the time they take to read.

When he pushed away from my body less than half an hour ago, albeit grumbling "that is the second time this morning, Sassenach – I am no as young as I used to be."

His voice was full of innuendo and fun. He smiled broadly and a little proudly as he pulled back on his underwear while dropping a quick kiss to my stomach.

It was easy to see Jamie was happy in Boston. It was the pep in his step, the glint in his eye, our constant need to touch (which inevitably led to a lot of sex) or even the current horrendous off-tune singing coming from the shower. When Jamie emerged towel ruffling through his wet hair and a billow of steam trailing after him he reached for me as I passed him, kissing my shoulder and leaving a hand on my hip, "what plans for today?" his tone was muffled as he nuzzled against my ear.

I did not doubt that Jamie would and could make a life here, with us a happy one. That wasn't the issue, though. It was about belonging.

"Well you have that interview in the afternoon with that recruitment consultant, but I thought the three of us could go for dinner tonight?"

Jamie flashed me a warm smile that lifted his whole face. "aye, first family dinner in Boston." He replied simply.

"hmm", I hummed non committedly. Wondering to myself if I told him

how I wished that we were all back in Scotland planning our future there, would he think I was gone mad?

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

Later that morning while Jamie leaned against my kitchen counter, chewing on a slice of toast, face screwed in concentration over an application form, he asked me to list what I thought his strengths were.I wriggled my eyebrows at him and leaned against his hip. "Well, where do I start– mmm" I feigned deliberation placing my forefinger against my bottom lip. "

Jamie grinned back at me, his ears pinking at the tips.

"Oh, aye" he urged mischievously, bringing his slice of toast to my mouth as I took a bite directly from his hand, his fingers brushing over my lips as I chewed.

We heard a long weary sigh behind us, "Are ye feeding Mama?" Willie asked while shuffling into the room. I could almost hear the unsaid 'are ye for real?'

We broke apart guilty,  Willie merely raised his hand before we had a chance to respond "nay mind – but I will be feeding myself, just in case ye get any ideas." Willie looked down his long auburn eyelashes at us.

 Jamie coughed to hide a laugh, and I quickly sourced Willie's breakfast to calm the impatience brewing across his forehead.

"I thought me you and Da could go for dinner tonight", I added cheerfully while pouring juice into a glass for him.Willie stuffed a spoon into his mouth, "Oh, can we go to the place that has the funny shaped pasta?"

"Sure."

"or maybe the pizza place?" he added quickly as an afterthought.

"Well I don't mind where but I thought it would be nice if we could all go together, make it a regular thing" – I gave him a reassuring smile – "You know as a family?"

Willie watched me quizzically and turned his attention to his father.

"Are ye staying a while then Da?"

Jamie looked to me first for reassurance, got it and went to sit in the chair beside Willie. "Aye – I am staying with ye and yer Mama."

Willie snorted "Ye always said ye hated Bost– " A flicker of panic cross Jamie’s face and he cut Willie off, "It doesna matter a pin to me where we live as long as I am with you and yer mama."

 I thought Jamie nudged Willie with his foot, which had zero effect on his son, Willie only shot him a  dubious look and glanced back at me "And what about a Da for the bairn – bending to shovel another spoon to his mouth – "Will Da do that too?" he questioned with a mouthful of cereal muffling his words.

Jamie choked into his coffee cup.

"I am the bairn's Da!, Willie" he replied in a scandalised breath.

Willie chewed his food thoughtfully oblivious to the steady glare from his father.

"But I told ye Da, ye were no here." he corrected while swinging his legs contentedly  as the cereal soothed his irritable mood "��� when the bairn got into Mama's tummy."

"Willie!" – Jamie took a second to strive for a more gentle tone – "It makes no difference that I wasna here when Mama found out – that is not when the bairn got into her tummy – it was only then she realised." He took a long drink from his mug, I could only see from nose up, but going on the set of creases around Jamie’s forehead Willie’s words were affecting him.

"Oh, aye," Willie said, his eyes intrigued.

"When did the bairn get into Mama's tummy then? "Willie glanced at my stomach and then back to Jamie, "– were ye there, Da?" Willie was enthralled now, which given the topic wasn't a great thing. Nonchalance might have been better.

Jamie's face went crimson, and I watched the lump in his throat work up and down, I turned away before he caught me looking at him, afraid to make eye contact in case I burst out laughing and going by the fierce expression on Jamie's face I knew he wouldn't be pleased.

"In a way – I was, aye." He replied into the bottom of his coffee cup.

Willie's eyes squinted together in confusion, "Why did ye no tell Mama so?" another spoon loaded into his open mouth "did ye see it go in Da?"

Jamie stood abruptly from the table and glared at me. "Did ye see me go in Da when I was a bairn?" I don't think I had ever seen Jamie so red.

Willie was on a roll, "Grandda always says I was made in Scotland. That is why I am more Scottish than American." He trailed off for a minute considering "Were ye there in Scotland when I went into Mama's tummy."

"Claire!" Jamie all but growled at me, "ye are the doctor – ye could at least try and help me." He hissed through gritted teeth.

Willie snapped his finger a couple of times, blinking rapidly, trying to draw some information from his brain. 

 "wait wait Da – I ken now – Johnny told me in Scotland."

 Willie jumped up and down excitedly.

  "It's when two grown-ups kiss for too long – they get a bairn then!"

 Slamming his fist down on the table triumphantly "So did ye kiss mama too long in Scotland, and then I got in her tummy?"

 Jamie's mouth opened and closed in quick succession as if he was catching flies. I vaguely wondered if Jamie realised that he hadn't even kissed me the night this baby was conceived. My cheeks blushing as I remembered his hands pushing up my skirt and bending me over the stall. A little shiver of pleasure ran down my spine, and I realised Jamie was smirking at me knowingly.

 Does the bairn get in from your mouth to Mama's?" Willie interrupted our thoughts, bringing us both down to earth with a bang. As an  afterthought he snorted "oh god that's gross Da."

 I coughed loudly to stifle the bellow of laughter awaiting to erupt from my belly.After a few fleeting moments of panic, Jamie seemed to settle on something in his mind before replying.

 "Aye well there is kissing involved – maybe Johnny has a point."

 "well –"Willie gave Jamie a grave look, "Mama has the bairn now so ye dinna need to keep kissing her, aye?"

 Jamie pressed his lips into a thin, wry smile.

 "It's important I practice all the same, son." He crooked his eyebrow at Willie and received nothing but a sigh and a long withering look.

 ___________________________

 Willie lay in bed, a small sliver of light creeping in from the hallway. He hated the dark; he had managed to get his Da to read four bedtime stories and still he didn't feel sleepy at all.

