#he is v nice definitely will Not stab i promise :)

[fenfyre]

Forbidden Fruit - Part V

Part I

The tallman's face was flushed pink with delight, the entire lower half slick with his own spit. He had not even been touched yet and already looked perfectly debauched with his hair in disarray and his eyes hazy. The look suited him and Chilchuck allowed himself a moment to take it in.

Until those hands wandered upwards to cup his ass and a probing finger slid between his cheeks.

"Whoa, whoa!", he cried out, squirming backwards out of that grip. The tallman allowed it, though not without a furrow to his brow. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Pale eyebrows drew even closer together in utter confusion.

"I'm ... preparing you?"

"Not with those hands, you're not! And definitely not without oil!"

"B-but I thought..."

For some reason Chilchuck's heart was beating all the way up in his throat as he reached down to grab one huge hand between both of his, folding thick fingers together until he could hold just a single one of them up to his face.

"Do I look like I can take this", he waved the finger around to demonstrate his point, his own hands tiny cupped around the broad tallman-fist, "with just spit?"

An unsure breath, golden eyes flicking between his frowning face and the hand he held up for both of them. Below him Laios looked every bit the kicked puppy, down to the lost noise he made in the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry, Chil."

Immediately Chilchuck deflated and lowered their hands at the uncomfortable stab in his chest.

Maybe … he could stand to be a bit more patient, even if Laios was overwhelming him every step of the way.

"It's fine, just ... stop calling me that." It was quiet, almost an afterthought, but he had to set this one thing right. For his sanity. Then he took a breath and squeezed the large hand between his fingers.

"I'll start. With oil. Then you can take over. We have to be thorough either way, so ... might as well take our time."

He was just about to climb down from the tallman's body to retrieve the oil when Laios spoke up again.

"Can I watch?"

Chilchuck froze, kneeling above the tallman's chest with his thighs unsteady. Images of him on his back, legs spread wide and hand working between them while Laios looked on flashing before him. His heartbeat stumbled.

"What?"

"Like this, maybe" The hand that was not currently cupped between Chilchuck's came up to rest on his bare hip, radiating a comfortable warmth, "Just ... the other way around? I bet it looks so nice. And ... I swear I'll be good. No, uh ... trying anything funny. Promise. I won't even touch you! Until you say I can..."

That ... did not sound too bad, actually. Sure, there were easier and more comfortable ways to get this done. But he quite liked the idea of having those eyes on him, the tallman watching him with that intense focus as he began preparing himself for that cock. As much as Chilchuck disliked being the centre of attention he might get used to it if it was only Laios' attention he was the centre of. Still, there was one more thing he could think of to make the prospect even more interesting.

"One condition."

"Anything!", the tallman blurted out and Chilchuck knew he meant it. He smirked and squeezed that hand again.

"Undress."

Then he climbed off the bed and retrieved the jar of oil from the bedside table to the sounds of rustling clothes. When he turned back the tallman was kicking off his breeches and wrestling his tunic with an impressive dedication yet little success. Chilchuck watched the flailing with interest until both garments were flung away and all that remained were the smallclothes. Before those could be ripped off unceremoniously as well Chilchuck intervened.

"Slowly now."

The tallman's head whipped around to look at him, eyes wide and cheeks still flushed. He licked his glistening lips before reaching down to grab the hem with both hands, still focused on Chilchuck. The fabric was already tented obscenely but it got even more mouthwatering as the length rose up with the tension of the fabric, then sprung free to bounce against the tallman's lower abdomen with a wet smack.

Chilchuck had seen that cock before but never hard. It did not disappoint. Already impressive when flaccid it was now as thick as his forearm and easily as long. There might just be a real chance that thing would kill him. But Chilchuck was nothing if not determined.

They had all night to make it fit. Just this once.

He watched on as the tallman removed the smallclothes, pushing them down to his thighs, then wiggling out of them until he could kick them off the bed. He got comfortable again, adjusting the pillow as he laid back. The wide expanse of pale skin and lean muscle now on display was inviting. Chilchuck wanted to run his hands across every inch and sink his teeth into only the softest parts.

Maybe there was a version of their story where he did. Where they laid together, taking their time to caress and explore until dawn. But here and now those kinds of sweet, soft urges were dangerous and Chilchuck was well trained in pushing them aside.

~

Part VI

[thelaundrypool-a]

(dabs) the work day has begun but p much if u want sheikah sooga ur welcome to hmu to plot or specify whenever I do starter calls / post memes.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Happy Fucking New Year!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Words: 5071

Summary: You and Bucky spend New Year’s Eve together in Paris!

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (F receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, anal play, cum eating), explicit descriptions of violence, minor character death, SMUT, 18+ only!!!

A/N: Well, my grandma ass passed out while literally writing this fic last night at like 10PM so sorry it’s late! But it’s still New Year’s Day so whatever. It’s kinda fun, I definitely enjoy having Bucky and Sam be complete idiots while our poor reader is the only one with common sense, so you may be seeing a lot of those two fucking things up in this series. Join my taglist here if you’re inclined and a Happy New Year to all you lovely hoes!

“Damn, Barnes. Look at your ass in that tux.”

He choked on his champagne when you snuck up behind him, grabbing one ass cheek and giving it a squeeze before he had a chance to turn around.

He didn’t know how you always managed to catch him off guard.  He was used to being able to pick up on any threat immediately, but you were always able to slip under his defenses.

The expression that came over his face when he finally saw you was priceless. You loved surprising him with shockingly revealing outfits, offending those sweet old man sensibilities he pretended to have in public. But you knew exactly what he was thinking as his eyes drank you in.

The gown you had picked was a deep blue velvet that hugged your curves. While the skirt was tight against your legs, it still could’ve possibly been considered modest. The top though…. The v of the neck wasn’t as deep as your usual style, but the back dipped so low he wondered how you could possibly be wearing panties. All he could think of was snapping those thin straps with his vibranium hand and watching the fabric slide over your soft skin before it pooled around your ankles.

He couldn’t believe the two of you were spending New Year’s Eve in Paris. You’d barely had a chance to speak to each other after your tryst in Stockholm, and now you were together in the city of lights on one of the most romantic nights of the year.

“Hey, Barnes, you still in there?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He grinned at you as he watched you take a sip of champagne. “Just wondering where you’re hiding your knives in that dress?”

“Mmm, if this night goes according to plan, maybe I’ll let you look for them later.” You teased him, giving him a wink as you walked your fingers across his chest.

“Alright, that’s enough. You two promised to cool it with the kinky shit over comms.”

The two of you turned to shrug apologetically at Sam, who was glaring murderously at you from across the foyer.

“Sorry Sammy.” You whispered, tittering to yourself.

“Yeah, sorry Sammy.” Bucky gave him a stupid grin as the three of you started slowly moving to one the hallways leading to the main building.

“You don’t get to call me that, Barnes. You keep getting me into these fucking stupid situations, and your poor girlfriend always has to get us out. We were almost home, man, and you just had to follow that shady fucker at the airport.”

“No, he was following me. And anyways, I was right about him. I told you HYDRA had various goon squads lurking around.”

“You guessed.”

“I guessed right.”

“So, you admit it, you guessed!”

“Hey, boys!” You furrowed your brow as you turned to glare at the two of them, a little annoyed at the bickering. “Isn’t there supposed to be a door here?”

They finally shut up and followed your line of sight to where all the intelligence indicated the access door to the arsenal should be located.

Bucky let out a deep sigh and clenched his jaw, his eyes moving up the wall until they found the tiny hatch in the corner, fifteen feet off the floor. He turned his head to Sam and growled.

“You were in charge of reconnaissance. Do you not know the difference between a door and a hatch? Do your little robot minions not know how to take measurements?”

“Hey, don’t blame the robots man! This was based on human intelligence, which I’m pretty sure is your responsibility.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

You ground your teeth together as you listened to the two of them, not sure how you were able to put up with this shit. You took in your surroundings, trying to figure out a way through this situation.

“Well one of us has to get up there.” You murmured to yourself.

“I nominate robot boy.”

“Ok, ya know what, they’re not robots. I might’ve been able to let it go but, heh, I can’t. They’re drones. And if you think me buzzing one of those through the party out there is inconspicuous…”

“Oh, not one of your robots, you. What if I throw you at the hatch?”

One glance at him let you know he was seriously considering throwing your friend at the hatch. You rolled your eyes as you slipped out of your pumps.

“Ok, now you’re trying to piss me off, I just told you they were drones. And you are not throwing me at that tiny door. It’s not even open.”

“Well, if I throw you hard enough, that won’t matter.”

“It’s a solid steel door, dumbass. And I’m pretty sure it opens outward. I vote we come back later with some tools.”

“We’re on a timetable. I say we settle this with some old-fashioned rock, paper, scissors.”

“Um, no, you cheat.”

“How can you cheat at rock, paper, scissors?”

You did your best to tune them out as you stretched, sighing as you gathered your dress up over your thighs and grumbling to yourself about ruining another outfit.

“I don’t know, but you do. Ok, if you use your normal hand, maybe that’ll work.”

“Whatever, I’ll still win.”

You walked back down the hall, then turned and sprinted past the two of them, vaulting off one leg when you reached the corner and using your momentum to spring yourself off the wall until you were able to brace yourself in the tiny alcove next to the hatch.

“Could one of you toss me the laser driver from my clutch?” You called down to them, now that they had finally stopped their incessant arguing.

Sam grinned up at you as he picked your clutch off the ground, tossing the driver to you when he found it.

“Man, every time.” He shook his head at Bucky as you started working on dismantling the door. “I don’t know how your dumbass has survived this long without us, Barnes. You can’t just punch your way through everything.”

“I’m sorry, ‘us’? Seems like she’s doing all the work while you’re just bossy.”

“Can you two just give it a rest? I’m in.” You pulled the hatch open and slid through it, hanging over the edge by your fingertips for just a second before softly dropping on the balls of your feet on the other side. “Fuck, that’s a lot of bombs.”

“What kinds of bombs?” Sam asked over the comms, all business now.

“Well, I’m not an expert, but this sure looks like tesseract related tech to me.”

“Shit.” Bucky hissed. “Any way to disarm?”

“Well, probably, sweetie, but there’s at least 100 of these fuckers, and I don’t really feel like spending all of New Year’s Eve playing ‘which wire?’”

“Alright, just give us a second.”

You heard a yelp from outside and all of a sudden Sam’s torso came flying through the open hatch, his hips catching on the edge.

“Did he just throw you?” You asked, not bothering to hide the grin that spread over you face as Sam looked for something to swing down with. You dragged over an empty shelf and he pulled himself through, climbing down gingerly to come stand beside you.

“Your boyfriend is a fucking menace.” He grumbled, brushing some debris off his shoulders. He whistled through his teeth when he got a good look at the stockpile you had uncovered. “Shit.”

“Fuck me.” Bucky murmured, suddenly behind the two of you, making Sam jump.

“Goddamn it Barnes, why you gotta always be so stealthy?”

“Maybe you just need to pay better attention, what if I’d been a goon?”

“You are a goon.”

“Oh my god, I cannot do another round of this. Sam, can you call this in please? Maybe Sharon will have some idea of what to do about the massive pile of shit we just stepped in.”

“Fine, Y/N. I’ll call the boss.”

You went to examine the bombs more closely. They all seemed to have remote triggers, but you didn’t want to take the chance that they were volatile, so you resisted the urge to pick one up.

“Yeah, this is definitely tesseract tech.” Bucky muttered, and your heart jumped into your throat when you turned to see him tossing one of the bombs into the air and catching it again in his vibranium hand.

“Motherfucker put that down you idiot! What if there had been a pressure sensor?”

Bucky stared at you for a second, then back at the bomb in his hand. “Right, whoops.” He placed it back on the pile gingerly and gave you a sheepish grin.

“I swear to god, the two of you are going to end up getting me killed.”

“Ok, boss said they have a remote drone about one minute out that should have the ability to disarm these. She just wanted us to open the skylight for it.”

“The what?” You hissed at him.

“Uh….”

“There’s a fucking skylight?” You looked up and scoffed, seeing a very large window right there in the ceiling.

“Nice, Wilson.” Bucky just shook his head at him.

“Fuck you, Barnes! You didn’t know about it either.”

“No more! One of you morons get up there and open it!” You were seething. “You’re lucky I like the two of you or I swear to god, I would stab the both of you right now.”

“Alright, rock, paper, scissors?”

“No!! Bucky, just fucking do it.” You screwed your eyes shut and pressed your fingers into the peaks of your eyebrows.

“You got it, beautiful. You’re so cute when you’re mad… shit.”

He had to scramble up one of the shelves as you tried to charge at him, but Sam was able to hold you back at the last second.

“Ok, let’s all just take some deep breaths. It’s all good. The drones on the way. We didn’t have to fight anyone. And there’s still 25 minutes until midnight, so we’ll all get to toast the new year.”

Right as he uttered that last word, a large door on the opposite end of the room opened, and three goons carrying large guns entered.

“Goddamn it, Wilson, you jinxed us. And look, another fucking door!”

“Yeah, they do seem to be popping up everywhere.” He muttered under his breath. “Hey, fellas, we were just…. god, y’know what, I’m too tired to come up with something. Should we just fight?”

You sneered at him before hefting one of the bombs and chucking at the head of one of the guards, hitting him right between the eyes and knocking him out.

“OOHH! What if that had gone off?” Sam yelled at you as you charged the two standing goons who were still standing, diving at the last second to roll one of them over your shoulder.

“Oh, so only you and grandpa are allowed to make stupid decisions, then?” You said, pulling out a knife from under your skirt and trying to stab the guard who was still standing. You were just a little too slow and he dodged you, making you hiss. “Do you mind giving me a hand?”

“Shit, right.” He found a metal pipe leaning against the corner and walked over to where the first guard was starting to come to his senses, bringing it around in an arc to crash against his chin, knocking him out again.

“Drone’s here! Aww man, you guys started a fight without me?” Bucky had climbed back down to find the two of you grappling with your respective opponents.

He walked over and punched the asshole that had Sam in a chokehold in the face with his vibranium fist, feeling a satisfying crunch as he went down. Bucky started to stride over to give you a hand as Sam tried to catch his breath when you suddenly drove your knife up under your opponent’s ribs, giving it a twist before you withdrew it.

“Y’know,” He murmured as he watched you bend over to clean off the blade on the dead man’s jacket. “I’m a little mad at you now. I was looking forward to looking for that later tonight.” He grinned at you, nodding at the knife in your hand as you drew up your skirt to return it to the sheath on your thigh.

“Don’t worry sweetie, there’s plenty hiding under here for you to discover.” You teased him as he pulled you to him, pressing a deep kiss to your lips and moaning against your mouth. He always got so worked up after watching you fight.

“Ugh, I’m still here, you freaks!”

“Shit, sorry Sam!” You flashed an apologetic grin at your friend as he glared at you. Bucky was pulling at the front of his pants and screwing his eyes closed as he tried to fight his obvious erection.

“There’s something wrong with you two.” He muttered under his breath as he started climbing the shelves to leave through the skylight.

The drone had done its job. All the indicator lights on the bombs were off, showing there were no longer armed. You gave a small sigh of satisfaction before looking up at the skylight.

“Gimme a boost, Buck.”

“Yep.” He hooked his hands under one of your heels and grinned to himself as he brought his arms up a little faster than you had intended, flinging you up to the roof in one swift motion and making you yelp.

“You’re such a dick!” You shouted down to him as he started to climb out after you, making him laugh. “What time is it Sam?”

“Hey, we’ve still got 10 minutes to midnight!” He said, giving you a grin.

“Ooh, think we can make it back?”

“Yeah, it’s just a couple rooftops over! Barnes, move your ass!”

Bucky was just climbing onto the roof as you and Sam started jogging towards the adjacent building and cursed under his breath as he clambered to follow you.

Sam let out a whoop as he leaped between the buildings, one of his drones catching him halfway and carrying him to the other side.

“Oh my god was that waiting out here the whole time?” You scolded him as he swooped back to lift you across the gap, depositing you softly on the next roof.

“Yeah, why are you surprised?”

You just gave him a laugh as Bucky flung himself over the space between the structures, rolling in his landing and scowling at the two of you when he regained his feet.

“No thanks, I don’t need any help.” He growled at Sam, voice dripping with sarcasm as he brushed some pebbles off the shoulder of his tux jacket.

“You’re fine.” Sam waved a dismissive hand as the three of you walked to the next edge, which led to your hotel.

You dropped down first to the ledge that was 10 feet below, landing on the balls of your feet and twisting just a bit to gain your balance before you started gliding towards the window to your room.

“You good, Y/N?” Sam called as they watched you crouch as much as you could when you reached the end of the ledge.

“She’s got it.” Bucky muttered as you uncurled your body like a whip, shooting across the gap between the two buildings, latching onto the buttress above your window as you stretched down, your toes reaching for the lower sill. You found your purchase and released one hand to draw the window open, then slipped inside easily. “See?” He gave Sam a grin as he moved to follow you.

It only took the two of them a minute to join you, and you met them with champagne and a pleased smile on your face.

“Hello boys, just in time for the countdown!”

You passed out the drinks and took one for yourself before the three of you headed out to the small balcony that was around the corner from the window you had entered through.

“And 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Happy New Year!” The three of you shouted.

You heard the city erupt in cheers and fireworks started exploding over the Eiffel tower. Bucky set his champagne flute down and drew you into his arms, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours. You sighed as you opened up to him, welcoming the crisp taste of champagne on his tongue as he curled it against yours.

“Ooookay, that is my cue to leave.” Sam said, downing the rest of his drink and avoiding making eye contact with either of you as he made his exit.

“Mmm, Happy New Year, Sammy!” You called after him. Bucky just waved a hand at him as his mouth moved down to your neck, his lips trailing over your throat as his other hand pressed against the small of your back.