He knew why his Mama had told him before if things were worrying him, it would be harder to sleep and he should always tell her if he was scared or worried.

The pain in Willie's tummy only got worse when he thought of telling his Mama or Da what was troubling him.They were really happy, laughing and giggling all the way through dinner tonight. It minded him of that cartoon when the two skunks fell in love and they made him feel like he would puke because they were so lovey dovey, Willie had changed the channel then.He couldn't switch the channel on his parents though. He did like to see them happy. Just. Not. All. The.Time.

  And if his Da could be less daft, that would be good too.

 That wasn't what was troubling him, though, it was Scotland.At dinner, Da talked about how excited he was about his new job. Willie couldn't understand how he could be; there would be no horses. Maybe he should tell them he got a pain in his tummy when he thought about Scotland, they might understand. They might even say he could go back, not for a visit, but to live there like before. His eyebrows slotted together as he plotted what the next best move was.

After a considerable amount of time tossing and turning, Willie decided

he would have to persuade his Mama, once she agreed to go then his Da definitely would.His Da got silly around his Mama. Willie blushed at just how silly his Da had gotten, even today his Da had been holding his Mama's hand at the school gates. For god's sake Willie was four and he wouldn't let her hold his hand. Billy Friar had teased him as they walked down the path to his parents, making puking noises all the while. It twasn't manly at all. His pur Da dinna seem to notice though.

 He had stormed off ahead of his parents, listening to their giggling behind him, which only made him crosser. Yup, his Da was really daft around his Mama, so he would use that to his advantage. Like when yer training horses, his Grandda had told him once you get the mare to do something the stallion will follow to impress the girl horse. If he wanted to move back to Scotland, he needed to get his Mama to agree and Da would do whatever she wanted.

Willie's mind wandered off to how much his Da had changed, he had never seen him like this before. Connor Dalton at school said girls made boys go stupid and his Da was surely foolish around his Mama, he treated her like a bairn, washing with her, feeding her, always rubbing her shoulders or back as if she had wind.

 He was talking to her tummy a lot too, and Willie felt a pang of sympathy for his new little brother. He could probably see them kissing and carrying on from Mama's belly.

 Willie turned on his side, sighing deeply. He didn't mind all of the silliness. It made Mama really happy having Da here, but he didn't think that was because they were in Boston. She had been sad to leave Scotland; she cried all the way home on the plane even though she tried hiding it.

Willie let out a loud huff of breath, the weight of his plan weighing down on his small shoulders.

 It would be much better for the bairn to be near the horses and granny and Grandda all the time, that way they could start teaching him to ride as soon as he comes out of his Mama's tummy. Willie made a mental note to mention that to his parents. His Grandda always said it was important to start riding young. His Grandda also said that Scotland was in Willie's blood, which made perfect sense as he was happier there. He made another note to tell his parents about his blood.

 A few minutes later, Willie found himself kicking the blankets off and tiptoeing over to his door to see if he could hear any noise from his Mama's room. He heard her giggle, which was good because that meant they were still awake. He suddenly couldn't wait anymore to tell them about how he was feeling; Willie knew he would sleep better once he listed all the reasons why they needed to go back to Scotland.

The rule was if he wanted anything at night, he was meant to call from his room, in case he fell or got lost on his way to his Mama's room in the dark. But things were changing; Willie would need to be getting up at night to feed the bairn. Cora Mulvey told him that bairns ate and cried all night long and she has a baby sister, so she knows. Willie bravely turned the handle and lightly padded down the corridor running through his winning argument in his head.

Willie had once heard Aunty Jenny say that his Da got ridiculous around his Mama, Willie didn't know what ridiculous meant, only that whenever he, or  Bryce were being daft at School, Mr Petersberg always said that they were ridiculous. Which made sense to Willie because if his Da was anything around his Mama, it was silly. Really really silly and it made Willie go red to think how silly his Da was when it came to his Mama, he called her Sassynuck in a weird voice, Willie wondered did he know how stupid he looked when he smiled at her but doubted he did.

 His Mama had got good at farming when they were last in Scotland, right up until granny's brother and his friends had come to visit she was feeding and minding the horses every day with him. He knew she was happy there; he just needed to remind her and then list all the reasons why it was better for the bairn to be born in Scotland.

He pushed open his parent's bedroom door and was a bit relieved to see it was only his Mama in bed, that would give him time to win her over. Mama, he called out, launching himself onto her bed. He landed on something fairly solid and moveable and heard his Da yelp, "Why are ye hiding under the covers Da?" he asked as his Da appeared from under the duvet.

 Willie worried for a minute if his Da has asthma like Julie Cooperson because he was wheezing and breathing hard like she does just before she needs that thing that puffs air into her mouth.

"Are you ok, Willie?" his Mama asked her eyes all crinkled up like they do when she is worried.

She put her hand over his forehead to check if he was hot, but he waved it away, it was better not to put off the inevitable. 

"I want to talk to ye," he said, his voice loud and determined. "I canna sleep until I do." His Da opened his mouth to say something but was still having trouble with his asthma, so he shut it fairly quickly again.

His Mama hauled him up on her knee and in that nice soothing voice that always makes him feel better said "off course Willie, you can tell us anything."

His Da took a big drink of water from his bed stand and eventually managed to calm himself.

With both their eyes on him, bright and interested Willie felt strangely optimistic and went straight for the punchline.

"I wanna move back to Scotland." He said excitedly.

Both his parent's mouths fell open, and Willie raised his hand so they would let him finish.

"I miss it so bad – he didn't mean to whine, but his voice betrayed him –"I miss Donas and the other horses, I miss Grandda and Granny and Aunt Jenny, I miss the fields and the tractors ." He took a large gulp of air "I miss granny's chickens – even the rooster that wakes everyone up."

His Da looked at him sympathetically, and he could see his Mama wipe a tear away from her eye and then felt terrible because he didn't think he would make his mama cry.

"Its ok mama – I will be ok here if ye dinna want to go…"

She choked out something like "oh no, its not that." But then his Da was rubbing her back saying "Claire its not your fault."

"It is..I should have stayed."

Willie decided now was a good time to mention all the good things about the bairn living in Scotland."

He wrapped his arms around his Mama's neck and pulled her face down so he could see into her eyes; she usually stopped crying when he did this. "Mama its not just for me – his little voice sounded defensive, but Willie wouldn't realise that just yet. "I am only thinking of the bairn too – making eye contact with his Da, a pleading nod to back him up, surely his Da wanted to go home too – "If the bairn got into yer tummy in Scotland, just like I did."

Willie wasn't aware that he was tilting his head curiously at his father working out why his Da 

went a particular shade of pink when he mentioned the bairn going into his Mama's tummy.

He shook his head trying to focus on his litany of reasons to move to Scotland "It's only Scotland will be in the bairns blood like it is in mine – and it's better for him if he is around all the Scottish air" Willie added smiling broadly, remembering how important MMama thought the fresh air was.

He hadn't planned on having to persuade his Da though, so when his Da cleared his throat and said somewhat quietly that it wasn't as simple as just moving to Scotland. Willie's heart sank a little. It dropped even more when he said "Boston is our home now Willie, we can visit Scotland on holidays but me and yer mama have work here and – "just as his Da was about to list out the pointless reasons why they had to stay in Boston, his mama sniffed loudly and said "no, no you're right Willie, cupping his face in her hands she said "I miss Scotland too."

Willie couldn't stop the smile spread across his face in a way that made it ache in his cheeks.

"Really Mama?"

"Really – and while me and your Da need to talk about it, I think you're right – our home is in Scotland."

His Da was smiling at her, but his brows were creased with worry –"Claire  –" he whispered, and Willie thought his Da's voice sounded really croaky, like his sometimes did when he was trying not to cry at school.

Luckily for Willie, his ma pulled her Da to her too, holding his face.

Cause he would have been mortified for his Da if he cried like a bairn.

 "Jamie, honestly I have meant to talk to you both about it – "

 When his Da said "yer work Claire ?– "his ma had shaken her head and said, "oh I have an idea about that."

Willie was already ten steps ahead, planning if they moved quickly, he would be home just in time to help his Grandda save the hay.

His favourite time of the year, asides from Christmas of course.

He vaguely thought that bairn owed him big time for sorting this out before he was born.

[inspired-by-the-music]

Decide (Sehun)

requests are encouraged. please read my guidelines before submitting your requests.

Genre: film school AU; reader x Sehun; best friend x Chanyeol

Word Count:  4,220

Everyone’s obsession with Sehun wasn’t a mystery. Aside from being undeniably the most attractive person anyone had ever seen, he was rumored to be the son of an international film executive. And as you were all in film school, boys and girls alike understood that making a good impression on Sehun could potentially open doors in the future.

“Well, Y/N,” your best friend, Ranea responded to your detailed report of how your film class had fallen into embarrassing chaos because of Sehun. She spat out the safety pin she had been holding in her mouth before continuing, “You know what they say in this business— networking is everything.” “But you’re not supposed to network based on— on flirtations.” Your cheeks flushed as you elaborated, “You’re supposed to make an impact with your skills, not by batting your eyelashes and— ow!” As the pin jabbed into your ribs, you flinched. 

Ranea pouted. “Oh no, I got your blood on this fabric. The department head is going to kill me!” She was too worried about being scolded until she glanced up at your face. “Oh— duh!” She smacked herself in the forehead— with the pin, and screamed, “Ouch! Damn it— I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You gathered the fabric around your legs so you could comfortably lean forward to snatch the pin away before Ranea could wreak more havoc. “You’re a danger to yourself and others.”

Sobbing dramatically, she agreed, “I know!”

You delicately asked, sighing, “How long ‘til you go back to makeup?”

Her eyes came to life at the mention of her true passion. “Y/N, honey, I never left makeup. All this needlework? That’s just a part of my major or whatever.”

“Ah, I see.” You nodded before glancing at your watch. “Anyway, I agreed to be your live mannequin for an hour, and your time’s officially up.”

Ranea grumbled as she fished the paper out of her book bag. “You know the drill. Grade me out of 10, and don’t cheat this time!” After you giggled, she said, “Seriously! This is supposed to reflect my skills, not how much you love me.”

“Right, I know that,” you nodded as you penciled a 9 next to your signature. “If I were grading based on how much I love you, it’d be a perfect 10. Here ya go.” You returned the paper with a toothy smile.

“9?” Ranea’s boyfriend, a fellow cinematography student read over her shoulder once he stepped into the dressing room. He offered her a high five and cheered, “Way to go, babe!”

Flatly, Ranea said, “Don’t congratulate me, Chanyeol,” but she high fived him anyway. And she giggled when he laced their fingers upon impact. 

“Why not?” He smiled broadly at her laughter. “A 9 is damn near perfect!”

As you struggled to free yourself from the floor-length skirt Ranea pinned over your jeans, you explained, “She’s convinced I’m lying about her score to save her grade.”

“Oh, well, that’s bullshit, babe,” Chanyeol told Ranea shortly. “Y/N has more integrity than anyone in this school, both of us and all the teachers included.”

And when you nodded at Chanyeol gratefully and winked at Ranea as if to say ‘See, I told you so,’ she maintained, “Look, I know you’re lying.” She pointed a finger at you playfully. “There’s no way I deserve a 9 after I shanked you with that pin!”

Chanyeol unsuccessfully tried to repress his chuckle. “You shanked Y/N”

You started, “Not that it isn’t hilarious that Ranea stuck me, or that she scratched herself in the forehead—”

At the mention of Ranea’s minor injury, Chanyeol stiffened. Pushing her hair out of her face so he could assess the wound himself, he asked, “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t mean to. . .” her voice trailed off as Chanyeol pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

Overwhelmed with the sense that this was too intimate for you to watch, you averted your gaze. What was wrong with you? You weren’t jealous. You weren’t sickened by displays of affection. Ranea and Chanyeol were your favorite people, and they deserved to have each other. And you weren’t jaded by the concept of romance. So why couldn’t you watch a simple kiss on the forehead? 

How long had you been awkwardly staring at the paint-stained floor, tugging at your locket, before Raena asked, “Hey, Y/N? Where’s your mind at?”

You just shook your head, too busy resisting the urge to open the locket to speak, so Chanyeol answered for you. “If she’s like everyone else in our film foundations class, she’s even dreaming about that Sehun guy.”

Thankfully, the thick dressing room door was closed, so nobody outside could hear Chanyeol. Relieved only slightly, you claimed, “Well, I’m not obsessed with Sehun.”

“Right— that blush on your cheeks really proves how indifferent you are,” Chanyeol joked. 

Ranea glared at him as she unfastened the skirt. “Cut it out Chanyeol.”

Perhaps that should have comforted you, but it didn’t. Ranea never missed an opportunity to tease you, especially when Chanyeol was her partner in crime. When you turned to eye her suspiciously, you noticed that familiar playful grin tugging at her lips. “She only has a ‘tiny’ crush on Sehun.” 

You scoffed at her air quotes and crossed your arms over your chest with an especially childlike huff, but you didn’t deny anything. 

“Oh, I see.” Chanyeol tapped on his chin as if to indicate deep thought. “She’s just in denial because she doesn’t want to seem like those other girls Sehun doesn’t like.”