“Just, remember to take out your comms, I’m begging you.” Sam said before shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck, right.” You plucked yours out of your ear and set it next to your glass as Bucky drew you back into the room, sucking on the curve of your shoulder softly. He released you for just a second to remove his own comm and closed the door to the balcony before turning back to you.

“Oh, that fucking dress.” He growled as he took you in, his eyes dark with desire. “You know, I’ve been wanting to peel you out of that thing all night, you damn cock tease.”

You stepped into him and pressed your hand against the bulge in his pants as you nipped at his bottom lip. “Mmm, your always so good to me when I tease you though, baby. I can’t help it.” You moved your hands up to start undoing his tie. “Besides, I don’t know how you can blame me for teasing you when you’re walking around in this tux. I’ve been wet all night.” You whipped the tie off and started working on the buttons of his shirt as you took his earlobe between your lips and sucked on it.

His hands moved to your ass and squeezed as he ground his hips against you, making you gasp. “Don’t tell me that unless you want me to do something about it. Fuck, are you even wearing anything under here?”

You slid his jacket off his shoulders and followed it with his shirt, running your fingers over his bare torso before starting to undo his belt. “Why don’t you get it off me and find out?” You purred, gazing up at him through your lashes as you drew the belt through the loops and moved to unbutton his fly.

He leered at you and brought his hands up to your shoulders, running the thin straps of your gown through his fingers before snapping them easily. He sighed as he watched the material slither over your curves and pool at your feet. “I fucking knew it.”

You were completely bare under his gaze, aside from the two knife belts you had around your thighs, each of which contained 2 blades.

“Damn it, Barnes.” You scolded him.

“What?”

“Could we have one night where you don’t end up ruining at least one expensive item of clothing?” You sighed, bending over to pick up the dress and shooting him a soft look of reproval.

“Shit, baby. I’m sorry. I get too excited.” He did feel a little bad, but every time you wore something like that, all he could think of was ripping it off you.

“Well, now you’ll just have to make it up to me.” You teased, tossing the dress aside and drawing him closer.

“Yes, ma’am.” He murmured as his fingers moved to start undoing the belts around your thighs. He brushed his lips against the small hollow beneath your ear as he worked, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin there as his fingers brushed over your legs, making your pussy clench around nothing. “You want me to show you how sorry I am with my tongue?” He set aside the two belts and moved a hand to cup your sex, groaning at how warm and wet he found you.

“God, just fucking do it.” You hissed as he teased a finger between your folds, barely brushing against your heat before withdrawing again.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” He picked you up and carried you a few feet to lay you on the dining room table, kicking the chairs out of the way with a clatter.

He gave you a searing kiss, taking your breath with him when he withdrew to kneel between your thighs. His stubble tickled at your skin as he moved his lips and tongue up your inner thigh at an agonizing pace, moving to the other thigh when he had almost reached your cunt and making you whine.

“I’m so sorry I ruined your dress, pretty girl.” He finally dragged his tongue over your slit and you let out a low moan, your fingers burying themselves in his hair as he repeated the motion. “Wish I could promise it won’t happen again, but this pussy does things to me.”

He pressed the flat of his tongue against you and drew it over your entrance heavily, slurping up all the evidence of your arousal with an obscene sound before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The whimper you let out made his cock twitch as your thighs clenched around his shoulders, drawing him into you even further.

“God, Bucky, right there.” You murmured as he increased the pressure on your bundle of nerves and inserted two fingers into your cunt, moaning at the feeling of your satiny walls clenching around him. He curled them just a bit and you wailed, arching your back into him as you started whispering “please” over and over like a prayer.

He grinned against you as he shook his head slightly, pressing himself even further into your heat and lapping up the juices that leaked from you as he fucked you with his fingers.

He added a third finger and crooked his wrist just slightly and that was it. Every muscle in your body went rigid as you came against his face, soaking him in your release as you clamped down on his fingers and sobbed with pleasure. You released him slightly, only to spasm again from the aftershocks as your muscles quivered around him. He finally managed to draw himself away and stood between your legs, grinning down as he watched you come down from your orgasm, shivering occasionally as a random jolt of pleasure shot through you.

“You think you can forgive me?” He asked wickedly as he finished undoing his slacks and slid them over his hips, followed by his boxer briefs. He drew his hand over his length as he waited for you to answer, nudging the tip of his cock against your folds and making you yelp.

“Fuck, yes. God Bucky.” You sat up and wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing his face to yours violently. You ground your hips against him, groaning as you felt his shaft slide through your slick easily. He started to lift you to bring you to the bedroom and you shook your head a bit before releasing him. “No, I need it now.”

He grinned at you as he teased his head against your clit, making you whine. “You want me to fuck you right here on the table?”

“God, yes please. Gimme that cock. I need you inside me.” It was driving you crazy. You brought a hand between the two of you and wrapped it around him, making him hiss as you lined him up. “I want you to split me open then fuck me until I can’t breathe.”

He let out a low growl from deep in his chest. He loved when you talked like this. He pushed into slowly with a groan until he was sheathed to the hilt, relishing in the feel of you clenching around him. “Fuck baby, you feel so good. So tight and warm. What else you want me to do to you?” He started moving his hips slowly, grinding them against you each time he was bottomed out.

“Shit,” You were panting with need as he moved inside you, his cock dragging against your g-spot over and over and making it hard to think. “I want your mouth on my tits. God, just like that.” He was following your instructions beautifully, dragging his tongue over the inner slope of your breast as his hips kept up their slow pace. “Fuck, baby, suck on my nipples now.”

He did as you asked, swirling his tongue over the sensitive buds as his lips closed around them, sucking softly and making you whine. He’d always been good at following orders.

“Mmm, move faster.” You commanded, wrapping your fingers in his hair as he continued lavishing attention on your breasts.

He obliged easily, picking up the pace until he was slamming into you, knocking the breath out of you. You met each of his thrusts with your own, mewling as you felt a coil starting to knot in your abdomen.

“God, I’m gonna cum.” You whined.

One more drive of his hips and the coil broke, making you scream. Your fingernails dug into his scalp as you went stiff for just a beat before everything released. He smiled into your neck as you vibrated against him, panting heavily as you came down.

He kept fucking into you like a man possessed. He brought his mouth back up to yours and kissed you softly as he felt you relax a bit. “Did I do good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, baby, you did great.” You laughed into his mouth as he kept moving.

“You’re in charge, pretty girl. What do you want now?”

“God, work my clit. Fuck, just like that.” You were having trouble focusing as he did what you asked. “I need your mouth on my neck. Hngh, Bucky! That’s so good.”

“What else, beautiful?” he grinned against your throat, loving how easily you were coming apart around him. He picked up the pace with his hips a little more and felt you flutter around him.

“Shit, stick your thumb up my ass.”

He was not prepared for that and his hips faltered for a bit. He whipped his head up to stare at you as he regained his composure.

“What?”

“Ahh, fuck.” You were just a little embarrassed. You usually liked to ramp up to this type of thing, and especially with Bucky, you had wanted go really slow with this particular kink. You didn’t know how much of a thing anal play had been in the 40s. “Um, you can forget I said that.”

To your surprise, he broke out into an absolutely sinful grin and gave you a savage kiss as he laid you back on the table, stilling his hips but keeping himself sheathed in you as he drew your knees up to your shoulders.

“I’ve been dreaming about this ass, baby.” He said as he started moving his hips again, dragging his thumb through the slick that was leaking out around his cock and moving it down until it was pressing against your pretty hole, making you gasp.

“Bucky, don’t tease me.”

“Thinking about this tight little hole wrapped around my cock, I was worried you’d never let me in.” You moaned as he pressed himself through the tight ring of muscle and your eyes rolled up into your skull as you arched yourself into him. “But here you are, giving me a fucking invitation.”

He gave a groan when both your holes clenched around him, and he felt his cock moving in your cunt with his thumb through the thin lining between your passages. He drew himself out halfway and slammed back into violently, the tip of him barely kissing your cervix and making you whine.

His fingers on your clit pressed down hard and you flew apart around him, your orgasm ripping through you with abandon. The scream you let out was otherworldly as you creamed all over his cock.

The sight of you writhing beneath him sent him over his own edge and he shouted your name as his cum spurted inside of you, coating your walls and his dick as he collapsed on top of you.

You were still trembling as aftershocks rippled through your body. He kissed your neck and pulled out of you gently. You barely noticed, you were so fucked out.

“Shit sweetheart.” He muttered as he drew himself up. “This body treats me so fucking good. Damn, look at that.” He drew your knees apart and stared appreciatively at you pussy, still clenching as you came down. His cum was slowly leaking out of you and dribbling over your puckered hole. “Let’s clean you up.”

You had expected him to go get a towel, but he knelt down and dragged his tongue over first your asshole, then your slit, making you sob as he lapped up the mixture of your releases. When he drew his tongue over your clit, you came again immediately, it was so overstimulated.

“Fuck, you ok, Y/N?” He hadn’t expected you to be that sensitive and was worried he might have overdone it. He brought himself back up to look you in the eyes, cupping one cheek in the palm of his hand as he studied your face with concern.

“God, Bucky, I’m fucking great.” You gave him a sloppy grin as you stared up at him, turning your head to press a kiss into the palm of his hand. “I don’t think I can walk though.” Your legs were jelly.

He just laughed and scooped you into his arms, carrying you into the bedroom and laying on the bed. He covered you with the sheets and pressed a soft kiss to your temple before heading into the bathroom to clean himself up. He was only gone for a minute before he was sliding behind you and wrapping you in his arms.

“Happy New Year, beautiful.” He whispered into your hair as you drifted off to sleep, drowsy now that you were surrounded with his warmth.

“Happy fucking New Year, Bucky.” You murmured before you dozed off, blissfully satisfied.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @starlightcrystalline​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @buckysnumberonegirl​

[gratefulbet]

VOICELINES.

Hello: The name’s Felix Walken, handyman. Hahaha, I’m joking! Since we’ll be working together, you can just call me Claire.

Chat - Work: Just leave it to me; I never leave a job unfinished.

Chat - Rest: There’s no harm in restin’ for a bit if you’ve got me around! ... Of course, I am gonna get a little bored if we just stand around like this.

Chat - Destruction: Really, there’s no better way to make sure the job’s well done than leaving no trace of the problem.

When It Rains: During showers like this, it’s pretty easy to get rid of any evidence of what you’ve been doing. Huh? What do I mean by that? ... Well, I guess it’s best you don’t know.

When It Snows: That’s really somethin’, isn’t it! When I was a kid, it snowed all the time... ‘Course, that was before we left Snezhnaya.

When The Sun Is Out: What a perfect day. I like to think of that as a sign that something’s gonna go terribly wrong. For someone else, of course.

When Thunder Strikes: Weather like this is just the best. With any luck, it’ll carry on all day!

Good Morning: I usually go to sleep around this time, but I decided to make an exception for our travels today. 

Good Afternoon: Tired already? Haha, I’m just getting warmed up. With any luck, something exciting will happen later.

Good Evening: I usually get up around this time, so I’m used to the hustle and bustle dying down. It’s more convenient to do your work at night when no one’s around to bother you, right?

Good Night: Hahaha, goin’ to bed already? You should stay up with me on one ‘a my jobs someday!

About Claire - Vino: Why do people call me Vino? To tell you the truth, I’ve really got no idea. I didn’t come up with it myself, you know.

About Us - Partners In Crime: Looks like you’re stuck with me for now! Not that I mind, of course. We make a pretty good team.

About Us - Loyalty: Even if someone has it out for you, I promise I won’t go after you. Since we’re friends, and everything. But, if my family wants you gone... That’d be a way different story, so try not to cross them, alright?

About Us - Strength: You’re not bad, but you could never, ever be stronger than me. It’s just impossible, but it’s nice that you’re trying!

About the Vision: I’m surprised you even knew I had a vision! To tell you the truth, I don’t like usin’ it to fight. I’d rather use the strength I worked for, not some powers that were given to me for doin’ something anyone could do. Of course, I can’t exactly get rid of it, so I keep it on me.

Something to Share: The railroad in Fontaine is probably one of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen. I’m a conductor, so you should visit me on the job sometime! ...You’re concerned about the Rail Tracer? Hahaha, you don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to that.

Interesting Things: The myth about the Rail Tracer goes like this: If you speak about it on a train at night, it will appear to devour all the passengers one by one, leaving an empty train to arrive at the station after the sun rises. The only way to stop it is to believe in it wholeheartedly, but most people don’t know about that part of the story. That’s probably why they’re so scared even though they fully believe in it.

About Luck: If you happen to meet Luck, tell him I said hi! Since both of us travel a lot, I don’t see him as often as I’d like to. I like to think I get on the best with him out of my brothers. Hahaha, what’s that look for? Rest assured, he’s nothing at all like me.

About Berga: Berga might look strong, but he’s never won in a fight against me. You should probably still avoid his wrath, though. After all, it’s impossible to win in a fight against me, so saying something like that doesn’t really mean anything.

About Keith: You don’t wanna get on his bad side more than anyone’s. He’s definitely the scariest of the Gandors. Even I don’t even think about going against what he says. Fortunately for you, all three of ‘em are pretty forgiving, and you don’t have bad intentions, so I’m sure you’ll be just fine.

About Tick: Are you creeped out by those scissors? Well, that’s just natural. But Tick’s a pretty nice guy when he’s not on the job, although you won’t catch him alone, since he’s always with Luck or Maria. 

About Maria: If she tries to stab you, take it as a compliment and fight her with all you have! She can’t beat me, but she’s pretty strong, so fighting her will be good training for you. Or you’ll die, if you’re too weak. Either way, I look forward to seeing you match up against her sometime.

About Poe: You might run into a detective if you hang around Fontaine too much... It’d probably be best for you to steer clear of him, if you can. He doesn’t operate under the normal laws. Well, I don’t either, but there’s no guarantee that detective is going to be on your side.

About the Fatui: Recently, some of the guys they’ve got stationed in Fontaine have been bothering the Gandors. For the first time in a while, my brothers called me to help ‘em out, so I made an example of those Fatui soldiers. All in all, I wouldn’t have an issue with ‘em if they didn’t stick their nose into the Gandor family. Now I can’t help but give ‘em extra trouble when I’ve got the time.

About the Archons: I don’t care how powerful they are.. To me, the Archons might as well be nothing. 

More About Claire - I: Am I human? Haha, that’s a pretty good question! I don’t know about that myself, so I’ll have to give you an answer when I’ve got one.

More About Claire - II: I’ll tell you the truth. I created the myth of the Rail Tracer myself, and I told it to some of my passengers. It spread like wildfire, and I’m sure people think it’s some creature from the Abyss, but the Rail Tracer has always been me. Or, at least, it’s been me since I decided to become it.

More About Claire - III: The railroad line losing business is because of an incident that happened a couple months ago. Most people think the Rail Tracer killed all those innocent passengers, but in reality, it was the innocent and the lucky who got left alive. 

More About Claire - IV: If you’re scared of me because I killed all those people, don’t be. I don’t want to kill you. Since you’re working to save my world, it’s only natural that I’d like it if you didn’t die!

More About Claire - V: Everything in this world is a lie. You, the Archons, the Fatui... Even my brothers. None of them are real, because I’m dreaming. Every single thing in this world is part of my dream, and when I wake up I’ll be the only one left. Because of that, I’m the strongest person in the world, and if I want something to happen, it will.

Claire’s Hobbies: Before I was a conductor, I was an acrobat! I still like to swing around where I can. Even someone like me has to stay in shape.

Claire’s Troubles: Since I can’t always be there with my family, I’m a little concerned something might happen to ‘em while I’m gone. But then again, I believe in them, so they won’t fail.

Favorite Food: The restaurant down the street from the Coraggioso serves the best pasta there is. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say that--it was much better when Berga made it.

Least Favorite Food: I’m really not picky about that kinda thing. I’ll eat just about anything you put in front of me.

Feelings About Ascension - Intro: if you work hard, and you want to get stronger, then you’ll get stronger. That’s just how it is.

Feelings About Ascension - Building Up: It’s thanks to the jobs you’ve brought me on that I’m able to keep growing in strength. I guess I should be thanking you!

Feelings About Ascension - Climax: The truth is, I will always be the strongest person in the world. But even for me, there’s always room for improvement.

Feelings About Ascension - Conclusion: Every single bit of strength you have comes from you, and if people try to attribute that to some kind of luck or inherent skill, you should put ‘em in their place. 

[lesbiandanhowell]

killing eve season 1 & 2

okay so, I just finished my third rewatch of the first two seasons and I used it to write out some things I noticed, you may not have paid attention to before.

In 1x02 Villanelle gets a card with the information for her new job and it says “de ville” on it and I found that very funny, because it’s a hint to her name just like the perfume bottle later.

I am still trying to figure out what the colors of the title screens mean, because I am convinced they aren’t random. It doesn’t line up with the color scheme during the kill in each episode, I checked that, but I don’t really have any other idea yet. If you have any let me know, because I would really love to figure that out haha

In 1x04 Villanelle is called out on her crush on Eve after asking “did she say anything about me and Konstantin already then says “you have such a crush” WHICH SHE DOESN’T DENY. 

Okay we’re now getting more into interesting things I promise. In 1x05 Villanelle corners Eve and tells her, that if she went high enough she would probably find out they work for the same people. I honestly see that as foreshadowing for the connection between Konstantin and Carolyn, because they are the respective superior of the two and that’s like right in front of them. But I also could imagine that in the end we find out that The Twelve and MI6 are even more connected/ the same, like that seems reasonable if you ask me.

When she tries to fight off Villanelle Eve uses a toilet brush, which is hilarious, but I like to think that with her kill later in 2x02 Villanelle actually gives a nod to that. Like stabbing someone with a knitting needle is so strange that Eve would know it is Villanelle anyway, especially because of the call, but she makes the extra effort with the toilet brush.

The season finale is always charged but 1x08 gave us a lot and I appreciate that. For one we saw Villanelle and Eve getting on Konstantins nerves with the same tick, clicking the handle in his car and that was cute, because “we are the same” as Villanelle likes to say.

When they are in the ballroom thing and Villanelle tells Konstantin not to break her heart, that makes sense, because they have the closest relationship Villanelle has and he is like the one person that cares about her. But WHAT WAS THE REASON for Villanelle to say the same to Eve, like that is proof how much control Eve already has over her at that point. She is so vulnerable in that moment and whenever she is with Eve, like when she offers that they run away together, Villanelle does consider it for a moment, like she actually wants to. And that is also a nice nod, because in season one finale Eve offers they run away and stabs Villanelle after and in season two finale Villanelle offers they run away and shoots Eve after. They both have a short temper, can’t deal with rejection and are still incredibly soft for each other, that’s what we learn from this.

One of my favorite moments was in 2x02 when Carolyn tells Eve “don’t get all giddy and start singing along to the radio in the car” because THAT EXACT THING HAPPENS ONE EPISODE LATER. We see Villanelle singing along to the radio because she is happy and like, that parallel man, I love it. Also Villanelle asking if Eve talked about her, ma’am you are so in love please.

But if we’re honestly the whole episode has chefs kiss moments. “you think she loves you? then make her hate you, hate is something she understands, it’s manageable, look what happens to the people she loves, she loves you to death” Konstantin says that after Villanelle shoots him and he is believed dead and honestly did anyone really think the same thing wouldn’t happen with Eve after he said that? That is such clear foreshadowing and like the exact same thing does happen to Eve. V shoots her, she is believed dead, just like Konstantin. Also we see Eve later on 2x08 saying that Villanelle doesn’t understand love and doesn’t know what it means, because Konstantin told her so. He told her love is something she doesn’t understand and she I think wanted to believe him because it gave her a reason to not give in to her feelings, because Villanelle wouldn’t understand them.

My favorite episode, 2x04 had also one of my favorite things they do. They sometimes mirror scenes between Eve and Villanelle and in that episode they had both of them do something out of character at the same time because they were upset about the other. Villanelle with the drugs in Amsterdam, out of character because she at first didn’t wanna do it, but then did and she doesn’t like losing control, but she definitely does by how she wakes up. For Eve it’s smoking, like she even says she hasn’t smoked in ages, but does it in that scene and I just love seeing these little changes.

The horrible powerpoint presentation about psychopaths in 2x05, sigh. I always wanted to check of the things he says apply to Villanelle and I honestly, don’t think they do. One is dishonesty and Villanelle is honest, she doesn’t lie when people ask her if she is gonna kill them, I think that might be because to her truth and lie aren’t a concept like it is to us. Like she says to Eve she doesn’t really know if she is telling the truth so I could imagine that lying is the same and also I guess she just doesn’t see the point of it, which really considering her makes sense. “inability to form long lasting, intimate relationships” and I definitely partly agree with this, because V doesn’t feel so this one would be hard but we see her feeling around Eve and I would like to believe that she could actually make it work with her. I just think she can’t form relationships because everyone is scared of her, thinks she is crazy and avoids her so really how would she get close to anyone if no one wants her? In that sense I don’t really think it’s her fault she doesn’t have any relationships but more that no one ever gave her a chance, but Eve kind of does. And lastly poverty of emotions, which I do see in Villanelle, because she says she doesn’t feel things, but also she shows a lot of emotions. Like she gets angry and upset with Konstantin when she is told she has to kill Eve and she look happy when she talks to or about Eve and she gets this childish joy, so it’s not like she doesn’t express emotions. Overall in my book V is not a psychopath because she is just a very broke and hurt person that hasn’t been loved enough to be the person she could be, no one can be sane when they haven’t been loved by anyone.

In love Billie and the whole episode 2x06 is such an important one for not only Villanelle but her and Eve's relationship, they both have to work together and are really vulnerable around each other in a way. Something I noticed is when Villanelle kills the woman by pushing her into traffic she makes sure that Eve is watching, like she knows that Eve likes watching her. And when we see Villanelle standing outside in the rain at Eves house it also plays into this because like Eve said to Hugo she likes watching Villanelle but also being watched by her and the episode gives us both. I think Villanelle standing in the rain is a very big love declaration actually because Villanelle is all about comfort and having the nicest things, but she can’t possibly be comfortable out in the rain, but does it for Eve.

Something that is just cute is Villanelle picking up the Alaska snow globe in Nikos storage unit and asking if she can keep it, when she one episode later offers Eve to run away to Alaska together.

In that episode a lot happened, but something that stuck out to me and turns out became important/ foreshadowing was Konstantin saying “almost all of them” when talking about Villanelles family being dead. He always knew the true story about her family I am sure and he was maybe trying to protect her from the pain finding out the truth caused her, because we all know Konstantin loves Villanelle.

Something else in this conversation is definitely one of my favorite moments between Villanelle and Konstantin. The way he asks “What is it about her?” has such incredibly depth to it, like Kim really put so much in this one sentence I will forever be grateful. He doesn’t judge her, he doesn’t criticize Villanelle he just genuinely wants

Something I have noticed about Season 3 that I really, really like is how well the new writers pick up on shows that happened earlier in the episode, like they know their show and give the smallest nods to things that happened in prior seasons. I already wrote something about Episode 1 and Episode 2 and I want to get into the others and the things I noticed as well, but three shook me to the core (and then episode 5 as well), I haven’t been able to pick myself up since, but I will get around to it eventually.

I will soon do another rewatch, paying attention to some things in particular that I want to look at (like the colors of the titel screen and what they could me for example). As always, let me know what you think, any theories of your own and enjoy the episode tomorrow!

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 7

"Oh come on - you're going to eventually own more than two sets of clothing you know."

Eli had once said Gale seemed like 'an animated fellow' - if he was animated then Selene was animated to the power of ten; there were times she thought of the builder as a hyper little puppy and it wasn't a personality type she was entirely used to just yet so the woman's eagerness was a bit daunting sometimes.

"You've already spent a lot of money on me-" Eli started, only for Selene to make a hushing gesture.

"Yes, I have, and I've got gols to spare -- just to rub it in Higgin's face once I purposely made certain I stayed the number one top shop in Portia for three years in a row.  That built up quite the savings and I'm not going to be spending it on myself anytime soon.  Now come on - you need more than a bed and a tiny table. Go nuts!" the woman laughed, gesturing at the various furniture items that lined the walls of...was it Paulie?  Paulie's store. ((Continued below cut))

She'd eventually decided on staying with Selene; Happy Apartments had reminded her too much of the barracks, and she...wasn't ready to deal with that constant reminder yet.  So, the offered, spacious room at Selene's had been her choice, and Selene had awakened her bright and early to go furniture shopping.  The bed was easy: a simple wooden frame and headboard that had an ivy pattern carved into it and a basic mattress; the frame and headboard were painted a nice cream color and the ivy was a deep green.  Along with it she'd chosen a matching bedside table that had two small drawers built in, and she'd deemed that sufficient enough to start out with but Selene was...very insistent on furnishing the entire room.

There was another small table that matched the bed, and the builder woman kept "subtly" nudging her toward a bookcase with matching chair as well as a piece that was half dresser (with mirror) and half armoire; all of it was a pale wood that, while it wasn't the exact shade of cream as the headboard, was still a close enough color that it all could pass as a "matching" bedroom set.

"Even if I say no, this is going to magically turn up in my room isn't it?" she asked dryly.

Selene giggled.   "Not 'magically,' no.  If you like them, then let's get them -- Paulie'll even move them in for us."

"That's right!  Because it's the manly thing to do for such a large order," the giant man laughed.

The man was...pretty obsessed with the word "manly" but his laugh was genuine; he and Selene had that same level of friendliness going on. Hopefully that friendliness would remain after he found out who she was and where (and when) she'd come from.

Anyway...back to the matter at hand. Apparently everything in the shop was something Paulie had made himself, and she had a feeling that everything she picked up now was as high quality as it looked and would probably last her several decades so at least Selene wasn't paying a premium for furniture that would fall apart in two years.  "...fine, all right.  But just these things and that's IT, got it?"

Selene snickered then held a hand out to Paulie; as Eli watched the man took a handful of gols (why the world had gone back to physical coin-based currency was beyond her) and dropped it into her palm.

"When exactly did you two have time to make a bet on her wearing me down?"

"As you were looking at the bed frames. When the smallish builder sets her mind to something very little will stop her," Paulie said.  "And sometimes that means I lose a manly bet."

Selene pocketed the handful of coin, looking smug.  "It was a righteous cause, I promise you.  You deserve to actually have a comfortable living space."

"I'll have all this delivered by end of the afternoon," Paulie went on.  "Did you have a floor plan in mind?"

"Nah, we can move it ourselves once you get it into the house," Selene replied.  "Thank you Paulie."  She gave the large man a hug and he returned it with enough force to lift the builder from her feet then waved at them as they headed out from the shop.

Outside the wind was blowing but the sky was clear; Eli zipped her jacket back up against the chill and looked to Selene.  "Now what?"

"Well... Merlin is helping Petra check for any mention or pictures of the tool we need, so they're busy today.  I wanted to wait to see if they found anything and I also have the factory building the last pieces of the lockable elevator car at the moment so even if I had all the measurements or assurances that I could go ahead and try casting that tool we need I'd still have to wait for that to finish.  So...basically, we've got the day free aside from being home when Paulie delivers the furniture.  Want to get a late breakfast?"

Eli opened her mouth to reply when a comically large set of scissors over a storefront across the way caught her attention.  "-is that a salon?"

"Huh?  - oh, yeah.  Sanwa runs it - cuts, styles, and dyes hair.  And beards, but that doesn't apply to you," Selene answered, grinning.

With a small smile she looked away from the scissors shining in the morning sun and back to the builder.  "Don't suppose I could rely on your charity for one more thing, could I?"

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

The apricots Selene grew along the western fence line were juicy and tasted fantastic, and made a for a refreshing snack after an hour or so of moving furniture around.

Paulie had carried it all in and then she and Selene had pushed things into place; Selene was now off double checking on the final pieces of that locking car mechanism, and Eli was sitting on a stool in front of the fence with her back pressed to the wooden slats as she slowly munched on one of the last apricots the builder had gotten off the trees before winter had set in.

It seemed that along with new or hybrid fruits and vegetables a lot of plants she was familiar with had developed a rather long shelf-life on top of having shifted what seasons they typically grew in -- in this case, Selene's apricot trees kept producing right up to the first frost of late fall whereas the trees Eli had known in her time period had mostly stopped dropping fruit by late summer (and the apricots back then definitely hadn't lasted for a few months without showing signs of rot or withering).  There was a single apple tree in the little "grove" along the fence and from what Selene had said the apple tree at least produced on a schedule that Eli remembered.

There were neat, orderly rows of planters next to the trees and while they were empty now there were little signs attached to them to identify what had been there: chili peppers, cotton (such a small amount though...surely that wasn't useful enough to grow so little of it?), green lettuce, pumpkins, wheat (again how was it useful to grow just a few tiny planters full, versus an entire field?)

It was a small comfort to actually see proof that not everything had changed so drastically but that was about all that was immediately familiar on the property.

In the planters among the normal plants Eli recognized were more of the weird ones: bamboo papaya, cornball (this one was at least...SORT of understandable?  It seemed to be corn that just grew in an orb instead of a long cob), layered carrots (something that tasted like a carrot yet was shaped like a turnip and colored a stripey green and white that resembled neither vegetable), potato fruit (looked like an apple, tasted like a sweet potato), sisal... There were remnants of flowers that Selene had called rainbow flowers, and despite there being only withered stems and dried petals Eli could see the name was very fitting.

And over there, separate from the fruit trees, was a cluster of seven trees that were totally unrecognizable; Selene had called them nitra, zeolora, and crystella trees and Eli had never seen anything so bizarre as trees that grew...rock and crystal-looking "fruit" that hung heavy from the branches or leaked from the bark like a growth.  Whatever or however the rocks and crystals grew the builder had said that the trees weren't ready to be harvested but had promised to let her help when it was time; what had gone wrong in nature to create trees that grew rocks?

No... What had gone wrong with the world that gave chemicals and biological weapons free reign to do all THIS?

'At least some of it's familiar...' she kept thinking to herself.

And she had to keep latching on to the familiar things, but there were precious few compared to everything that had changed... Plants were different, the trees were different (even the "normal" ones growing naturally around the shop - Eli didn't recognize those species at all), languages had disappeared, technology was gone...

And then there was all the people, and all the nations, that were gone too.

A twinge hit her in the gut and she leaned her head back against the fence behind her; the change in posture let the light breeze blow right down the front of her, through the little opening between the V-shape of the zipper on her jacket and the tiny gap at her collar bone where her sweater neck drooped slightly.  The sudden stab of cold against her skin drew her attention away from the black hole of thought she was about to tumble down and she took a steadying breath.

After a few moments she did zip her jacket up to beneath her chin but she stayed leaning as she was; from the workshop and warehouse across the yard Eli could hear the noise of machines pounding and grinding away -- the locking elevator car was nearly done with only the front and back wall panels needing completion.  The lock itself was fairly clever and Selene had seemed especially proud of herself as she showed it off to her earlier; it required both a physical key and a magnet of a certain strength to turn the tumbler and lift an inner locking bar that fit into the gap the door would ordinarily slide effortlessly into, and without the magnet to lift the bar you'd have to tear the entire door apart to get that bar up and out of the way (and by that point you wouldn't even need to as the door would be less a door and more a gaping hole).  

Selene had selected a pile of magnets of various shapes and sizes but all roughly the same strength and the plan was only some of them would get a key and some would get a magnet (with a few exceptions - Gale would have both a key and magnet and so would at least one of the Civil Corps members). It essentially meant that it would take two people to get the car unlocked, which Eli considered a little overkill but was willing to let the mayor have the final call.

It did make her wonder what kind of war had just passed between the Alliance and this Duvos...Gale was dead set on absolutely nothing in those ruins falling into Duvos hands even though Eli knew there wasn't a chance in hell that anyone on the planet could replicate anything that could be found down there.

The thrumming and clanking of the workshop factory rather nicely covered up the sound of approaching hoofbeats coming from the direction of the city gates; Eli wasn't even aware Arlo had gotten that close until he'd said hello, and then she felt like an idiot at how she'd jumped out of her skin at the sudden greeting.

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

"Didn't mean to startle you, sorry."

Spacer nickered quietly - almost like the horse was also apologizing on his behalf.

Eli sat up from where she'd been leaning against the fence.  "Not your fault, was just...thinking, I guess.  I need to get back into the habit of listening for every little noise."

With a nod Arlo quietly gave her a once over; she was looking stronger every day, and now that she was out here with Selene she'd be right next to the Civil Corps usual jogging path.  "-you're looking well.  Does Dr. Xu have you exercising to build your muscles back up?"

"Not yet, but getting out to the facility and working inside it is doing a pretty good job of getting me back to what would be normal for anyone else.  It's going to take a lot of work and protein to get back to what's 'normal' for me."

"When the Civil Corps does training exercises we usually start out with a run that begins at the gates and goes right by here - maybe you can start joining us, when we get back to it."

Eli smiled at him.  "I'd like that.  It'd be a good way to get the lay of the land too."  She jerked a thumb over toward Selene's factory.  "She's almost got the locking car done so whatever schedule you had before you ought to be getting back to soon."

Arlo gently nudged Spacer a little bit closer so he didn't feel like he was just a few levels shy of shouting at her to be heard over the noise of the factory going at full steam.  "I'll be helping to haul it out and install it - how big is it?"

"Big enough to properly fit into the shaft, and with thick walls and door.  The lock's actually pretty clever too."

"Good.  We need clever to keep people out of there.  Has Gale talked to you yet?"

He noted that she paused (it was barely perceptible - could've been mistaken for a flinch) before offering him another smile.

"Yeah, he has.  This coming sunday the cat's out of the bag."

"I don't expect any trouble but Remington and I will be there regardless."

Eli nodded and an awkward silence fell; she took a halfhearted bite out of the mostly finished apricot in her hand but was chewing it slowly, like she didn't want to swallow it.

Sensing a change of subject was probably needed Arlo cleared his throat. "-your haircut is nice.  Suits you."

"Thanks," came Eli's quick answer - the relief in her tone was palpable.  She ran a hand through her hair; it was shaved almost to her skull on the sides and in the back, but the top had been left long enough to comb to the left.  "It's how I wore it before.  Fits better under helmets and there's less there for someone to grab a handful of if they manage to get close and I don't have said helmet on."

Ha...a haircut doubling as part of personal defense.  That was something he hadn't given thought to before.  "So you've met Sanwa then.  What'd you think of him?"

"Chatty fellow.  Selene mentioned I was new to the area and he started waxing poetic about Portia and how peaceful it is out here.  I guess that's why you only need three Civil Corps members, eh?" she asked, chuckling quietly.

Arlo smiled faintly, shaking his head.  "He does have a point.  There's not a lot of interest in joining the Civil Corps because not a lot of people think we need a large group of us because Portia is so peaceful.  Gale does have the budget set aside to hire on more people as needed or required, and Paulie helps out as he's able -- we did have a recent incident with a rogue knight that had people clamoring for more town security but that sentiment only lasted a couple of weeks."

"...a...rogue knight?" Eli repeated, raising an eyebrow.  "Like, metal armor, sword, chivalry knight?"

"Sort of.  He had some armor on and a sword but he was commanding an All Source AI and other AIs to attack Portia.  We sustained some heavy damage but were able to fend him off with help from Django."