The worst part of their teasing was that they weren’t wrong. You were well aware of the way your heart raced whenever Sehun deliberately caught your eye before scribbling onto his clipboard— as if he wanted you to know that he was observing your every move. 

You knew Chanyeol witnessed how you tightly gripped the light stand until your knuckles turned unnaturally white that time Sehun passed by to swiftly remark, “Good job,” on his way off set. You knew it because Chanyeol winked, mouthed, ‘Don’t drop it,’ and developed an annoying habit of humming “Good job” after class every day. 

And you were too conscious of the recurring that even if Sehun wasn’t an esteemed guest in your class, even if you just met him somewhere in public under totally casual terms, you wouldn’t have the nerve to approach someone so perfect and, quite frankly, intimidating. 

“Hey, earth to Y/N.” Ranea waved her hand in your face. “What do you say? Want me to do your makeup so you can hide that blush from Sehun?” You weren’t really paying attention as you traced over your necklace again, mumbling, “Sure,” and collapsed into a chair. . . . 

As you and Chanyeol set the lights, you scowled at the girls too busy squealing about Sehun— rumored to be wearing all black today— to help prepare to shoot. “At what point does this kind of chaos become a safety concern?”

“What?” Chanyeol asked, so you gestured vaguely at the group of girls crowding the door. He clicked his tongue. “Yeah, as a film student who actually wants to learn, I agree with you— they’re stupid. But as your friend—” Chanyeol choked on his laughter, indicating that more teasing was on the way. “Y/N, you really shouldn’t worry about them. I’m sure Sehun only has eyes for you.”

You only rolled your eyes. “I see the scheduled boom operators are over there, hoping for an autograph or something.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re waiting for a kiss—”

Uninterested in Chanyeol’s mockery, you continued as if you hadn’t heard him, “So I guess today we’ll have to take over for them.”

“Ugh, really?” Chanyeol groaned. His eyes widened as he pleaded, “Come on, Y/N, today’s our turn to sit with the Director, Script Supervisor, and even your future husband. Haven’t we already done enough to prepare the set?”

You knew today was supposed to be your day to sit with them; and to some degree, you were trying to avoid having to be so close to Sehun for a long period. But mostly, you insisted upon operating the mics because, “Chayeol, I really don’t wanna hear Mr. Jung yell at us because those girls aren’t doing their jobs—”

“But they deserve to get yelled at!”

“Haven’t you ever heard that the show must go on?” It was the first show business phrase that came to mind, but you weren’t sure it made much sense in this situation. You revised, “Or what about all those times Mr. Jung barks that we’re a team and we have to look out for each other? For the sake of the shoot, we have a responsibility—”

“So one minute you hate those vultures for swarming around your man, and now you’re ditching the opportunity to sit and talk to him to save their asses?” Chanyeol gawked at you. 

“Yes!” You agreed passionately as the chatter by the door indicated that Sehun and Mr. Jung had arrived. Then, realizing what Chanyeol said, you said, “Well, kind of— we don’t have to sit with Sehun, but we need boom operators to shoot.”

Chanyeol likely would have resisted further, and cursed your attempts to convince him to do more of others’ work, were it not for Mr. Jung screaming, “Where are my boom operators?” and the subsequent shuffling of other students digging through their bags for their schedules. 

“Got it, Mr. Jung!” You answered and motioned for Chanyeol to follow. 

You reddened under Sehun’s gaze as Mr. Jung scolded the class. “I see it’s another day of Y/N and Chanyeol running the set. Did you do the lights and set up these chairs, too?”

Noticing that you were too flustered by the attention, Chanyeol answered as he lifted the boom, “We’re just doing what needs to be done, sir.”

“Whenever you all can be bothered to find your schedules, ” Mr. Jung shoved his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose as he glared, “everyone scheduled to light and set up the chairs, just go home, and write me a humble letter explaining why the hell I shouldn’t kick you out of this program.” 

Even when class was dismissed, you couldn’t forget your classmates' scowls. Because he’d known you long enough to sense when you were upset, Chanyeol advised, “Don’t even think about them. We’re the ones who did our jobs. Hell, we did more than our jobs— we’re the good guys. Even Mr. Jung said it, we’re the reason anything gets done around here.” And when you smiled, he returned the gesture.

“Hey, Ranea said you’re going out tonight—”

Stirred by your reminder, Chanyeol checked his watch. He grimaced, “Crap, I’m already running late.”

“Just go on now,” you urged as you set to work disassembling the lights, as was required after every class. When Chanyeol faltered, his gaze alternating from you to the dor, you said, hands on your hips and with a friendly smile, “Do I look like I can’t handle this myself! Go! Don’t make Raena wait!”

And with a rushed “Thanks, Y/N!” Chanyeol rushed to meet her. 

Only a few minutes passed in silence before Sehun spoke coolly, glancing at you briefly over his notes. “I could’ve sworn you were dating him.”

You looked around the studio, half-convinced that he had to be talking to somebody else, and blushed at the realization that everyone else was gone. You stopped working to meet his gaze directly as you asked, “Me and Chanyeol?”

Sehun nodded stiffly. “You do everything together. Your movements are always in sync. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Focusing your attention on the lights, you explained, “That’s because he taught me everything he knows about film.” Then, although it was none of Sehun’s business, you continued, “Even if he wasn’t dating Ranea, I could never be attracted to Chanyeol.”

As you wondered if you’d shared too much, Sehun inquired, at least sounding interested, “Who’s Ranea?”

“My best friend— you wouldn’t know her. She spends most of her time downstairs, doing makeup—”

You gasped, realizing that Sehun was standing in front of you, watching you. He never did anything like this during class; somehow, during those quick peeks away from his notes, he somehow saw everything he wanted to see. What was so fascinating about clean up, especially compared to a busy day on set, that required his full attention?

Too embarrassed to concentrate on your work, you asked, “Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m trying to decide if I want to help you.” On the rare occasion that he decided to speak during class, his sentences were brief, to the point, and void of emotion. So why did he amusedly raise his eyebrows as he spoke to you now?

You tore your eyes away from him. “Well, help if you want, but you don’t need to. I can do this myself.”

As you stepped around him, Sehun said, “I know that. I’ve been around long enough to realize that you do everything here.”

“Chanyeol helps,” you corrected immediately. “Somebody has to do the work, and everyone else is too distracted to do anything worthwhile.”

“Distracted?” Sehun repeated slowly. “By what?”

When you looked at him, you expected to see some arrogant smirk; so you were surprised to watch Sehun’s eyebrows knit together in apparent bewilderment. How had he not heard everyone whispering about him? Was he accustomed to the constant chaos? Did people always shamelessly fawn over him?

You didn’t know, and it seemed inappropriate to ask. And you didn’t feel comfortable explaining everything that made Sehun a distraction, so you simply asked, “Are you going to help, sir? Or are you going to keep standing there and distracting me?”

Sehun laughed airily when you called him ‘sir,’ but his innocent smile twisted into a devilish smirk when he realized, “So I’m the distraction?”

And when you devoted yourself to your task to avoid responding, in a futile effort to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, Sehun asked another question. “Do you think you could never be attracted to that Chanyeol guy because he’s worked with you?”

“What?” It was shocking that he was asking such a personal question since he was in a professional setting. 

Then again, according to Ranea’s unsolicited research, he was roughly your age. Maybe because nobody ever bothered to speak to him as if he were a normal young man, Sehun didn’t understand how to properly socialize. Or maybe he just enjoyed seeing you squirm in response to his questions. You couldn’t be sure of anything other than that talking to Sehun was almost panic-inducing— and you couldn’t decide if you enjoyed it. 

Sehun responded plainly, “I’m still deciding if I want to help you.”

It was increasingly difficult to understand Sehun, but you answered as simply as you could. “No. I’m not attracted to Chanyeol because he’s been my friend for too long.”

Pursing his lips, Sehun asked, “So I shouldn’t be your friend either?” . . . 

“Obviously,” Ranea tried to explain over lunch the next day, “Sehun wants you to be attracted to him. So if helping you is what makes Chanyeol unattractive to you, Sehun wouldn’t help you. If being your friend made Chanyeol unattractive, Sehun doesn’t want to be your friend.”

Chanyeol interrupted to ask, “But I am attractive, right?” and he pouted when neither you nor Ranea reacted. 

“Great—” You shoved your leftovers toward Chanyeol. “As if I need another reason for everyone in the class to hate me! Now the universal heartthrob is talking to me after class.”

“I don’t hate you,” Chanyeol interjected as he pulled your plate closer. “Have I gone completely invisible because of Sehun?”

“No, babe,” Ranea rubbed his arm comfortingly. “You’re visible and very cute.”

And before Chanyeol could take the opportunity to flirt with her, Ranea continued, “Anyway, Y/N, who cares what anyone else thinks? A very successful, very attractive—”

“But not more attractive than me,” Chanyeol was sure to note. 

“Chanyeol, please— Y/N, my point is, you like Sehun, Sehun likes you, and nobody else’s opinion matters.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you admitted, “I mean— do I know him well enough to like him? All he does is sit at the front of our class and write all over his clipboard. And when he talked to me for more than a second yesterday, he was weird. And he said he was going to ask Mr. Jung to change the schedule so I can sit with him today— and I don’t know how I feel about anything.”

Ranea draped her arm over your shoulders and pulled you into a hug. “Look— it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, obviously, the guy’s a little eccentric. But most artsy people are. And would I assume you’d fall in love with a man whose eyebrows always look that angry? Probably not— but I’m sure there are lots of things to like about him. And I know he has lots to like about you.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said through a mouthful of noodles. “Like how you keep your attraction to him quiet, unlike everyone else in the world.” Then, his eyes widened. “Wait— so today we get to sit with the director finally?”

“Chanyeol, honey, I doubt you’re invited,” Ranea said softly. “Clearly, Sehun thinks you’re some kind of competition—”

Chanyeol immediately argued, “But I don’t even like Y/N!” 

Ranea playfully kicked Chanyeol under the table as your jaw dropped at his rather loud declaration of disinterest in you. “Hey! That’s my best friend! Tell her she’s beautiful!”

And you really couldn’t care less what Chanyeol thought of you, but it kind of stung when he reluctantly said, “But—”

“Just tell her!”

“Y/N,” Chanyeol forced himself to say your name. “You’re beautiful.”

Someone cleared their throat behind you and Ranea. And when you both slowly turned to face Sehun, you realized why Chanyeol had been so hesitant to compliment you even at Ranea’s request. 

His ears singed pink, Sehun met your eyes and said, “I need to talk to you—” and then he cut his eyes at Chanyeol and added, “privately.”

Perhaps too eagerly, you clambered out of your seat. Once you followed him back to his table and obeyed his gesture for you to sit across from him, you asked, “How did you know I’d be here?”

“Coincidence— or luck— or fate, whichever you believe in,” Sehun answered quickly, adjusting his black dress shirt. Shrugging, he explained, “I just came here for lunch. And when I saw you, I realized it would be better to ask you here instead of in class, where your classmates may get the wrong idea.”

Your heart pounded in your ears. In what must have been a subconscious attempt to relieve your nerves, you tapped your fingers on the table. “Ask me what?”

“To work on a film for my father’s company,” Sehun answered swiftly. 

How was this somehow disappointing? It was your dream to work in the film industry, so why did your shoulders sag at Sehun’s explanation. Had you really fallen for Ranea’s and Chanyeol’s insistence that he liked you? 

No. That was stupid, and you knew it was. Sehun was an established studio executive, and you were still a student. More than that, you were even the youngest in your class— the most inexperienced filmmaker in your class. What interest could someone like you hold for someone like him?

You forced yourself to listen as Sehun explained, “That’s why I’ve been sitting in film classes at the university. It’s my job to recruit young talent, and I choose you.” He pulled stapled papers out of his briefcase and dropped them in front of you. “You’d work in lighting. The pay is above average for a student, but I suppose I could be convinced to negotiate with you.”

The Sehun before you was nothing like whoever spoke to you after class yesterday. Sure, he looked and sounded the same, but his eyebrows were arched with little effort and there was no upward tilt to his lips, which were an expressionless line. 

Reading through the contract, you absentmindedly recalled, “Mr. Jung said students usually only get jobs as assistants.”

“I do need an assistant, but I don’t think that position suits you well considering—” You thought Sehun might be smiling, but when you looked up at him, his expression hardened. “Well, nevermind. Aren’t you going to sign?”

When you took your time reading through the terms, Sehun said, “I didn’t intend to tell you this since I don’t want you to misunderstand my intentions, but I’m prepared to offer Chanyeol a job in lighting. And after looking over Ranea’s portfolio this morning, I decided to offer her a job with the makeup department.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re going to hire me and my best friends?” It sounded too good to be true; and when Sehun raised his eyebrows at your reaction, you said, “You should know that none of us have ever worked on a real set—”

“Get out of the habit of selling yourself short,” Sehun scolded. Then, smiling slightly, he said, “They say executives have a feeling about these things. You’re my first choice, so I’m asking you first.”