Eli let out a barked "ha!" before spinning on her stool to rest her arms on the fence and her chin on her arms.  "I knew it.  That man carries himself too confidently to just be a chef."

"He...what?"

"Django.  I met him earlier when Selene and I got brunch.   He walks and carries himself with a certain confidence and balance that I'd expect out of someone who's been trained in combat.  Is the knight-theme of his diner just for show, or is he some sort of knight too?"

"He's retired.  You could tell all that from watching how someone walks?"

Eli nodded.  "You can.  Might take a bit to notice with some more than others but with him it's a dead giveaway.  If you ever want to learn what to look for I can teach you, no problem."

"I'll keep that in mind.  Could be useful."  Arlo glanced toward the door of the factory; he was tempted to get down and go check on progress but if Eli said Selene almost had it done he was willing to take her word for it.  "I need to go on patrol.  Would you like to ride along? Get the lay of the land, like you said earlier, and maybe we'll find somewhere you recognize."

Eli seemed to consider that a moment, then nodded; as she stood she whipped her arm and sent what was left of the apricot in hand whizzing toward the compost heap across the yard.  Arlo tracked its arc and nodded approvingly as it landed on top and sent a small clump of rotting leaves and cornball husks sliding down the side of the heap.

"Nice throw."

"Thanks.  I'll let Selene know where I'm headed and then we can head out."

She headed into the workshop and was back a few moments later; Arlo held a hand out and helped her mount up behind him before nudging Spacer into a trot.  

Across from Selene's shop was Sophie's ranch; as they drew away from the workshop the hissing and pounding noises faded and the soft sounds of cattle and horses started to become apparent.  The wheat fields had long since been harvested and as they ambled along Arlo could pick out tracks across the field were someone had been walking and another longer stretch that looked like someone had been sledding there.  These spots and of course the areas where the cows and horses wandered had thawed out down to the ground underneath and stood out as dark, muddy spots against the remaining slushy snow that still clung to the ground (and was also a reminder of the mud they had to wade through daily to get to and from the facility as well).

"Were there any farms nears Dubei?"

"On the very outskirts, and also hundreds of community plots on the rooftops."

Arlo blinked.  "On the rooftops?  How?"

He heard a soft chuckle behind him.  "Just a reinforced area able to handle extra weight of soil and water, good drainage, that sort of thing.  Almost every roof had some sort of food garden or ornamental one - Dubei loved their greenery.  Planters and trees on every street and corner, shelves to let vines come down the sides of buildings.  Lots of potted plants inside buildings too.  From far off it'd be easy to miss among all the lights, signs, and the glass reflecting everything but down in close, on the streets and in the buildings themselves, you'd see green everywhere."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

He felt movement against his back as she shifted, then "-not when you have AIs specifically handling the work."

"An AI for every task, sounds like."

From the corner of an eye he saw Eli nod.  "They did the bulk of menial and hard labor, and of course were invaluable assistants in day to day goings on.  Lots of data storage, for one."

"The historical records seemed to suggest AIs did everything for humans."

"NOT everything," Eli corrected, tone firm. "They couldn't do everything.  And we couldn't trust them with everything anyway."

"Couldn't trust an AI?  But I at least thought they were everywhere."

"They were.  But would YOU want to trust every aspect of life to something that was one damaged power supply or corrupted file away from shutting down at the worst possible time?"

"I guess not."

They rode on in silence for a bit; the farm passed by and they were approaching the fields beyond Sophie's fences. He turned Spacer to the right and began to follow the fence line up toward where the air balloon platform was.  In full view from here was the water wheel that fed an irrigation system for the tree farm, as well as two towering ruins that were little more than metal husks -- they hadn't held much of importance when they'd first officially been delved into about twenty five years ago and since then they'd been stripped of as much useful scrap as they could without causing them to collapse.

Very carefully he turned his head to catch a view of Eli behind him; she was studying the shape of the ruins in the distance and seemed to be comparing them to the water wheel.  He stopped Spacer at the DeeDee stop and shifted to look back at her.  "Anything seem familiar yet?"

"I'm...PRETTY sure that rounded building there was a planetarium -- a, uh, a place where you could learn about space and the solar system.  That rounded top was usually a theater where you could sit and watch a presentation projected onto the ceiling that, because it was rounded and also huge, seemed to drop you right in the middle of the movie.  It's easy to trick the brain into thinking you're moving if you're surrounded with the right sensory information so the whole point of the presentation was to make you feel like you were literally flying through space examining planets."

"Sounds like fun."

Eli laughed quietly behind him.  "It was.  And it's something I'm sure even your level of technology could replicate."

Arlo smiled a bit at that and guided Spacer off to the left, diverting toward the elevator that led up to the hot springs.  As he scanned the area and the bluffs ahead he wasn't seeing anything out of the ordinary - there weren't even any footprints up this way.  He checked that the elevator was still working as it should and then turned Spacer down the path back toward the road that would lead to the harbor.

Technically he was going well out of the way of his usual patrol route but with Eli with him he wanted to give her the best chance possible to recognize anything in the immediate area; that she'd sort of recognized a planetarium was, he assumed, a good thing, and maybe with a few more landmarks she'd be able to piece together a map of Dubei and know approximately where she was now, 300 years later.

The lighthouse was always in view from almost anywhere you cared to stand once you were south of Sophie's, along with the top of the cargo crane.  There was a rumble in the distance suggesting the bus that wheeled around Portia was just past the trees up ahead (that was where the bus stop was, after all) and aside from the soft lapping of waves against the shore there wasn't much else going on out here.  He could do a quick loop then circle back north toward Amber Island's bridge, then keep going...

"Was Dubei close to the shoreline?"

"It was built out over the shoreline," came Eli's answer.  "Big pylons, gigantic harbor.  Docks and walkways.  I'm not sure where we are on Dubei's shoreline just yet though."

Arlo nodded and kept Spacer moving at a leisurely trot.  Eli seemed a little interested in seeing the "haunted" cave on Amber Island so he made a mental note to make sure she got a chance (knowing Selene if she caught wind of it she'd drag the woman out there herself) and then kept northeast toward Bassanio Falls.

"Is that...desert, over the river?"

Arlo nodded.  "It is.  Eufala Desert.  There's some ruins out that way and Dana's mining operation in Ingall's Mine.  If we'd gone across that second bridge we just passed on the right we would've arrived in South Block - it's a tiny outpost right at the edge of the desert."  As he glanced back to her he saw her frown, then shake her head.  "I'm guessing there wasn't any desert near Dubei in your time."

"No, there wasn't."

She didn't elaborate further; the lift to the top of the falls was where, lately, Arlo had been stopping his patrol route -- now that they were having to keep an eye on the facility in the marsh whoever got the afternoon shift was usually the one who skirted the edge of the marsh and then circled around and down from WOW Industries...

But, the very top of the falls was fairly high up and you could see for miles around up there so that would be the optimal place to have a look from. When they were within walking distance of the lift he got down from Spacer's back and walked the horse the rest of the way; the DeeDee stop would double nicely as a hitching post and there he left Spacer tethered before offering Eli a hand down.

"Let's head up - you might spot something you know."

As soon as they were at the top of the lift Eli immediately spotted the towering ruins of WOW Industries.  "Did you people give names to any of these ruins?"

"Not really.  But the ones we were able to find mention of, or ones with surviving signs, we just call them by their names.  That's WOW Industries."

Eli's eyes lit up.  "THAT'S WOW?  Well, that's half of WOW. All right...all right, so then..."

She jogged up the path ahead of him and he sped up to keep pace, and then almost collided with her when she abruptly stopped.

"What the heck are THOSE?" she asked then, pointing off to their left where there was a flurry of movement near the tops of the trees.

Arlo squinted off toward where she was pointing and caught the barest glimpse of fluttering wings.  "Panbats."

"Pan...bats?" she repeated slowly, turning to look at him in confusion.

"Panbats.  They're pests that feed on trees - we had an infestation of them at the tree farm a few years ago.  Usually they're pretty harmless but if they're hungry or you scare one they might attack."

Eli continued to stare at him for a few breaths more, then turned on her heel to head up the path further before turning to the left to creep up to the base of a tree; at the base she knelt down, putting the tree partially between herself and the panbats that were flapping around.  Arlo came up behind her, counting seven of the beasts; he was more interested in watching how Eli watched them -- he wouldn't say she was sizing them up but she was eying them with far more than a passing curiosity.  As they hunched there, observing, Arlo could see one large panbat alight on a bough and pull a shriveled apple free from a dry branch before beginning to suck at it.

"...do you have pandas, and bats, in this world?" Eli asked quietly.

"Bats, yes.  Not sure what a panda is."

"Pandas - panda bears.  Think...THESE things, but no wings, and about half the size of your horse."

Arlo shook his head. "We don't have those around here, at least.  Couldn't say for the rest of the world though."

Eli let out a sigh that trailed off into a faint raspberry noise before she stood and turned back to the WOW Industries building.  "Well... The good news is I know WOW Industries, and I know where it was.  We're in the southeastern corner of Dubei and now I can also confirm that the shoreline is NOT where it should be, and that none of these bluffs or waterfalls here are where they're supposed to be.  It's like...it's like parts of the land got shifted, or sheared off."

He didn't know what to say to that and instead followed silently as she walked up to the building.  She stared up at the building and at the door, then circled around the ruin's foundation to the left; there was a flat metal platform here they'd assumed was some kind of loading dock that served double duty as a canopy that covered three enormous pipes coming out of the building.  Not far from the edge of the platform was an enormous, wide stone retaining wall that overlooked the eastern border of the Collapsed Wasteland.  There was another wall and a line of trees that blocked the majority of the view of the Wasteland from the top of this particular wall - it was hardly more than a crater with a few intact buildings clinging to the land so there wasn't much to see regardless.

Despite the obstructed view Eli was still standing atop the wall and, while he couldn't be sure, it sort of looked like she was measuring distances with her hands - using her fingertips lined up with the landscape and tops of the ruins.

He was content to wait and let her do whatever she needed; down below them he could just make out slurpees wandering about -- he wondered what she'd think of THOSE.

"Oh Fate...why is THIS the way the story goes..."

He just barely heard her speak.  "-huh?"

"Nothing.  Just having a crisis of faith.  Or, in my case, a crisis of Fate."

"Ah."

She ran her hand through her hair again, and paced back and forth a few steps in each direction.  "--what religions even exist now?"

"We have the Church of the Light.  There might be others but I'm not sure - I've never been very far from Portia."  He waited a moment, watching her pace.  "What religions existed back then?"

"Hundreds of thousands.  Mine specifically was the Foundational Three."

Arlo shook his head.  "I've never heard of that one.  The Research Center might have, but not me."

"Great..." she sighed.  "Well.  The Foundational Three are..."  She paused, kicking away snow and ice from the stone under her before dropping down to sit.  "Fate.  Balance.  And Judgement. Fate is the Great Curator, and ensures that every soul born into the world has a story to tell and, when those lives are over, makes sure their stories are made a part of the cosmos.  Balance is the Silent Observer - Balance makes sure your life isn't too hard or too easy because too hard means you give up and too easy means you don't grow.  And Judgement is the Arbiter, the one who carries out decisions made by Balance.  Judgement will remove or place obstacles as needed, and punish or reward those as needed -- those who make it their purpose to make other lives miserable will find themselves on the receiving end of Judgement's wrath, and that's not somewhere you want to be.  And on the other end of the spectrum are those who are given a helping hand to overcome their troubles if it proves to be more than they can bear."

She trailed off, staring out at the treetops below them.  Arlo likewise cleared off a spot to sit and dropped down next to her.  "It sounds like a nice religion."

Eli nodded.  "Compared to most I'd say it definitely is.  Certainly more kind than a lot I'd heard of back then.  A lot of religions threatened doom and hellfire and damnation, or the destruction of the soul, or losing the ability to be reborn into another life - always more threats of the bad things versus promises of the good things.  The Foundational Three always made the most sense to me though."

"Why's that?"  He asked almost without thinking, then quickly added "you don't need to answer that if it's too personal."

She waved a hand dismissively.  "Nah, it's fine.  In fact, the Three actually encourage you to share information and stories.  That's part of why it made sense to me...there's things that should be shared, and remembered.  And there's proof all around you that the stories told keep echoing - there's a reason people believe in ghosts.  Those are just stories that weren't ready to end."

"I'm not sure I follow."

At that Eli laughed quietly, pulling up a knee to rest her chin on it as she wrapped her hands around her leg.  "So, you have ghost stories here, right?  I'd assume so being as you have a 'haunted' cave attraction."   When he nodded she continued.  "A ghost is a soul.  A story.  And sometimes, when someone dies, instead of their story joining the infinite collection the story itself hangs around.  Sometimes it's there because the soul feels their story was cut short and they're upset.   Sometimes it remains because the soul feels too strong of a connection to someone else's story, and they can't leave yet because their story is still being written, just on someone else's pages.  That's how you end up with guardian spirits or the angry, hateful ghosts that appear in scary stories -- it's just someone's life, someone's story, that wasn't ready to close the cover yet.  Eventually though the cover closes, the story returns to the shelves, and the details of that story are written in the fabric of existence where anyone, at any time, may catch a whisper of it even if they never knew that person."

She went quiet after that and Arlo mulled over everything she'd just said; it was a neat and tidy way to think of the universe, for sure.  There was even a small bit of comfort in it, thinking that both people he knew and also those he'd never known or would ever know would somehow know about him when he was gone...granted, that thought was terrifying too - a bunch of strangers hearing only bits and pieces of things he'd done or the type of person he'd been.  Anyone could make any sort of story out of scraps and believe themselves right.

"What happens when you accomplish whatever Fate said your story was supposed to be about?" he asked into the silence.

Eli shrugged.  "How would you know you'd done that?"

"...no idea."

"And no one else would know either.  Only Fate would.  And even stories that seem complete can keep going.  The only thing you can know for sure is you have a starting point in your story, and somewhere there's an ending point, but there's an infinite number of ways to get there."  She trailed off again, then inhaled deeply and looked over to him.  "Though I definitely understand the NEED to know why your story is going where its going.  What am I supposed to accomplish?"  With a flick of her fingers she gestured to the Wasteland ahead of them.  "How in the world does THIS fit into any reasonable story Fate would want to tell?"

He didn't have an answer for that so he just stayed quiet; the sun was setting and the breeze was getting a bit more chilly and out of habit he rubbed his hands together.  

The movement attracted her attention. "We can head back.  I've seen enough to have at least some idea of where I am.  It's just...staggering that there's so little left."

He nodded and stood, and offered her a hand up; they walked back to Spacer in silence and began to make their way back to Portia.

About halfway there he heard her sigh again - it was more of a groan though.  "What's wrong?"

"I just realized something.  Something that I was doing."

"What's that?"

"I want to know what happened here, and what that facility actually is and why I was down inside it.  And I keep catching myself thinking of those three things - what happened, what it is, why I was there - as all separate pieces of the puzzle, when I SHOULD be thinking of it as one big knot to unravel.  Seeing WOW, and spotting the sewer network got me to thinking about what's gone, what should be where, and how the landscape changed and for a moment it was like THAT was the only problem.  And I know I'm doing it because, to be blunt, I'm terrified to actually get the answer..."

"I'm sorry," was all he could think to say.

The ride back to Portia was quiet after that.

[secret-engima]

Pretty Song verse Drabble: Night and Song

(oh look a Thing! Hope you all enjoy. Also the song in this is this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNV593nUTQw because oh boy is it pretty.)

...

     It was well past moonrise when she felt it. The slight stirring of confusion among the daemons. A few of them turned their heads in the same direction, shuffling and chattering softly in confusion. She paused in playing her music, tilted her head and listened in equal confusion.

     Was that … music? Music that wasn’t hers?

     Humming softly to keep her friends calm, she diverted from the nearest Haven and instead made for the strange sound. It was music. It was flute, deeper and huskier sounding than her little one, and Pretty Song wondered who else played music for the daemons. They’d never said anything about it before. A few of the imps chittered, unfamiliar with the song or the player, and she realized that the player must be new. She wondered who it was.

     Pretty Song fell silent altogether as she carefully peaked over the last hill between her and the echoing sound. There was a human base down there and for a moment she almost ran away for fear of the humans living there and the bullets she was sure would come flying her way. But then she realized it was too scraggly and odd-looking to be a Nif base. This one was built in some of the old ruins that dotted the area, with huge spotlights set up to keep the daemons out. And actual humans patrolling the edges rather than the stiff-legged not-humans that were like daemons, but were deaf to her songs. So … not a fatal place, but still a human place. Not a safe place.

     There was a man out there, a good ways away from the patrolling humans, sitting just on the edge of the light, his toes in shadow, just out of reach of what most daemons would dare to attack, but definitely far closer to the darkness than humans usually went, far closer than the patrolling humans were going. Another man, bigger and heavier than the first, leaned against a piece of rubble well within the light, scowling at the first man like he wanted to hit him but couldn’t.

     The first man was playing a song on his flute. A few goblins shuffled slowly as near him as they dared, bobbing their heads to the music, their Thirst not as sated by her own music did these days, but still relaxed —for now, for as long as the song played, just like the early days before they had named her Pretty Song, before she had become one of them in all but Thirst and form—. Pretty Song tilted her head and listened from the safety of the shadows, watched as the man eyed the daemons listening to him nervously, but also … in curiosity. Like he was doing this on purpose, to see what would happen.

     His song stopped and the daemons that had been following Pretty Song all growled, the Thirst stirring in their heads as they scuffled closer to the man who was just on the edge of their reach. He looked up and seemed very surprised at having such a crowd now, yipped a little as one of the imps he’d been watching scratched angrily at the ground near his toes.

     “Nyx…” warned the man firmly in the light.