“So when you were talking to me yesterday,” you asked, resigning yourself to the reality that Sehun was merely interested in you for your film skills, “were you just trying to decide if you wanted to hire me?”

Sehun tensed at the question. “I was trying to decide what I thought about you— but not for the job. You were the obvious choice from day one; I only kept showing up to allow others the chance to prove me wrong. But I was worried that my attraction to you could be clouding my judgment.”

While your breath caught in your throat at Sehun’s statement, you heard Chanyeol spit his drink out at his and Ranea’s nearby table. 

Somehow you dared to ask, “So you decided that you’re not attracted to me?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Sehun warned, looking away from you. “I just decided that your professional attributes and—” He tapped on the table as he struggled with how to express himself. “I just realized that I could like you myself and still believe you’re the best person for the job. I needed to make sure that my choices for the potential employee and potential girlfriend were separate but equally valid.”

Stupidly, you repeated, “Girlfriend?”

“Of course, you’re not bound to either commitment unless you choose to be,” Sehun spoke more quickly as his blush deepened. “But before you decide anything, I should return this to you.” He pulled a small jewelry box out of his coat pocket and removed your locket from it. 

It wasn’t until that moment, when you grabbed around your neck, that you realized it was missing. 

“You dropped it yesterday,” Sehun explained. “The clasp broke. I took it to the jeweler and demanded an identical chain, but apparently, they aren’t made anymore. Still— here’s the original chain, in case you have any attachment to it.” He delicately placed the locket, now hanging on a new silver chain, and the faded broken chain in your hand. 

“Did you open it?” You asked him as you returned the locket to its rightful place around your neck. 

“Why would I do that?” Sehun asked, frowning slightly. “Wouldn’t that be a sort of invasion of privacy?”

Indeed it would have been. Even Chanyeol and Ranea didn’t know who was in your locket. But as you studied Sehun, and Sehun studied you, you realized that you wouldn’t have been upset if he had opened it. 

“Why did you go through so much trouble over this?” 

Sehun shrugged, "It was no trouble— but I suppose I did it because I could afford it.” 

That made you wonder just how much the new chain cost; before you could think it through, you offered, “I’ll pay you back—”

And Sehun shook his head sternly. “No, you won’t. Even if you try, I won’t accept your money.” Then, breathing deeply, he admitted, “If you really want me to be honest, I did it because you wear that necklace every day. So I knew it was important to you. And I figured that if I could fix it for you, you would appreciate it—”

“I do,” you interrupted, embarrassed that you hadn’t thought to thank him. “I really do appreciate it; thank you so much.”

Sehun smiled softly. “You didn’t let me finish. I thought if I did that for you, you would like me.” Flustered, he ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “Ah, that’s so stupid and childish. I should have asked Chanyeol to return it to you. Now it just seems like I’m trying to bribe you—”

“Look, Sehun,” you leaned forward onto the table so he would look at you instead of staring determinedly anywhere else. “You don’t have to bribe someone to take an amazing job— especially not a student like me. And you don’t have to bribe someone to be your girlfriend. Literally, everyone would dive at that opportunity.”

“Even you?” Sehun asked, raising his eyebrows hopefully. 

And with a sheepish nod, you answered, “Especially me.”

[reactingtosomething]

Kris Reacts to The Defenders (cont’d)

"For Whatever It’s Worth, I’m Glad You’re Here.”

Find my off-the-cuff mini-Reactions to the first five episodes of The Defenders here. A full-sized Reaction with some others may be forthcoming later in the week. SPOILERS AFTER THE JUMP for the rest of the season. Some non-spoilery, mostly Daredevil-related thoughts first.

I feel even more strongly than before that to get very much out of The Defenders, you really should watch both seasons of Daredevil. There are for sure lots of quality Jessica-Luke moments, don’t get me wrong, and in the unlikely event that your favorite Defender show is Iron Fist, Colleen Wing gets a surprising amount to do. But the most important non-Defender characters, including significant villains, are from Daredevil’s supporting cast.

I love Matt Murdock (although not as much as Caroline loves Matt Murdock), but he has got to stop referring to New York (or is it just Hell’s Kitchen, or Manhattan? I’ve never been sure) as “my city.” Especially when Daredevil never really gave us a sense of what either the Kitchen in particular or NYC in general means to him. In fact, I’d love a moratorium on all superheroes referring to “My City,” especially if we rarely see them interacting with the people and places of “their” cities in meaningful, specific civilian capacities. The bar here is set by Luke Cage, which in two episodes does more to flesh out Harlem than the entirety of either Daredevil or Jessica Jones (which are otherwise the best entries in the Defenders series) did for Hell’s Kitchen.

The Defenders shares a composer, John Paesano, with Daredevil. This is not surprising, as these shows also share showrunners, Douglas Petrie and Marco Ramirez (who were producer-writers under Drew Goddard and later Steven DeKnight in Daredevil s1). What is surprising is how much I like the music in these shows. It’s pretty melody-light, and vaguely “atmospheric,” and there’s a lot of repetitive percussion, which all taken together is generally a style that annoys me. But what usually annoys me about that style is that it’s intended to blend into the background, to not really be noticed at all. And Paesano’s music, while it isn’t always super prominent in the sound mix or anything, uses simple but still hummable leitmotifs that -- even if in your experience their overall impression is to blend in -- can be recognized as very Of This Show. In other words, unlike many movies that have melody-light or even effectively melody-less scores, often with aggressive percussion, things scored by Paesano actually have musical identities (including Mass Effect: Andromeda, whose musical identity is probably the second-best thing about it, after combat).

Take the first music we hear in season 2 of Daredevil, “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen”:

At first this seems like it’s just gonna be generic chasing-and-punching music, from literally any post-Bourne action franchise, but around 1:14, the ostinato that’s the backbone of the title theme kicks in. It’s much faster than in the titles, but instantly recognizable. Even if you don’t consciously recognize it in the moment, you probably feel a distinctly Daredevil vibe. It goes away again for a bit as the action of the scene ends, but returns as we see Matt (relatively) clearly for the first time in the season, a devil perched on a chapel.

This music from the climactic fight of the s2 finale, “They Have Nothing Now,” is another good example, riffing on both the ostinato and the main melody that starts about 18 seconds into the title theme.

Contrast this with the Guardians of the Galaxy movies, which do have a melodic instrumental theme, but which you almost certainly don’t associate with the movies or the characters. Partly this is because it’s just OK, but mostly it’s because what anyone remembers about those soundtracks are the needle drops of the Awesome Mixes. Don’t get me wrong, the Awesome Mixes are cool and all. But they also consist of music that most people would not specifically or exclusively associate with Guardians. Weirdly, the same composer worked on Atomic Blonde, which takes a similar approach to its music. This always seems to me like a missed opportunity. It’s like your movie or your show is somehow incomplete. What is Star Wars without John Williams? Or Batman: The Animated Series without Shirley Walker, 30 Rock without Jeff Richmond, Battlestar Galactica without Bear McCreary, Game of Thrones without Ramin Djawadi? What is Wonder Woman’s No Man’s Land without “No Man’s Land”? 