     “It’s fine,” said the first —Nyx? Was that his name?—, “they just don’t like it when I stop, I think.” Another angry scratching and chittering, the Thirst getting loud enough that Pretty Song twitched nervously for her whistle —they hadn’t been this Thirsty near her in a while and she didn’t want to get scratched or bitten—. But then the man raised his flute to his lips again and started a new song, making the daemons slowly settle down again.

     Oh.

     Oh she knew this song. That was Papa’s favorite song from long long ago, the first she’d ever sang for the daemons. They recognized it too, chirped and cooed and rattled their bones, as close to happy as they ever got. One of the Tonberry tugged gently on her sleeve, swayed silently to the rhythm in silent request. The man played nice, but he wasn’t Pretty Song, and this was Pretty Song’s song.

     She could do that.

     Licking her lips and hesitantly standing up so she could sing better, she waited for the melody to loop around again and started singing.

“Give me a flower, tell a little rhyme,”

“Make a melody and sing it all the time.”

     Both men jerked at the sound of her voice, the one who’d been playing yanking his flute away from his mouth with an angry screech of a ruined note to stare sharply into the darkness and Pretty Song cringed inwardly at both the attention and the way the daemons snarled, furious. This was their favorite song and the man had just ruined it. Two of the Tonberry waddled furiously forward, fully ready to risk the edges of light if it meant stabbing the man and Pretty Song hastily started humming the song again, quiet enough that the men … probably couldn’t hear her. But the daemons could and it calmed them down. Good. She didn’t want anyone to die tonight. Even if they were humans.

     Both men looked very pale as they stared into the darkness, the man in the light whispered, “Did you just…?”

     “I heard it,” the other whispered back, “still working on believing it.”

     “What should we do?”

     The black haired man fiddled with his flute and then hesitantly raised it back up to his lips. He started the song again. Pretty Song blinked, hesitated, then opened her mouth.

“Give me a flower, tell a little rhyme,”

“Make a melody and sing it all the time.”

     This time the man did not stop playing, though she could see his eyes frantically sweeping through the dark, like he was trying to find her. It made her nervous, but she didn’t stop singing. Her friends liked the song, and she liked it too.

“Show me a penny, listen to a loom,”

“Whisper to the wind and play a little tune.”

“Shine up your penny, jump into the air,”

“Whistle out a song to castles in the air.”

“Run in the grass then climb up on a dune,”

“Touch a hanging cloud and play a little tune.”

     The daemons swayed, burbling softly. They had never gotten to hear a flute and her voice at the same time before, she could only do one at a time. A few of the imps somersaulted in glee, and one of the Iron Giants groaned contentedly as he swayed. The Tonberry began all swaying their lit lanterns back and forth in time, and a few Bombs swirled around her. The men’s eyes widened. They could see her in the light of the Bombs now. But the man didn’t stop playing, just stared as around her, the daemons began to dance.

“Penny whistle, play a tune.”

“Play it for the babe with a silver spoon.”

“Play it for the stars and the man in the moon.”

“Penny whistle, play a tune.”

     They went through the song two whole times, the daemons around dancing for them in glee at having twice the music as usual. The Bombs nudged her hands in excitement and she gently patted them, unafraid of the crackling fire of their bodies —they were only hot when they were angry after all—. She ended up dancing with the daemons as she sang, caution forgotten in the fun, bare feet scuffing against the dirt as a Ronin bent way down to take her hands in its talons ever so gently and pull her around in clumsy circles.

     By the time the man finally stopped playing and she spun to a stop, the daemons were the calmest she’d felt in a long time … and she was a lot closer to the two men than she’d been before.

     Pretty Song froze, suddenly nervous. It had been a very long time since she had anything to do with humans. For a while she had slept in towns during the day after learning the night was safer for doing things, but then one day someone had found her little box fort and had tried to touch her in ways she’d hated, so she’d stabbed him in the neck with a sharp piece of glass she’d found in the dumpster hours earlier and run away. She hadn’t been back to town or human place since. The night was safer. At least if the daemons ever turned on her —which they wouldn’t she was their Pretty Song—, she knew all they would do was eat her.

     Both men looked very pale. And like they weren’t breathing. She wondered if they were going to scream. Some humans did when they saw her at night with her friends. Others tried to chase her, but only if it was light out, so she didn’t think they would do that —her friends would stop them if they did—. Then the man with the flute smiled. It was a wobbly smile, “Hey there. You’re, uh, you’re a really pretty singer.” Pretty Song blinked at him, not sure how to respond. The man’s smile was still a little funny looking, like it was hard for him to do it. He took a deep breath and shifted his weight like he was going to move. Pretty Song stiffened and shuffled to hide behind one of the Tonberry. The man immediately froze, “No, no, hey, hey it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I’m just- aren’t you hungry kid? Or cold?” He licked his lips and very slowly reached for the buttons of his coat, “I’m just taking this off okay? That’s all I’m doing.” She watched warily as he wiggled out of his coat and then shifted to gingerly hold it out toward her, “Here. You can have it. You look like you need it more than me. It’s okay-, I promise I won’t try to grab you or anything.”

     Pretty Song dithered for a moment while the daemons around her chittered in confusion. It was true that she was cold. Her clothes were falling apart, had been for a long time, but she had nothing else and she didn’t dare go into a human town to get more. Not when humans were so unsafe. Instinct said to not go closer. The man might grab her and hurt her. But… he had played such a pretty song with her. Papa’s song. And he had … very nice eyes. Big and blue and pretty. They looked … kind.

     She inched just close enough to snag the edge of the coat with her fingers. The man let it go in an instant and she dragged it with her a safe distance away before picking it up and looking it over, humming absently the entire time to keep her friends calm. It was very big, and heavy.

     It looked warm.

     She wiggled into it and immediately discovered the sleeves were far too long. She’d never be able to play her flute like this. Pretty Song pulled her arms out of the sleeves and, after a moment of debate, used the sleeves and the topmost button to fix the coat around her shoulders like a giant cape. The coat just barely brushed her ankles this way, its unfamiliar wait was big and just as warm as she’d thought it would be. The warmth sank into her bones and she hummed in pleasure before singing a shy thanks to the man. He smiled at her with too-bright eyes, “No problem, kiddo. You hungry?” She blinked at him, hope warring with fear. He was human, and most humans weren’t trustworthy. But he also seemed like he was truly kind. Maybe he was one of the rare kind humans?

     This time the other man tossed him something that crinkled, and when he held it out to her, she wasn’t nearly so skittish about taking it from his hand —one of her Ronin still followed her the entire way, just in case—. She backed away again to a safe distance before inspecting it. She assumed it was food, but it was in a wrapper. She tugged at the wrapper but couldn’t get it off. After several seconds of struggle, she pouted at it. The blue-eyed man said, “Oh, right, I should have opened it first, if you’ll just lemme-.” She patted one of the Tonberry on the head and held out the wrapped item. The Tonberry blinked at it before obligingly chopping it in half with his knife, leaving her to pick the two halves of food out from the wrapper. As she munched, she heard the man mutter weakly, “Or … you could do that. Astrals.”

     Pretty Song ate the food greedily, the taste novel after so long on just raw veggies and things she could find in the wilds, ignoring the conversation between the two men going on not far from her.

     “How long do you think she’s been on her own?”

     “Who knows. Astrals, Lib, she’s practically bones. And she trusts daemons more than us. That’s just … messed up.”

     “Yeah. Gonna get her killed someday if we don’t do something. Think you can talk her into coming into the base, Nyx? We could get Captain to send a transport to take her to Insomnia, or at worst take her with us during the next rotation. See if she’s got any family left.”

     “I can try. Hey, hey kiddo?”

     Pretty Song looked up and hummed in question. The blue-eyed man —what was his name again? She’d already forgotten if she’d heard it or not— smiled at her and this time she dared to smile back, “You wanna come inside? The ground is pretty hard and cold out there. You can have one of the beds, stay the night … we’ve got more food too, and the cook will be happy to make you something in the morning-.”

     A loud thump from further inside the human base, then loud footsteps and an angry voice, “Nyx? Nyx where are you? It’s your turn for watch you slacker! If you’re playing your flute again for the daemons like an Astral’s-d*mned idiot-!”

     Pretty Song didn’t wait to see who the owner of the angry voice was. She knew what angry voices led to. They led to being chased away from the dumpsters that she’d been looking for supper in and having things thrown at her for sleeping in the doorways of angry people. One time she’d gotten her arm hurt from a thrown thing so badly she hadn’t been able to play her flute for weeks. She wasn’t risking that again. Humans were trustworthy enough to risk that again, especially not loud ones.

     She fled into the darkness, ignoring the desperate shouts of the flute-player and the man with the food, ignoring the sudden shrieks and howls that went up as the spell of the songs were broken and some of the daemons flung themselves at the men only to recoil from the light and flee into the shadows with her. Pretty Song barely had the breath or presence of mind to hum as she ran so they wouldn’t get mad at her, and she didn’t stop until she had reached the Haven she had been walking toward before hearing the flute music. Huddled on the stones, Pretty Song tucked her knees to her chest and trembled. Frightened by the close call.

     It wasn’t until she fell asleep and woke up the next evening that she realized she was still wearing the flute man’s coat. She thought about returning it … but that would mean going near the yelling man again. No doubt all the other humans in the base would be looking for her now, and the coat was … so very warm.

     She ended up keeping the coat. For one, she didn’t dare go near the human base again to return it. For another … she … didn’t quite think that man would mind.

     He’d had very kind eyes. For a human.

[themagnificentsevenimagines]

Hi, just want to say, I love your blog so much!! Can I just like everything in one g? Anyway, my question is: have you ever considered a Teddy Q/Red Harvest scenario where Red will go wandering and/or hunting for a few days at a time, always returning to Rose Creek, and when he does come home, Teddy is just so happy to see him? Like, they spend the next few days (or however long) being fluffy and cute, and Emma is always calling them out for PDA? Luv ya

A/N: Hi! Thank you for loving my blog I know I’m always away and barely post anything besides reblogs so now that I’m staying safe through COVID-19 and self-isolating, I promise I will do more! As for your scenario... well, NOW I’m definitely considering it so thank you so much for cursing me with the feelz! <3

So this ended up being longer than intended, and sometimes I accidentally drive away from the original idea, but I always come back to it. Most of it is in Emma’s POV as she is clearly the ship’s number one fan.

~~~

Every so often, Sam and his crew will come back to Rose Creek for some much needed time away from the spotlight. And for those who are getting much older, -can’t say who or Billy might stab me- sometimes a nice bed and a place to call home is not such a bad thing. 

So every time their heroes return, the townspeople of Rose Creek always greet them with open arms and a freshly made meal. Sheriff Emma Cullen is always the first one to greet them and always brushes off her relief and excitement to see them by rolling her eyes. Next comes Teddy Q. And after the first half a dozen times it’s happened, Faraday now knows better than to say anything whenever Red Harvest’s mood suddenly brightens. 

The celebrations take place that night, as per usual. Chisolm and the rest of his companions get to sit down, have a smoke, and feel safe around people they trust with their lives and vice versa. Over the years, Emma had finally lost it every time she saw her dead husband’s avengers take up the hotel as their place of rest and was able to build houses around the town for each of them. At first, they didn’t want to accept these gifts knowing that Emma could easily use the homes to house any new townsfolk who deem Rose Creek a decent place to live. But not many people can say no to Emma Cullen and live to tell the tale, so before the night was up, Sam already found himself in his very own house for the first time in decades. And it’s safe to say the same for the rest of his traveling companions as well. 

But it didn’t take very long for things to start rearranging again. Emma immediately noticed how both Faraday and Goodnight’s houses were rarely ever used. And then, she noticed that Teddy hasn’t been living in his own house that he’s been gifted by his dead parents when he was barely old enough to be considered a man. Over the many times Sam and his men came back to Rose Creek from their travels and took shelter in their respective houses, slowly, Faraday’s house became what they would use for a barn and then Horne would use Goodnight’s house to store and skin any meat he and Red Harvest would catch. Eventually, Rose Creek had just transformed and claimed the house as the town’s main butcher shop and so Horne and Red Harvest made a little extra money they would be able to save and use on their travels with the others. 

Emma didn’t mind that a couple of the houses she had built weren’t being used with the original intention, she just wasn’t sure if she minded the fact that Teddy didn’t feel the need to tell her that something was going on between him and the young Comanche warrior Sam had dragged into their group. She already knew about Goodnight and Billy and then later on Faraday and Vasquez. Those needles were too easy to pick out of a haystack. But it wasn’t until their group of seven came back home more and more recently did she realize that Teddy was definitely a different young man compared to what he was like before Matthew was murdered. 

This time around, she watched more closely and listened more intently. After about a couple days of her town’s heroes relaxing and enjoying their time away from their traveling passion, Red Harvest begins to wander off. That’s nothing new, as the young Indian has always gone off on his own to hunt and camp out in the wilderness whenever they return to Rose Creek. Every once in awhile, Horne would go with him as the old tracker is always content in sporting a nice hunt. They, or sometimes just Red, would disappear for a couple of days but always come back without any worry of if Sam and the others have moved on. They wouldn’t, anyway. Sam and the others always wait until their entire group is whole again and ready to move on before taking off on their next adventure.

It did seem curious to Emma that Teddy has never offered to tag along on these hunts since he seems so keen on being around Red. Whenever the Indian left, she noticed that Teddy doesn’t look sad or heartbroken, but maybe that’s because he knows Red Harvest will always come back. And it’s not like she could casually bring it up in a conversation since it was clear to her that Teddy Q didn’t want her to know about his love life. It bothered her that Teddy didn’t trust her. They were like family after all. They’ve been through a lot together. Before his marriage to Emma, Matthew Cullen actually worked for Teddy’s parents in carpentry and always took the gentleman caller under his wing either for a late-night drink or fishing. It was safe to say Matthew was the closest thing Teddy had to a brother, and then later on Emma became his sister. After Matthew’s death, Teddy didn’t ever want to part from his brother’s widow and because of that, he traveled with her to recruit Sam Chisolm and the others. Because of Matthew, Teddy Q met Red Harvest.

So, with that thought in mind, Emma confronted Teddy about it, but in a more calming matter than she originally intended, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Teddy Q looked up from a small wood carving he was fiddling around with a small knife and smiled curiously, one eyebrow raised, “Okay? It’s just a wood carving, Emma. I do it all the time.”

“No, I meant you’re happy with someone,” Emma sighed at her friend’s gullible nature and waited for Teddy to piece the puzzles together. He watched her with confusion for a few moments before his face started to fall and turn pale. Emma couldn’t help but grin in delight to see him suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze. He should feel that way, considering he didn’t trust her with the truth, to begin with. And if that isn’t such a brotherly-sisterly thing to do, Emma wasn’t sure what was. 

“I’m glad you’re happy,” she repeats, reaching over to pinch his shoulder, “But the next time you try to hide something from me, I won’t be.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After that, Emma realized some sort of ice wall she didn’t realize was there was suddenly broken. When Red Harvest came back from his hunt, Teddy Q openly ran up to his horse and waited for the Indian to jump down to embrace him. Red’s face had never so much closely resembled the emotion of surprise before, but it came close today as Teddy hugged him in front of several watching eyes. 

“Ugh, I thought they were out of the honeymoon phase?” Faraday grumbles from the rocking chair beside Emma, and she doesn't need to turn around to know that Vasquez had hit the gambler upside the head, “Ow!”

Vas curses something low to him in Spanish and Faraday has learned enough of the language to know when to shut up. But sometimes he challenges the outlaw and takes whatever happens in stride, “I know they’re not married, V, ya don’t have to go defending Red’s honor,” that statement doesn’t shock Emma, since she’s seen Vas and Red Harvest together, and it always reminded her of Matthew and Teddy.

“Are you saying that Red’s honor would break if he were married?” Emma raises a dangerous eyebrow to both Faraday and Vasquez with her arms crossed in front of her, and suddenly both men shut up and are suddenly interested in Joshua’s deck of cards. Goodnight just howls in laughter.

Now that Emma’s aware of the relationship, she sees most things that she hadn’t noticed before. Like how sometimes Red comes back from wandering off with small gifts for Teddy. None of the gifts are expensive-looking or pretty in Faraday’s eyes, but most of the gifts were something Red Harvest made or found, like a shiny rock smoothed over by a relentless waterfall or a simple necklace he had made with twine and one of his arrowheads. That gift, in particular, is one Emma is familiar with since she never sees Teddy take it off.

She doesn’t ask, but she always wonders why Teddy doesn’t go with Red whenever Sam deems it’s time for the group to move on. He clearly wants to go, and Red clearly wants him to come with, but he never does. Emma selfconsciously wonders if she’s holding Teddy Q back from truly being happy, and she even tells him so once by saying that she can take care of Rose Creek by herself if he wanted to leave.

“I know that,” he answers without hesitation, and boy does that ever boost Emma’s confidence, “But about you? Can you take care of yourself?”

It didn’t sound like an insult. Nothing ever does coming out of Teddy’s mouth. And Emma knows she can stubbornly deny it if she wants to, but deep down she knew she wouldn’t. She made Teddy promise to never keep secrets from her, and she intended on keeping the same promise to him. Deep down, she knows she needs Teddy, and Teddy always reassures that he needs her, too. So she stopped asking, knowing that Teddy was a grown man and if he ever wants to leave Rose Creek and travel with Red and his companions, then he can make that decision for himself.

But they’re never away for long. Red Harvest always comes back along with the rest of their crew. At the very least, they only come back once a year, but mostly they come back more often than that. They need a place to always consider home and Emma will live out the rest of her life gifting them that. But now she’s even more determined to live even longer if it means that Red Harvest can come home to Teddy Q.  

[missing-marvel]

Give Me All Your Poison

Pairing: Eddie Brock/Reader

Warnings: vague mention of sex, otherwise nothing

A/N: This ones for all my emos out there, in light of news regarding a certain band. You’ll see. Wrote this all in one go, was up till like 3 am so here’s hoping it’s coherent

----

A lot of people think San Francisco will make them famous. The city’s music scene was like a Where’s Waldo of different bands, many of which were mediocre, and the rest downright bad. 

Yours was no different. Your lead singer tried to channel his ‘inner Armstrong’ as he put it, but your songs sounded more like if Blink 182 had been put through a blender. You only had like 5 original songs (none of which were particularly great) so most of time you played covers. Plus the band’s name changed every couple of months, which it made it kind of difficult for people to remember you. Good thing you weren’t doing it to get famous. 

It was an outlet for you. You didn’t even really care what you played, as long as it was loud. You didn’t sing, but you weren’t half bad with a guitar. As long as you had that, you were happy. 

-

You met Eddie through a friend. She was an online journalist and had a meeting with the famous (or infamous, to some) Eddie Brock. He worked for a different publication, but they were doing a collab piece. The ‘meeting’ was more of a social event, with quite a few people from both companies in attendance. You were there as moral support. 

“Not to sound like I’m hitting on you, but have I seen you before?” Eddie stood in front of you, hands half tucked in his pockets. 

You leaned back on the snack table behind you, giving him a chuckle. “I doubt it,” you said, pausing to sip your water. “Unless you’re into semi-trashy rock bands.”

“Can’t say that I am. Not a big fan of loud noise.” Eddie ran a hand through his hair. You couldn’t help but fixate on his voice, trying to figure out if he had some trace of an accent or just spoke like that. 

“So, you sing?” You almost didn’t register the question. 

“Huh? Oh no, I play guitar. Can’t sing to save my life. I mean, neither can our singer but it’s just for fun really.” If he were here, he’d be giving you hell for making fun of him. 

“Nothing wrong with that.” Eddie moved to stand next to you, also leaning on the table as you looked out across the room. “So what brings a guitarist to a meeting of journalists?” he asked. 

“My friend insisted I joined her, she’s over there,” you gestured in her direction. “She’s the one working with you on that new story or whatever.”

“Oh right, I talked to her. Seemed like an interesting person. Makes sense she’d have interesting friends.” 

You couldn’t suppress a grin. “Still not hitting on me, huh?” You side-eyed the reporter, watching his face go ever so slightly red. 

“I promise, I promise,” he said, hands held up in mock surrender. “Unless uh, you want me to, that is.” God was he always this awkward? You’d seen his old show, The Eddie Brock Report. He seemed confident and determined. Not at all like he was now. It was charming, really.

You smiled and looked down at your feet briefly, not really responding. Honestly, you didn’t think you’d mind even if he was hitting on you. He was definitely good looking. He had some of the softest lips you’d ever seen on a man and a vaguely scruffy look about him. 

Someone shouted Eddie’s name from across the room and waved him over. He turned to go but stopped before he got far. 

“Hey what’s your name?” 

You told him, silently thinking maybe this day wasn’t going to be such a waste after all.

“You playing any shows soon? Wouldn’t mind catching one.” He took a small step backwards, as if reluctant to leave the conversation. 

“I thought you didn’t like loud music?” You said, noting the smile that lit up his face. 

“I can make an exception.” 

“We’re playing this weekend at the Runaway’s Bar. Friday and Saturday, both at 9.” 

“Well, I’ll be there.” With that he turned to head across the room and you were alone once again. You decided to go find your friend and tell her about your little encounter. 

-

The band was just about finished setting up, and your eyes were scanning the room. The lights were dim and cast a blue and yellow haze on everything. It was hard to make out people’s faces. 

Not that you really expected Eddie to show up. He seemed like a pretty busy guy. He was probably just being nice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a hint of disappointment when you couldn’t find him.

-

Eddie showed up to the crowded bar at 9:15, worried he’d missed the beginning of your show. Luckily, you were just getting started. The lead singer was introducing the band, but Eddie wasn’t totally listening. He was looking for you and it only took him a second. You were dressed in a worn out leather jacket and dark red jeans. You weren’t too hard to spot. 

“Are you sure about this? If they’re anything like that damn neighbor—“ Venom’s voice in Eddie’s head only echoed his own concerns, but he cut him off anyway. 

“Relax V, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Eddie turned his head to the side slightly, trying not to look like he was talking to himself. One of these days he’d get one of those earpieces so he could pass it off as a phone call, but he never remembered. 

“You’re not even here for the music.” Venom’s tone wasn’t of disapproval but rather of curiosity. Still, Eddie wasn’t going to grace the symbiote with a response. 

The first song kicked in, a cover of some song from the 90’s, and Eddie found a seat on the side of the bar closer to the stage. 

Your attention was focused on your lead singer as the chorus started, watching his movements. He liked to move around the stage a lot and if you weren’t careful, he’d run straight into you. It had happened during a show before, and it wasn’t pretty. 

Your hands moved across the instrument with almost no input from your brain. You’d been playing these songs for years. They were pure muscle memory at this point. 

When you were convinced your singer would stay on his side of the stage for the time being, your gaze drifted back to the audience. Most of the bar’s occupants were engrossed either in their conversations or their glasses, but a decent handful were actually watching you. You made eye contact with a man at the bar and a smile broke out across your face. Eddie Brock had shown up after all. He nodded and raised his glass at you. 

There was a spring in your step for the rest of the song, and you had to resist the urge to just watch Eddie the whole time. 

-

The first song had gone okay. There was a dull buzz in Eddie’s head from the noise, but nothing unbearable yet. Venom was agitated, certainly, but also interested in the show. Too loud of a noise was painful or even lethal for the symbiote,  but he was still keen on experiencing this new aspect of human culture. Unfortunately, that was about to change. 

The next song was much heavier, not the mild grunge type of the first one. As it went on, each note became a sharp stab in Eddie’s head. He grimaced, gritting his teeth. He’s said he’d watch your show and dammit, he wanted to. He knew he’d look like a jerk if he left now, but it was looking like he wouldn’t have a choice. Much more of this and he’d be feeling some serious pain. He downed the rest of his drink in one go and reluctantly made his way to the exit. 

-

This song was a particular favorite of yours to play. It was energetic, bold, and most importantly, it was loud. Every note reverberated through your very bones. You couldn’t tell what was your heartbeat and what was the music. It was maybe the best feeling in the world. 

You looked back to the bar, wondering if Eddie was enjoying the song anywhere near as much as you were. Your heart sank, however, when you saw his seat empty. For a moment you thought maybe he’d just gone to the bathroom or something, until you glanced toward the door. Even under the aging lights, you could recognize him as he stepped outside, head down and a hand on his temple.

You knew you weren’t great, but were you that bad? Up until now, you’d never really cared what people thought of your band. You knew you shouldn’t be so upset, but you couldn’t help it. After all, what were the odds of a guy like Eddie really being interested in you. 

You continued the show, but your heart just wasn’t in it anymore. Hopefully by tomorrow you’d be over it.

-

The second the door shut behind him, Eddie felt like a weight had been lifted. Like his head had been stuck in a vice that only grew tighter the louder the music got. 

Despite the chilly night air, Eddie was sweating. He wiped his brow with a sleeve and let out a sigh. 

“Well that sucked.” Venom was nothing if not optimistic.

“Yeah I just... I feel like an ass. You think anyone saw us leave?” 

“By ‘anyone’ you clearly mean—“ Venom didn’t need to finish the sentence for Eddie to get the point. 

“Who am I kidding, of course they saw us.” Eddie rubbed his hands together for warmth as he began walking. The music was still faintly audible, sending another stab of guilt through him. 

“That’s too bad. I quite liked (Y/N).” Venom set to work keeping Eddie warm. Perks of having an alien live inside of you.

“Yeah so did I, bud. So did I...” Eddie trailed off, the start of an idea forming in his head. He was giving up too easily. You had another show tomorrow night, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get to see it. 

-

You’d taken a cab home pretty quick after the show. You weren’t in the mood to socialize. Your drummer had noticed and tried to ask you what was wrong, but you just shrugged her off. You said it was nothing and you’d see them all tomorrow night. 

——

You were feeling a little better by the time the show rolled around on Saturday. You didn’t want to let yourself dwell on things that you couldn’t fix. What was the point? So you decided tonight was going to be an even better show. All you had to do was let the music take over and it would be like all this Eddie business had never happened.

But you were still at a loss. He’d seemed genuinely interested, hadn’t he? Why else would he have shown up in the first place? And he acted like a pretty nice guy too. You just didn’t know what you did wrong.

By the time you got to the third song, your lead announced you’d be doing something different tonight. 

“Due to a recent announcement, we have a special cover we want to perform for you tonight,” he said. This was all planned, of course. While this kind of song may not be everyone’s cup of tea, you couldn’t not celebrate the reunion of a band that had broken up in 2013. 

The opening of the song brought back memories of your punk days. You were still unashamedly a My Chemical Romance fan, contrary to what people might assume when they met you. 

Your singer was no Gerard Way, but a good song was a good song. 

“I wouldn't front the scene if you paid me

I'm just the way that the doctor made me”

You noted a few surprised faces in the crowd. The song was a little different than your usual set. You couldn’t care though. You rode the nostalgia like your life depended on it. 

“Love is the red, the rose on your coffin door

What's life like, bleeding on the floor?

The floor, the floor”

You almost didn’t see him. He was a little further from the stage than last night, but it was definitely him. Did he feel bad about last night? Was he just going to walk out again? 

“You'll never make me leave

I wear this on my sleeve

Give me a reason to believe”

Eddie waved at you and a confused look crossed your face. It was almost enough to make you trip up the notes. Your drummer side-eyed you and you just tried to nod that you were fine, but you could tell she didn’t believe you. She tried to see who you’d been looking at but had no such luck. You made an effort to keep an eye on Eddie this time, although you tried not to make it obvious. 

“So, give me all your poison and give me all your pills

And give me all your hopeless hearts and make me ill”

Eddie couldn’t believe it was working. He couldn’t make out most of the words, but he wasn’t in pain this time. 

Before the show today, he’d gotten himself some industrial-strength earplugs. He could certainly still feel the vibrations of the music, but with none of the stabbing pain of the previous night. 

He just hoped you weren’t upset with him.  He really wanted to talk to you after the show, but for now he could enjoy watching. The way your hands danced over the strings, the way the sweat glistened off your forehead, even the way you tapped your foot to the beat, it was mesmerizing. He could see just how deep you’d sunk into the song, and he admired it. 

While the song wasn’t Eddie’s usual type of jam, he had to admit it wasn’t half bad. What he could of hear of it, at least. 

“You're running after something that you'll never kill

If this is what you want, then fire at will”

You didn’t look at Eddie again for the rest of the song. As the final note played, you realized how heavily you were breathing and your heart was pounding in your chest. You got a slightly heartier-than-usual applause from the audience and you couldn’t help but let your attention drift back to Eddie. 

He hadn’t moved this time. He was still there, sleeves pushed up, clapping with the others. You thought you caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his arm. 

The rest of the show went smoothly. The later it got, though, the more antsy you became. Eddie was still there every time you checked, giving you that dorky smile whenever you made eye contact. You’d never wanted a show to end more than you did at that very moment. 

You were packing up your gear before your singer had even finished saying goodnight. You set your stuff aside and told the band you’d be right back. All but sprinting off the stage, you made a beeline for where you’d seen Eddie. 

Now that you were actually on the floor, it was a lot harder to find him. At one point you thought you saw him, but then he was lost in the crowd. Since when are there this many people here? Just when you’d stopped to look around, you were startled by a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, great show!” Eddie didn’t realize he was shouting. Not that the bar was all that quiet anyway. He was just happy you came to talk to him. Well, he could see you talking to him, anyway, but no sound came out of your mouth. “What?” he asked, still just a little too loudly. 

You noticed he had earplugs in and laughed. Eddie was caught off guard by it. This wasn’t like when you had laughed the other day. No, now you were truly happy, and it made all the difference. He had the sudden feeling that he’d do just about anything to see you laugh like that again. 