Anyway, all this to say that I’m a weirdo who REALLY LOVES A LOT that when a character briefly plays an instrument late in The Defenders, what they play is the show’s simple, vaguely Danny Elfman-esque title theme, rather than some overused classical piece.

Moving on... spoilers below!

There’s a lot about The Defenders that doesn’t work, and we’ll get to some of it. But unexpectedly, what’s stuck with me -- perhaps its single greatest achievement -- is that after the shitshow of his solo series, it renders Danny Rand pretty likable. Or at least, much easier to empathize with, much more often, than in Iron Fist.

In episode 6 when he’s tied up and Luke is babysitting, Luke (sarcastically) asks him to recount again the story of how he earned the Iron Fist by punching a dragon in the heart. Danny has a very bad sarcasm radar, and complies, and Luke has to remind him that he doesn’t give a shit or even really believe him (EVEN AFTER ALL THE WEIRD SHIT THAT’S HAPPENED). And Danny gives this sigh that back in Iron Fist I probably would’ve found petulant and childish. It does still feel, for lack of a better word, very young here. But I also found myself honestly feeling bad for the guy. He’s trying so hard, and in episode 4 he was the only one who (this is crucial) like the audience was rooting for the team to be a team, yet everyone keeps treating him like an annoying little sibling. Also, he’s telling the truth, he’s been telling the truth since he got back to New York (admittedly in the least persuasive ways possible at the start of Iron Fist), and since he got back to New York almost no one has believed him. And finally there comes the one guy in The Defenders who doesn’t have to believe Danny because he knows that Danny’s telling the truth: Stick. But then Stick is the one who wants to take Danny off the board at the top of episode 6, pulling the rug out from under him just when it seemed he had an all-in ally and even a potential mentor (something he realized he still needed very badly late in Iron Fist). This can’t be a fun place.

So that sigh actually carried some decent emotional weight for me. All the more because Luke immediately realized he’d genuinely hurt Danny’s feelings, and not just “get over yourself, you privileged white boy” feelings but “this is a central part of his identity that I’m mocking mercilessly” feelings.

Now, to be clear, Danny is an annoying little sibling. But Iron Fist never really recognized this, because it wanted Danny to be an imposing, menacing badass when what it needed him to be -- what The Defenders makes him -- is sweetly goofy and eager-to-please, a puppy who just happens to also be a trained killing machine. Danny’s the kind of guy that the cast of Leverage would call “adorable” with equal parts condescension and fondness, the kind of guy about whom you might say “bless his heart” and actually kind of mean it.

It should surprise no one who knows me well that despite all of the above, I Extremely Approve of Elektra pretty easily outclassing Danny in their fight at the end of episode 7, Iron Fist or no Iron Fist. 

But as Caroline mentions in her thoughts on her Patreon (and as she discussed in her Daredevil s2 reviews), it’s never super clear what it means for Elektra to be “the Black Sky.” For that matter it’s still unclear (though more deliberately) what the full potential extent of Danny’s Iron Fist powers is. And I think The Defenders could’ve gotten a lot more mileage out of parallels between Danny and Elektra as “living weapons.”

In general I’d hoped, perhaps foolishly, for a lot more from Elektra than we got. I didn’t have any problems with the acting, to be clear; I’m basically in love with Elodie Yung, entirely on the strength of her absurdly charismatic performance in Daredevil. But because Elektra doesn’t come back to life with her memories, Yung has to spend most of The Defenders keeping that charisma locked away, until a Plot Twist (Elektra killing Alexandra!) that I’m not convinced entirely works. I went along with it wholeheartedly anyway because it meant Yung got to unleash her full powers again. Or it would’ve been her full powers, if there’d been a lot more time to flesh out exactly what and who Elektra 3.0 is. 

We get a complete-ish answer by the end of the show, when it becomes clear that Elektra not only has her memories of Matt back but is still in love with him. But this is a character whose main challenge in her first life was that she was never permitted to figure out for herself what she wanted to do with that life, and “hijack the Hand’s plan to return to K’un Lun, and more importantly become immortal” -- though immortality certainly makes sense as a thing Elektra would want -- doesn’t come close to concretely addressing the ultimately relatable existential crisis (what is my place in the world?) that she faced in Daredevil. 

Sigourney Weaver is able to sell a desire for immortality as Alexandra Reid’s overriding concern because we meet her getting a (vaguely defined) terminal disease diagnosis, and because we spend a lot of time with Alexandra dwelling on her physical fragility and on her concerns about legacy. Yung’s Elektra doesn’t have that way in, and the writers don’t have the time or space in the last act of the season to do more than gesture broadly at Elektra’s desire to finally decide her own destiny. I think the reason this doesn’t land as well as it ought to is that it’s framed as a Villain Monologue, delivered to Danny, a character with whom she doesn’t have history. She doesn’t have this conversation with Stick (she just stabs him), and worse, she doesn’t really have it with Matt outside the chaos of a fight scene, though at least they get that last (?) kiss.

There’s a lot of lazy dialogue in The Defenders, especially in the finale, though thankfully these actors for whom we have a lot of banked affection just about pull it off. The last line of the cold open -- Luke’s “let’s go do something crazy” -- is... just kind of there? Which is a weird choice for the first big punctuation mark in the climactic chapter of this crossover event. He could’ve said that at basically any other point of the show; this should have been a line he could only say at this moment. 

Trish’s “Jess is a good friend speech” to Karen is not great. It’s not awful, either, but it’s not all that specific: Jess doesn’t do any of the things most of us in the real world ask our friends to do, “but when it comes to the real stuff, the stuff that’ll last forever...” What is that stuff? That Trish is interrupted by Malcolm and Foggy with some Bad News feels a little like the writers just didn’t know how to finish that sentence. How exactly are Matt and Jessica good friends? Yeah yeah yeah, they save your life, cool, standard superhero. But what’s the last time Matt in particular was 100 percent emotionally there for you? I do remember Jess and Trish’s friendship being my favorite part of Jessica Jones, but it’s been almost two years and some details would’ve been nice. 

Actively bad is the exchange that ends this scene: “That was the epicenter.” “Of what?” “Everything.” That’s just -- come on. That’s nowhere near as profound as it seems to want to be. That Midland was the epicenter of the earthquake is PLENTY to convey to the others that “ohhhhh that WASN’T a natural earthquake and shit’s about to go down.” In the abstract, “EVERYTHING” may sound more important than “the earthquake.” But the latter was a major inciting incident of The Defenders, and because none of these characters actually knows all of the other pieces the Defenders themselves are concerned with, the specificity of the earthquake is what should have been prized.

(In general, though, I did love that Karen and Trish got a scene together.) 

Luckily the best lines -- or at least, the best line readings -- of the episode come in the scene immediately afterward:

JESS: If you’d told me a week ago that I’d be here, with you two, about to blow up some building and fight ninjas to save New York... LUKE: (sigh) MATT: (chuckle) For whatever it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. JESS: What? MATT: No, circumstances could be better, I’m just saying, you know -- I’m glad we found each other. LUKE: I’m not hugging you. MATT: (resigned sigh) JESS: You guys ready or what? LUKE: No. MATT: ...No. JESS: Sounds about right.

The sheer endearing-ness and tonal perfection of this moment is hard to convey in writing. Charlie Cox’s delivery of Matt’s “No” in particular is just terrifically world-weary. The other thing I need to say about this scene is that I identify a weird amount with Matt’s series-long resistance to the team culminating in a belated moment of emotional openness, only for him to be met with the realization that the emotional availability of others doesn’t work on his schedule. 

It’s possible I’m reading way too much into this. After all, I also identify with Luke’s resistance to hugging it out.

(My favorite dialogue in the show is probably still the “Are those pork?”-through-“God, you’re weird” exchange of episode 4.)

Another dialogue thing that stood out to me in the finale was the repeated trope of The Moment I Saw You.

Elektra, to Matt: “We’re together. Something I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on you.”

Claire, to Foggy, about Matt: “But there was no talking him down. He had his mind made up the day I met him.”

This isn’t remotely unique to The Defenders, but it is a trope I tend to find annoying. I don’t think I believe in love at first sight, is probably part of my problem here, and I guess I get it if your mileage varies on that particular account. But it also feels lazy that it happens twice in a relatively narrow span of time, and about the same character, no less. Arguably more importantly, this is -- I know I lean on variations of this word a lot -- such an unspecific thing to say, in a show that had SO MUCH specificity at its disposal in the solo series. Why “since I first laid eyes on you” rather than a callback to something Matt said that night, or to their Sexy Sparring Session? Why “the day I met him” rather than a reference to Claire stitching Matt back together, or finding Matt in a literal dumpster?

(I liked that Claire and Foggy got an “our mutual friend” scene, but as others have said, it’s super weird that Claire and Matt never had a moment.)

There’s probably also something to say here about destiny and purpose, which ties into Elektra and Danny, and into the formation of the team itself, but again the show didn’t really make the time for that. I'm absolutely not suggesting that they needed 13 episodes -- I just don’t think they really managed their time well -- but with so many characters to serve, maybe 10 would’ve been interesting? To give Elektra a more robust arc post-Alexandra, if nothing else?

(About Alexandra -- I read some reviews to the effect that Sigourney Weaver held the first few episodes of The Defenders together through sheer force of will and Sigourney Weaver-ness, but I did not feel that way at all. I mean I thought she was very good, but the writing mostly wasn’t deep or clever enough for her to take the character of Alex anywhere near the level of Cottonmouth or Kilgrave or Wilson Fisk, and I think this “Sigourney Weaver is the best thing about The Defenders” take was mostly wishful projection on the part of people who know her corpus much better than I do. I’ve seen Alien but not Aliens; #sorrynotsorry.)

I did love that both in the premiere and the finale, Luke got to call back to Pop’s “Forward” mantra, without repeating the full “Forward always, always forward.” It was a nice way to show that Pop’s philosophy is thoroughly a part of him now, and that -- unlike Jessica, the person he’s with for the second callback -- he’s really deliberately thinking about his future.

I also liked, or wanted to like, that Jessica said maybe they could get coffee, but I wasn’t entirely sure what was intended by this. See, in Luke Cage, “coffee” turns out to be a euphemism Luke uses for sex, or at least a one-night stand.  But he’s with Claire now, which may be a reason he doesn’t deliver the established winking response from his own show: “I don’t drink coffee.” (Misty said it to him back then; he replied, “Neither do I.” I don’t think Luke not drinking coffee was a thing in Jessica Jones, and even if it was, it would totally be in character for Jess not to remember.) Apart from the lack of a callback response, my uncertainty comes from “we should get coffee” almost inevitably meaning, in my experience, “we are definitely not going to make the effort to get coffee,” even if we’re both totally sincere about wanting to catch up, which seems like a relatable social phenomenon Jess would snark about. 

To backtrack a bit -- that big fight scene in episode 7, against Gao and Bakuto and Murakami? It was... not shot well. Way too claustrophobic, and at least by the high standards of Daredevil, way too choppily edited. Most of the fights in The Defenders were underwhelming -- really missed Philip Silvera’s work -- but that one in particular stood out as a mess. (Caroline remarked that it’s a shame the fighting styles of the team aren’t better differentiated, at least in the show’s latter half; this is particularly true for Matt and Danny. It’s interesting that although Finn Jones is overall much better at the action here than he was in Iron Fist, the fights in The Defenders do lose a fair bit of the wushu character that previously distinguished his hand techniques, at least, from Matt’s.)

Anyway, I could probably say more -- I’m particularly sorry I haven’t done justice to the Jessica-Luke dynamic, or to the Daughters of the Dragon -- but I’ve lost most semblance of a train of thought here, so I’ll stop. I do recommend checking out all of Caroline's Random Thoughts, and, as always, the episode reviews over at The AV Club. (As of this writing the AVC is currently on episode 5.)

Though I did want a lot more from The Defenders in a lot of ways, as with the pretty strange and uneven Age of Ultron it was still a lot of fun to spend time with these characters, both alone and together. This was very much a show that did not manage to be more than the sum of its parts, but at least many of those parts were very pleasant. And frankly, I’m glad the run of episodes 6 through 8 was the last thing I watched this weekend, rather than the trainwreck (Tormund banter, zombie burning, and Dany’s winter wardrobe notwithstanding) that was this season’s penultimate episode of Game of Thrones.

I’m also cautiously optimistic about the possibility of a Luke Cage-Iron Fist team-up show, and to a lesser extent even -- I can’t believe I’m gonna say this -- the next solo season of Iron Fist (which will have a new showrunner -- Scott Buck is helming Inhumans, something about which I have strong feelings that we just can’t get into right now -- and add Simone Missick’s Misty Knight to its roster). If that’s not an endorsement, I don’t know what is.