“Take out the earplugs!” You all but yelled, gesturing at your own ears. Eddie let out a soft ‘oh’ and removed the earplugs. 

“Yeah that’s much better,” he said, his volume returned to normal. 

“You’re actually here,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning back just a bit. 

“Yeah, I am,” Eddie suddenly couldn’t make eye contact with you, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck ashamedly. “Look I’m sorry about last night. Like I said, I have a bit of a hearing problem and it was, well, loud...” 

Your relief was clear by the way your expression changed. So that was the only reason he left. You felt immeasurably dumb for jumping to all sorts of other conclusions. 

“That makes a lot more sense now. I kinda— we’ll it’s funny really— I sort of started assuming you didn’t like it o-or, I don’t know, didn’t like me. Hilarious, right?” You chuckled nervously and a concerned look briefly crossed Eddie’s face.

“What? Of course not! God I felt like such a jerk for leaving. I was worried you wouldn’t even want to talk to me tonight!” He suddenly felt really bad for making you worry. Now would be a good time to go back to laughing at him. 

Now was probably the only chance you would have to keep this guy around and you’d be damned if you didn’t take it. 

“Hey, do you wanna stick around for a bit? Here, I mean? Now?” Real smooth, you thought. 

“Yeah, but what about your band?” He asked, gesturing at your bandmates glaring at you impatiently from the side of the stage. 

“Oh, right!” You’d actually forgotten about them for just a moment. “I just have to help them pack up. They’ll probably want to stick around for a drink anyway. I’ll be right back!” You ran back towards the stage, looking back at Eddie as you went.  

“No problem, I’ll save you a seat!” he called after you. Eddie smiled and your heart melted just a little bit. God, he was a beautiful mess of a man. You had a good feeling about him. 

“I have a good feeling about this,” Venom rumbled and Eddie just hummed in agreement. 

-

You actually stuck around until almost closing time, which was a rare event for you. The more time you’d spent talking with Eddie, the less you wanted to leave. Your band came and found you when they were all ready to go home, but you really didn’t want to. 

“Oh,” you said, not even realizing what time it was. “I guess it is late, isn’t it...” 

Your band looked between you and Eddie, your drummer making eye contact with him specifically. She gave him a look, arching an eyebrow as if to say, “Well, are you going to do anything?” 

“Don’t let them leave, Eddie.” Venom was as reluctant to part ways as you were. Between him and your slightly intimidating drummer, Eddie more than got the message. 

“I can take you home if you want. I haven’t been drinking at all so I’m good to drive.” He felt awkward in front of your band, but they were all silently supporting him. They were your good friends and if you were happy, so were they. 

“Oh! Yeah, that would be great! You have a car?” You tried not to sound too eager. 

“I have a bike, actually.” Eddie realized he didn’t have a helmet for you. He never wore one because, well, he didn’t need one. Venom would protect him should they get in an accident. He’ll just have to drive extra careful. 

“Great! Hey I’ll see all you guys later, okay?” You waved to your band mates who promptly took off, sending a chorus of ‘goodnights’ your way. If you didn’t know better, you’d say your drummer winked at you as she left. 

-

You hadn’t been on a motorcycle in a long time. It was a lot of fun. Not to mention, you got to hold tightly onto Eddie the whole time. You could feel his warmth even through his jacket and you had to resist the urge to squeeze him any tighter. 

Eddie could not have imagined things going literally any better. He was fully prepared for you to ignore or even yell at him after last night yet here you were, arms wrapped right around his waist on the way to your apartment.

He hadn’t seen anyone since Anne, what with the whole symbiote situation and all, and he’d started to think maybe he never would. ‘Three’s a crowd’ and all that. But he really liked you, despite having only known you for a night (well, a little longer than that). Hell, even Venom liked you, which he’d made perfectly clear. 

When he pulled up in front of your apartment, Eddie really didn’t want to say goodnight. However, he wasn’t going to suggest anything else unless you did first. He had manners. 

The two of you got off the bike and you shivered a bit at the sudden lack of body heat. “I’m really glad you came back tonight, Eddie.” You were still standing quite close together, enough that you could see the bits of green in his otherwise blue eyes.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did too.” He didn’t know what else to say. You were so close to him, he could  feel your breath and every part of his brain was telling him to stay with you, to ask if you wanted him to. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of to keep himself from talking. 

The feeling of Eddie’s warm hands on your face caught you off guard, but you had no intention of stopping him. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss, as if unsure of how you’d react. Assuaging his fears, you wrapped your wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss further. He let out a hum at the response, suddenly more confident in his actions. 

You pulled away only when you finally needed air, your arms still wrapped tightly around Eddie. “You know... if you want, you could stay the night.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but that’s all you needed. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” Eddie’s voice was husky, and for just a moment, almost imperceptibly, it sounded like two voices mixed together. You paid no attention to it, however. 

You had other things on your mind. 

[lilibetts]

The E(X) Files

S1E01: Descent Into Eldervair

“Welcome to Eldervair Court, please enter your code now,” the pleasant, computerized female voice prompted. Betty groaned, because of course she had stopped the white Toyota Highlander too far away to reach the keypad. In her defense, this car was given to her by the Bureau as a part of her cover and she'd only been driving it since this afternoon. The thought of the mountains of paperwork she'd have to fill out if she so much as scratched its paint filled her with dread.

“Please enter your code now,” the recording prompted again. Was it her imagination or did the recording sound exasperated? Betty cracked the driver's side door open a fraction and leaned through the window to punch in the numbers she had memorized the night before.

“Please enter your co-- Welcome home, Mrs. Fletcher.”

“I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that, do you, Snookums?” The sardonic male voice piped up from the passenger seat.  

Betty breathed through her nose, silently counting down from ten before she turned to glare at her pretend husband for the next few weeks. Agent Forsythe Pendleton Jones (“the third, unless you have a daddy or necrophilia kink”), aka Jughead, was partially slouched in the seat.  He no longer sported his ever-present crown beanie, though Betty wouldn't put it past him to have it stashed in a box somewhere. For someone who had his head covered most of the time, his hair looked criminally good.

And Betty had a right to complain- the humidity had made her hair wavy and frizzy. Inherit her mother's 'great hair' genes, she did not.

“Speak for yourself, Buttercup.”

Jughead wasn't Betty's usual partner, but Kevin was taking a well-deserved vacation. (His reaction, when he found out Jughead and Betty would be partners? “Oh dear god, there'll be no self-restraint there. None.”). Jughead didn't have a usual partner; he'd been heading up the X-Files division on his own in his tiny basement office.

She wasn't sure if she'd been partnered with Jughead because she was one of the few agents who didn't make fun of him, either behind his back or right to his face, or because her superiors were tired of her go-getter personality and quick close rate on cases.  Or they had decided 'who better to pretend to be husband and wife than two agents who used to be married to one other?'

Barely sparing a glance at her ex-husband fidgeting in his seat, Betty moved the gearshift back into 'Drive' and steered the vehicle through the now open gates.

Eldervair Court was a massive, walled community in upstate New York— built into a partially cleared section of Fox Forest. As they began to make their way down the winding drive, the multitude of trees gave attractive cover, but nearly blocked out the sky entirely. Given that the weather that day was overcast with gray skies, Betty was immediately unsettled by how isolated she already felt from the world beyond the walls.

The trees faded away just enough to reveal rather enormous but attractive red-brick houses, each on top of a sloping grass hill, with stone steps and pathway leading to the front door. Georgian architecture, Betty thought. Maybe revival, maybe original. Just how old was this community? They hadn't been able to figure out when Eldervair Court was incepted.

The houses were all completely identical; the lawns perfectly manicured with attractive rows of rose bushes. Not a single speck of what might be termed 'character' could be found. They looked, for lack of a better word, perfect.

It gave Betty war flashbacks to her own childhood.

“These aren't houses,” Jughead muttered, right leg jiggling anxiously as he stared out the window. “These are mini-mansions.”

Betty frowned, the surrealism getting to her. “Yeah, I wouldn't say it's all very Stepford Wives, but...”

“More David Lynch's Blue Velvet meets Tim Burton?”

“Something like that.”

As she turned into the driveway, Betty spotted an expertly coiffed redhead in a black sleeveless blouse and red palazzo trousers standing up on the porch with a ruby-red grin on her face. Clearly she was the welcoming committee.

“Showtime,” Betty muttered as she plastered on the smile she'd learned from Alice Smith Cooper.

“It's almost like meeting your mother all over again,” Jughead groused under his breath, eyes trained on the woman on their new porch. Betty didn't even dignify that with a glare.

As they exited the SUV, the moving truck with two other agents backed up into the space next to them. The weather here was still warm for late September, so Betty had dressed semi-casually according to a popular Fall Fashion Pinterest board and Jughead wore a nice pair of new black trousers and a blue sweater that did fantastic things for his eyes.

(She'd given him that sweater several Christmases ago.)

The redhead sauntered up to them on towering red stilettos. “Bonsoir, Fletchers!” She trilled. Now that they were closer, Betty could make out the shape of the woman's broach— it was a spider.

"'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Spider to the Fly.

She was met at the top of the driveway by a petite pink-haired woman, this one dressed in all black and floral platform ankle boots. Once she struck the perfect couples pose, the redhead addressed Betty and Jughead: “Welcome to Eldervair Court, we're the Topaz-Blossoms and yes, we're domesticated lesbians.”

“Cheryl,” the pink-haired woman scolded lightly, the soft smile on her face telling Betty she was used to her wife's dramatics.

“Sorry TT, I didn't mean to engage in bisexual erasure. 'Domesticated lesbians' just has a better ring to it. Forgive me, mon amour?” Their noses rubbed together in an Eskimo kiss before Cheryl remembered her new neighbors existed. “As you can see, EC is a progressive, open-minded community, as long as you keep your lawn up to regulations!”

Sensing that Jughead was about to make a sarcastic comment, Betty beat him to the punch. “That's wonderful! I'm Juliet and this is my husband, Holden,” she introduced them, patting a hand on Jughead's chest to warn him to watch his mouth.

And also sell that they were definitely a married couple, not a pair of divorced FBI Agents. Nothing to see here, let's move on.

“I'm Toni,” Pink Hair said with a small wave. “Cheryl and I live two doors down, next to the Andrews'.”

Cheryl clapped her hands. “Now that we've dispensed with the niceties, since you two took your sweet time arriving, we're going to have to hurry if you're going to make the six o'clock cutoff.”

“Cutoff?” Jughead frowned. Glancing down at her phone, Betty saw it was 4:51.

“The six o'clock cutoff? All move-ins must be completed by 6 PM. It's in the R&Rs.” Cheryl intoned, as if that ought to have been obvious.

Toni at least had the grace to look regretful. “Yeah, you're really going to need to brush up on the Rules & Regulations. They're the price we pay to keep this community successful.”

“We'll definitely read it through carefully,” Betty promised. “It's just been so busy lately, what with the move and all...”

Cheryl had already whipped out her phone and her thumbs flew over the screen. “I've conscripted some of your new neighbors into helping with the unload. With my superior delegating skills, we'll have you moved in in no time at all!” With a flip of her hair over one shoulder, she was off, barking out orders at the people crossing the street towards them; Toni made a beeline for the moving van.

Betty and Jughead shared a look before they made their way to the front door. In front of the columns on either side of the porch sat two statues, their grotesque features seeming to leer at her. Gargoyles. They were gargoyles. A shiver made its way down her spine.  Keep it together, Betty, she told herself as she slid the key they'd been sent into the lock.

From the entryway, the view of the home was magnificent, there was no other word for it: high ceilings, paneled walling, and tall windows that let in plenty of light. There was a sweeping staircase and the hardwood floors looked to be dark maple and wide planked.  Jughead curled a proprietary arm around her back, resting his hand on her hip.

“Now, Lambchop, what do you think? Is this the place for us or what?”

They'd lived in a tiny two-bedroom in Queens, a paradise before Jughead's undercover gang assignment destroyed them from afar.

“It's right out of a dream, Bugaboo.”

Tap-tap-tap-tap. Shaking off her sudden melancholy, Betty turned at the sound of heels on hardwood on to face Cheryl's approach. “This place is downright immaculate,” she pretended to gush. “I would love to send the previous owners a Thank You note.”

Cheryl made a disinterested noise. “Whatever suits your sensibilities, Juliet dear. You can give it to me and I'll send it on to them,” she said with eyes downcast, pretending to study a scuff mark on the floor.

No, you certainly won't, Betty thought with a vicious stab of satisfaction at catching someone in a clear lie. Because Dilton Doiley was dead and his wife, Ethel, had gone missing.

A steady stream of people with boxes started coming through the open door. In the distance, Betty could see their undercover movers unloading the first of their carefully selected furniture. Now, there was a job: join the FBI and use your interior design degree to stage undercover agents' homes to help sell their cover.

“So,” Cheryl carefully enunciated. “What is it that you do?”

“Oh, I'm the social media manager for an event planning company in the city and Hols here is working on his third novel.” Betty beamed with pride at her pretend husband's achievements. Thanks to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited, it was disturbingly easy to backstop Holden Fletcher's novelist career in such a way that it was believable that the couple could afford to live in Eldervair Court.

The Bureau hired out-of-work English Majors and MFA degree-holders to do things like this, too.

Cheryl made another noise, clearly not impressed by what it is that they do.

That's when it got a bit weird. A redheaded man, who had been introduced to them as 'Archiekins' by his immaculate wife in pearls and a dark plum sheath dress, shouted out the time.

“5:40!”

The stream of neighbors turned into frenzied rapids. Before they knew it, all the boxes were inside, as well as the furniture, if not in the exact room they belonged. By 5:58, everyone was exiting the house with words of welcome and half-formed plans to have dinner tomorrow night.

“We'll leave you to it. Toodles, Neighbors!” And with that, Cheryl closed the door with a flourish behind her.

“Dear god,” Betty groaned, shoulders slumping.

“Yeah, nothing weird going on here at all,” muttered Jughead before he turned away from the front door. “Hold on, you didn't let me carry you over the threshold—“

Betty simply rolled her eyes and made her way toward the kitchen. They'd brought two coolers full of food to last them until they could go grocery shopping tomorrow. The Bureau had only intended to give them one, but Betty had renegotiated the second, knowing what kind of appetite Jughead had. She wanted to get the perishables into the fridge before it was too late.

She stopped short when she caught sight of the two items on the granite countertop. “Ju-” she caught herself in time. “Sweetie, come see what our neighbors left us!” she called out.

In less than two seconds she felt the heat of him at her back. “Well, wasn't that nice of them?”

Next to the enormous, spiral-bound binder that proclaimed 'Eldervair Court: Rules and Regulations' on the cover, was an ivory box with two detailed black-and-white creatures stenciled onto it. Inside the ornate red frame, written in Gothic lettering were the words:

Gryphons & Gargoyles

[trickshxt]

SHITTY AUs ABSOLUTELY NO ONE ASKED FOR

Star Wars AU

Their story isn’t unique; orphaned at a young age, left to the streets in a backwater city on a backwater planet. The Barton brothers had each other, though, and what they couldn’t earn they begged for and what they couldn’t beg they stole. Notorious thieves and con artists, the boys were particularly known for their one unique skill: their near perfect, never missing aim. This ability is what got them the invite to join a local, traveling troupe of entertainers with a hand in minor smuggling. They accepted and likely would have grown up there if the First Order hadn’t come along...

For you see, their world was far, far more valuable mined than left standing. A rich depository of metals made the world attractive to the First Order. It also made it a target for fighting. Their cities became razed. Their skies warzones. And when a final strike was ordered the few left weren’t surprised.

In the panic of getting off world, however, resources were scarce. And with the strike looming Barney made a deal with their mentor: their safety for his service to his guild. Jacques took the deal. What he didn’t say? The boy’s safety didn’t guarantee they’d stay together.

Barney watched as Clint was evacuated on another star cruiser; promising to find him. The two not knowing when they would see the other again.

From then on, Barney worked as a thief, a distraction, a look out; growing into a smuggler and mercenary with a minor crew under the leader of a man known best as the Swordsman. Barney’s aim only improved, earning him a wicked reputation as a sniper. His ability to be forgotten quickly in a crowd - despite his bright red hair - also made him the ideal runner and smuggler of messages.

Barney wanted more from life. And perhaps he would have gotten it, if the Swordsman hadn’t taken on a job he couldn’t handle. When the job went wrong, it was Barney who paid the price. Struck down by a mercenary as part of the threat. The attack killed Barney out right. Unfortunately, peace was not for Barney...

Barney’s skills had caught the attention of a curious individual known only as Annihilus. A shadow figure with deep pockets, little was known about the man. But when Barney’s body disappeared and the Swordsman’s bounty was called off? Well. Few thought much of it.

Waking on a cold slab, Barney knew something was different. His body felt odd. Static crackled under his skin. And he knew, just knew, he shouldn’t be back. Yet he was. And it was his new employer’s ‘gift’ to him that would come to be his bane. Annihilus’ love for dead cultures - specifically the Xandarian Novas and Jedi - made him a bit of collector of the odd and unusual. Lost medical technology from the Novas themselves had been implanted in Barney. Enough to bring him back with nothing but a shred of life, enough to keep him alive, and enough to undo it all with one snap of Annihilus’ fingers...

These days, Barney works directly for Annihilus, under the name Red. While he heals faster than any normal human, it is his human nature that Annihilus finds useful. Often sent on runs to steal, resell, and acquire rare artifacts, Barney particularly funnels favors and objects for the express intent of gathering Nova artifacts for Annihilus. Of particular interest? The Nova Prime armor. While rarely starting a fight or commotion, Barney will act ruthlessly if need be.

Someday, someday he longs to be free from Annihilus’ debt. And maybe, hopefully, find out where his brother ended up...

IMPORTANT NOTES

This verse is linked to @golddome‘s Star Wars AU but isn’t limited to it! No need to know anything about Novas other than they’re an alien race with bad ass warriors that are wiped out and long gone.

Barney doesn’t just deal with Xandarian, Nova, and Jedi artifacts though! He also deals in Mandalorian pieces as well as various other cultures. We’re flexible! And if we get something wrong we’re open to nice constructive criticism. I definitely haven’t read everything so please be gentle...

BONUS

BONUS: Barney’s large, mud colored cowl is big enough to double as: a tunic with a hood big enough to cover his face, a pillow, a blanket, and a shelter. He has used it as all of those, and more, and could tell you what ever stain on it is from.

EXTRA BONUS: While the tech in Barney heals him quickly from stabbings, slashings, blasts, poisons, and more, it doesn’t always heal him up cleanly. He is littered in scars. Some that he doesn’t even remember getting. The tech does respond to specific things, though the controls are only really understood by Annihilus, who has never once handed full control over to anyone. (Though he will give the frequency to bounty hunters when he has to reel his smuggler back in.)

EXTRA EXTRA BONUS: Barney has tried NUMEROUS times to leave Annihilus’ service. Each time, he’s found thanks to tracking inherent in the tech. Annihilus has set bounties on Barney numerous times, always with the order to bring him back in ALIVE, no exceptions. And Annihilus’ pockets are deep enough, reputation fierce enough that you bet no one dares to cross him...

EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA BONUS: Barney is an OK pilot, but not a GREAT one. Which is why his ship is covered in dings from things, places, and people he’s run into.

EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA BONUS: Barney’s aim is unnatural. His brother’s, however? Was even more so. Are the Barton brothers force sensitive? Perhaps. But if they are Barney will never know.

VERSE TAG

v: I would kill the stars themselves ; if it weren’t but for you ; still out there among them — ( Star Wars AU )

[firebirdsdaughter]

Hey…

… Hey, wireless?

F YOU.

Okay. Thank god for common sense. I accidentally lost my post bc my wireless conked out.

HOWEVER!

I was wise, and copied the contents. so we have lost nothing but the tags. Which weren’t that interesting any way.

So here we go!

In no order: (also, I apologise for any typos my fingers decided they wanted to type a mile a minute… DX)

Aw, Naohisa (still thinking I’m spelling his name wrong) is giving them science lessons…

That Melto loves and Asuna doesn’t get… XD It’s okay Asuna, I’m not sure I understand, either.

Melto’s so starry-eyed, gods love him. XD

ASUNA.

Aw, Tyramigo. It’s okay, Melto, he doesn’t mean it meanly. ^^

They’re really cute though. XD

I guess Kou got the idea to see the world in his head from watching tv…

But I feel like there are better places to get into the river than jumping over this railing…

THAT LITTLE BLINK BEFORE HE SAYS ‘209’ XD

He’s clearly got no idea why that’s shocking. ^^

UI DON’T JUST ACCEPT THIS! DX

I guess she decided that she couldn’t really tell a 209 year old what to do…

This episode officially made me conclude that Ui and Touwa are the smols. They’re the youngest of the siblings. Kou is next, then Melto and Asuna are like… Twins who are slightly older than him. No one can agree which one of them is older. Banba is obviously the eldest and stuck managing them. Maybe until Gold gets here. Unless he’ll have to manage Gold, too.

Touwa’s fast, but Banba outweighs him… A for effort, though, sweetie. <3

To continue reading foreshadowing in everything… I wonder if Touwa commenting he doesn’t think Banba can lose in one v one means we’re eventually going to see just that happen.

Or, potentially, maybe Banba did once lose to someone in one v one?

Or both?

Touwa, honey, I just want you to know I very much support the concept of you and the others just tackling your brother. Like Merry and Pippin w/ Boromir. Just jump him. He could use the hugs.

Banba gazes majestically off into the distance as he prepares to be angsty.

Banba: ‘People will always betray you.’

Me: ‘Who did this to you? SHOW ME SO I CAN STAB THEM W/ THIS FORK TEN MILLION TIMES???’

I so want whoever hurt him like this to be an absolute dickwad and I want to see them get their asses kicked, esp by some truly pissed off little sibs.

By Banba, too, absolutely. But I would kill for an ep where the kids find out what this person did and go on a roaring rampage of protectiveness for their big brother. TT^TT DX

Touwa definitely doesn’t know what happened… DX I think he knew Banba was distrusting towards others and very much a loner, but he looks so sad and confused that I don’t think he knew it went this deep…

I wanna hug my little green gremlin son, too! DX I WANNA HUG ALL OF THEM!

Eh. I’m sure she’s fine.

Mook suit actors, the unsung heroes of any and all Sentai. XD

Hey, Green final slash! And Black again. ^^

XD Touwa. Banba’s just like ‘irritated growl.’ ^^

I’m… Pretty sure Ui just insulted this guy…?

Okay, here’s the thing. I don’t see nobody glowing green and losing life force. So… Did they just decide not to put that effect in, or… Or did the Minusaur actually come from someone else?

Like… Tall Cheese?

Ahem. Sorry. I mean Fita.

Though she’s not glowing either… Augh. I dunno what I’m saying.

Why would they chain up Ui, but not Kou?

Well done, Kou. ^^ Boy’s clever is a fight. XD

… What the heck was that boise and dramatic shot of her face? Where they just trying to remind us she’s an idol? I think it happened when the brothers find her, too… Does it mean something? Hmm… I dunno.

Kou’s reaction is hilarious, though.

Ui’s neck is gonna hurt later… DX

Okay, but later the brothers wake her up just fine? I guess the effects were only temporary… That’s probably why they chained them up, so that they couldn’t escape even when they woke up.

And… Kou’s sense ends here. Why didn’t you call the others, you dork? XD

Hmm… I miss Tankjoh, but I kinda like the new guy’s music…

I think he’s meant to be a drastically different personality. Where Tankjoh was surly and serious, this guy is bombastic and childish.

These are the most badass children I have ever seen.

Actually, that’s not true, but, they’re up there.

I’m wonder if it’s an effect of the brainwashing.

I love that girl in the lavender sweatshirt who just goes for the spinning kick. XD

Touwa probably bothered Banba until he agreed to bring her here. XD Which may have been easier bc Banba probably didn’t want to have to deal w/ her…

Melto thinking ‘oh, crap, she’s pretentious, the only way we’re gonna get her to talk is… *sigh* okay, someone has to take this bullet, it might as well be me…’

Honestly, though, I think the only other person who would possibly be willing to do that is Touwa, and probably not. Asuna wasn’t taking well to getting ordered around, and Banba would never kneel to anyone (… Well… Actually, no comment). My interpretation is that Melto realises she’s rather high and mighty, and that she’ll respond to an act of 'reverence’ like that, and he knows no one else in the room is gonna be willing to do it w/out complaining. So he just steps in to save them all the trouble. Mom friend to the rescue.

Honestly, it’s very sensible of him. ^^

I need to write more w/ Melto… DX

Banba is the back modelling. Bc boy can’t be in a single scene where he isn’t posing in some way at every opportunity.

XD I WAS RIGHT. ^^

Sorry Short Cheese, Banba doesn’t care if you think he has manners (I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to ditch her in the forest earlier XD). Touwa looks slightly miffed, but I think he’s less effected by it coming from you. The only one you’re offending is Asuna. And, actually, I’d advise against that.

Hey, isn’t Asuna also technically a noble?

Asuna’s like ‘First off, how dare you? Second, how dare you? And third… How dare you?’

XD This is even funnier bc of one of my casual ships. ^^

Melto hates this so much, but he’s willing to do it to find out what’s happening. XD Poor baby.

Oh, okay. So the mind control is just his thing.

This is so vague I can’t trust it… I mean, I guess most of it could be on the level, but… Hm. I gotta wonder if they were allowed to escape… And what exactly he’s got on them to have them still be doing this? (Bc next ep pretty much reveals they’re trying to trick the team) Is Short Cheese mind controlled? Is Tall Cheese? They repeat her ‘I would risk my own life to save her’ twice this ep, so I’m guessing Tall Cheese/little sister’s life is still in danger somehow…? I dunno. I guess we’ll learn this weekend.

So… What, you can just teleport? Why didn’t you do that when you were running before? SUSPICIOUS?

Also, I’m not sure I trust these flashbacks either, bc they’re from Short Cheese’s point of view, and next ep indicates she wasn’t being on the level w/ the team. I mean, she’s holding that orange rock in a bottle… But… Did it come from her planet? Is it something they stole from the Druidons? Or is there a part of this story that was left out (actually, that much is obvious bc Short Cheese didn’t mention the rock at all), where the Druidon gave it to her? Too many variables, even if I didn’t know they were up to something.

I should note that it’s pretty obvious they’re not actually evil and are being forced into doing this. They’re only here as guest stars and they’re being promoted as being idols (exhibit A, the abrupt song sequence coming up), so I HIGHLY doubt they’re gonna pull out the rug and make them outright evil.

And, anyway, the next ep preview practically confirms that. XD

Girl in the lavender sweatshirt is ready to kill something, I swear.

I also like the boy in the burgundy and white sweatshirt. XD He’s paying such good attention. ^^

Asuna’s offended, Melto’s somewhere else thinking about Wyzul, Banba doesn’t care and Touwa’s in. XD

Touwa clearly here thinking ‘dear god, I know I never want to go through that… O_o’

Honey, I am so sorry, but I make no promises. DX

That’s a very direct question, but no less then I’d expect from Banba. Though also… Kinda odd? What are you trying to establish here, sweetie? Why are you asking this?

This line is very important, clearly. They repeat it twice. Pretty sure it’s to make us understand that whatever is going on next ep, it’s bc the sisters are trying to protect each other. Like I said, I’m presuming that Tall Cheese is actually still in danger somehow.

WHAT WAS HE TRYING TO ESTABLISH W/ THAT QUESTION? And then he just accepts her answer? I’m confused…

I really can’t tell if he’s finding something odd w/ this, or if he’s accepting it bc he’s sympathising w/ her… DX Tatsuya is being unreadable too well! DX

And then she… Just starts singing? Like, I love this show, but… There could’ve been a better lead up to that.

Though I do love Naohisa reacting to the lights. XD

So… Was this just a random musical interlude, or… Was she doing something? I guess it was so that Kou could hear it and make the connection, but the execution could have gone a little better.

Banba takes that extra moment to pose. XD

Untransformed fight! ^^

I love how Banba just delays transforming to take off. :D

I needed to use a new emoticon.

Kou’s little ‘Ah!’ and pointing when the kids show up! XD

Girl in the lavender sweatshirt is going to cut something.

See, this is an effective use of the singing.

Uh… What. Melto, what does that… Whatever. Sentai logic.

Now he says ‘Okay, Tyra!’ instead of just ‘Tyra!’

SOMEONE TEACH HIM TOUWA AND BANBA’S NAMES!

Banba would be SO AWKWARD. XD

Oh, NOW you transform. XD Well, we wouldn’t have had that beautiful weapon toss if you had before. ^^

See? We bring up the line again, and there’s a weird sound cue? Does it mean anything?

Touwa sees the other smollest sib and must immediately go help her. XD

I do like the improve mobility of this mech. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adored the clusterfuck of orbs that was the Kyuranger mecha, but… It’s nice to seem something more dynamic once in a while?

Kudos the new suit actor, too. Whose name still escapes me… DX

Convenient train tracks. XD Sentai logic.

Actually, just Toku logic.

I love MirNeedle and his honk and his spinning attack. XD

Could you be more tsundere in one sentence???

Touwa’s just like ‘stages of realising your brother is a tsundere, stage 3: acceptance’

Kou doesn’t mind, though. XD

I do think Banba is starting to kind of like the trio, but boy is very damaged and the concept scares him, so he’s trying to fight it as much as possible, even though it’s just kind of a slight, vague fondness at this point.

Like, eventually, he’s going to end up adopting them, it’s going to happen, he’s going to have at least four younger sibs, actually five. But we’re not there quite yet.

I would love a ‘we’re not each other’s only family anymore’ sort of thing from the brothers. Or maybe one of the trio telling them that. XD

One day, a Mosasaurus will be in that empty spot, I bet.

Melto and Banba on the same wavelength. ^^

So… The Minusaur host is dead now?

This is cute, but I already know there’s more to this.

XD Oh, Banba. You’re starting to like them, I know you are. You’re not getting out of this. Though I do get why you really don’t want that to happen.

Though I do think his getting emotional next week is a partially due to it. ^^ Like, yes, there’s the fact that he’s mad at Kou for being too trusting, and that it might be dangerous for all of them/earth, but… I dunno. Probably overthinking.

But I’m gonna wax on about that shot in the preview later, don’t worry. XD

Or worry, if you don’t want to hear my rambling. In… Which case why would you even be reading this.

Melto on point again. XD I really need to write more w/ you… DX

Though on the other hand, I guess there’s a possibility that she could have read it in Naohisa’s papers at the house, or he said it to her. But she didn’t seem interested in the research, and they could just ask Naohisa if he mentioned it.

Hm… Maybe they’re waiting to update the ED until Gold gets here.

Why does Kou have the inflation Soul activated?

… That sounds like he knows way  more about economics than he actually does. XD

As far as the preview, I like the drama that seems to be happening. ^^ Maybe they’ll finally give us some slightly more concrete info on what happened to Banba. Or just… Anything about the brothers’ past? And what about that hooded person? The sisters are up to something, but they’re obviously being forced into it somehow, Wyzul is definitely the sneaky type. We’re also heading into May, which means DimeVolcano and possibly Gaisorg/Gaisoulg? Though he wasn’t in any of the scans so even if his figurine is releasing, we likely won’t be seeing him until the very end/month after.

Pleasedon’tbeGoldpleasedon’tbeGoldpleasedon’tbeGold.

There are so many better possibilities. DX I know who I want it to be (even though I don’t strictly know ‘who’ that is XD), but there are other possibilities too.

And while I would like to see next ep, I am also curious about the arc coming after it. I really wanna know if my crazed visual analysis madness was right about it only being the kids who are trapped in Wonderland and Banba is trying to get them out. I wanna know.

Hm… Does anyone know where the ‘newspaper summaries’ come from? Like, we got the ones from 5 to 7… Are we gonna get ones for 8 to 11 at some point?

I am an impatient baby. DX ^^;

That’s all folks! Virtual chocolate eclairs for anyone who read all that. But, actually, that’s not all! I still wanna ramble about something—namely, and silly personal theory/hc of mine.

Bc of this face:

Okay, so. During that conversation where Banba did the whole ‘Kindness can make one weak’ thing, I mentioned that I found Kou’s reaction interesting? Bc it might’ve been in his characterisation to get mad and insist that kindness does not make people weak—esp since he clearly still doesn’t think that. But instead, he just looked a little hurt, and looked sad? Like… It seemed to me he was more saddened that Banba thought that way at all than being offended by the statement. Not ‘how could you think that?!’ but more… Like ‘that’s so sad that you’ve been made to believe that?’ If that makes sense? That somehow, Kou caught on that Banba has this view bc he was hurt terribly in the past? And then there’s this face here. Boy looks like a sad puppy. It’s totally my skewed interpretation bc I had that thought before, but to me it looks like he’s looking at Banba like… Empathetically? Like he pities him? So now I’m falling even deeper into the idea that Kou doesn’t find Banba’s distrust of others insulting of offensive in anyway, but is just sad for the fact that someone could come to think that way. Realises that Banba is like this bc he got hurt and is scared, and is just heartbroken by that? That someone could get hurt so badly that they lose faith in nearly all goodness in the world? I might like it if there’s a moment where Kou proves he’s more thoughtful than he seems (like, he can be thoughtful, he has his moments—though he is still an impulsive, goofy doofus) by, like, outright asking Banba what happened to him. That’d def throw Banba for a loop, I think. This is, of course, just my overthinking and incoherent rambling. But I do like the idea. ^^ Last note: my god Tatsuya has pretty eyelashes! DX

[consultingsister-aa]

❤ [ love, Sebastian ]

FOUR AND ONE // @asteriananthologies

❤  five four times my muse says they don’t love yours, and the one time they admit it.

I. Cecelia’s life has improved greatly the day she realised it didn’t need to be anyones birthday to buy cake. During the awkward ten minutes between her getting out of work and Charlotte getting out of school she had picked out a three layer chocolate cake, grin on her face from tesco. Of course, Charlie had chastised her for the decision, although it didn’t stop her digging in when they got home. Probably because she knew this was the closest thing Celia got to making dinner. Perched against the breakfast bar in the kitchen, while Charlie sat in one of the spinning chairs, they each attacked the cake with forks, enjoying the almost rebellious feel of not cutting it up into slices. “Do you think you and daddy would ever get back together?” Innocent eyes look up at Celia, as if she was just asking if she had a nice day at work. She knew what she was doing, Cee was sure of it. 

As she chews on her mouthful of cake, she pretends to consider. She can understand her daughter’s desire. It would be nice to have a settled home life. “No. We’re very different people now. Does that make you sad?” 

To her mother’s surprise, Charlie shakes her head rather vigorously, swallowing her cake before admitting, “I like having two christmases.” Celia points her fork towards her with a lazy flick of her wrist, as if to say, that’s my girl. “I know why you don’t want to be with James though. It’s because you love Sebastian now. That’s okay by the way, I know I should be sad about it but I like Seb too.” She gets it all out in one breath, obviously it’s been on her mind for a while. Now Cecelia really does choke on her cake; coughing and spluttering as she meets the younger girls look, shock etched into her own watering eyes. “Charlotte, I do not love Moran. What the hell?” 

II. “You do know that if- when this all goes to plan, your boyfriend shall be going to prison as well, Cece?”

221b Baker Street was a mess of files, papers, documents, crime scene photos and half drunk cups of tea. No seat, surface or inch of wallpaper was free from some sort of proof that James Moriarty was, in fact, the world’s most evil man alive. Or at least, in the opinion of the rooms occupants. Sherlock lent against the mantelpiece, looking tired but satisfied while Mycroft and John had managed to clear enough space on the dining room chairs to sit. Celia, on the other hand, stood in the middle of the room, looking around their compiled evidence with barely hidden glee, only for her smile to fall at Sherlock’s words. “And who exactly is my boyfriend today?” 

But it was John who offered up an answered, muffled slightly by the hand covering his face. “Sebastian Moran is my first guess.” He peaks through his fingers to see Celia’s look of shock mingled fury and grins at her. “Cee, we’ve been following Moriarty’s staff for weeks. You think we didn’t know you met up with him? We actually considered you might be working for Moriarty at one point. They Sherlock noticed you were twirling your hair around your finger whenever you talked to him. Classic Cecelia in love move. Mary confirmed it for us.” All three of the men seemed to get more and more satisfaction from her, as Cecelia stared about, open mouthed. She actually hadn’t known they were following Sebastian. They had considered that as risky as following Moriarty himself, but obviously they had worked around that. Without telling her! Maybe this was back when they thought she might have been a double agent. She’s actually sort of pleased with that vote of confidence from them all, but the idea that she was in love with Sebastian Moran? Fucking ridiculous. She stutters over her words. “I don’t– I’m not– for fuck sake!” They’re all grining now. “I do not love Sebastian fucking Moran!” 

III. Celia has never been good with blood. The fact she only gets vaguely nauseous these days is actually a grande improvement. Having completed one year of medicine at university though seems to have given people this idea that she’s practically a doctor. What most people don’t seem to realise is she spent every second class outside the lab breathing deeply in an attempt to get the corrider to stop spinning. She’s half convinced that this ‘turning up on her doorstep bleeding to death’ thing is her friends idea of exposure therapy. She also doesn’t totally buy that she was the closest safe house to Sebastian when he got stabbed; surely Moriarty has better places for his staff, and his second in command no less, to get stitched up than her house. Still, apart from all the blood, she’s pleased to see him. It gives her a little rush to know that he would come to her when in need. She’s always liked to be needed. “I want you to know,” Cee begins, breathing through her mouth as she pokes him with her needle, wincing herself, “that I’m not doing this out of love or compassion or anything, I’m doing it so you don’t bleed all over my carpet. Medical care is free in England, ya know? I’m charging you.” 

IV. What might be for the first time in her life, Celia looks awful. Her whole face is completely drained of blood and dark bags underline her eyes; a mess of lack of sleep and waterproof mascara not coming off. She can’t exactly sit up to greet him, three broken ribs will do that to you, but she does offer Moran a grin. Maybe it’s the fluorescent hospital lights, but even this small amount of effort seems to flush her cheeks and sickly green. 

She knows what he did. Moriarty would have likely gone the full hog and killed her the night previous if it wasn’t for him. Cee would have liked to say she didn’t give the criminal mastermind what he wanted but her threshold for pain is very low and she’ll cry at the drop of a hat these days. She’s not sure how long Moriarty got alone with her. It felt like hours but it could have been minutes for all she knows. He had sweetly explained to her that he was going to hurt her with the intention of causing the most pain he could, without allowing her to pass out or become unconscious from lack of blood. You can imagine the mess Cecelia was in then when Mycroft finally showed up with an army of policemen and ambulance crew, no Moriarty in sight. But she knew, she knew who had talked Moriarty out of his plan, and she knew who had called her brothers. He had appeared above her last night, in a haze of tears and pain like a guardian angel, willing her to stay awake. It was so hazy now she could not have been sure it was even him, but his visit to her sick bed confirmed it for her. He can’t stay long, she knows that before her says it. The only thing worse that Mycroft finding out would be Moriarty finding out about his visit. She’s starting to understand now. “It wasn’t just because of our case against him,” she whispers, her throat dry and scratchy from all the screaming and begging the night before. “He thinks you–” tears are rolling down her cheeks already. “He thinks we love each other.” She forced a smile. “I assured him we did not.” 

V. It had been months of rain. She knew that was impossible, if the rain didn’t let up for months they would probably all drown or something, but that’s what it felt like. New York City was as grey as London was when she left it. The whole world was grey without Charlie in it. Pointless people leading pointless lives, going about their business like the world didn’t end when Charlotte Holmes did. Cecelia’s world ended. She’ll carry on for the sake of carrying on but her hearts not really in it anymore. She tries to find passions in other things; persuading herself that Charlie wouldn’t have wanted her to just give up. In truth she doesn’t know what Charlotte would have wanted. It probably doesn’t even occur to a nine year old what she would want for her mother after she died. Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children; it was one of life’s sickest jokes. In a shallow attempt to remove herself from her own grief, Cecelia had uprooted her life in London and gone across the pond. New York had always held a sort of fantastic distraction for her before, but the grey cloud had followed her over to the States and hung above her head as a permanent fixture. Everyone was getting bored of her depression, she could feel them judging her silently, it’s been a couple months now, she should be over it. 

She’s been so numb to everything lately she isn’t even worried her door is unlocked, even though she is sure she did leave it locked this morning. It’s not like her to be so forgetful, although she’s not been herself of late. But the light on the living room… that is wrong. The man on the chair in the corner? Definitely out of place. She didn’t leave that here this morning. “Oh my god, what do you want?” She throws her purse to the sofa, heading directly to the drinks cabinet. He’s already got there before her; doors open; glass missing. “I have nothing–” her voice breaks and presses her hand to her mouth to cover a sob. “I have nothing else to give you Sebastian!”

It’s sick how much she’s missed him. She’s wanted to hate him, tried to with all her heart. But, as hard as she tries, she can’t. She can’t even blame him. He didn’t want her dead, she’s vaguely aware he’s as cut up about it as anyone. Maybe not her, but surely she gets some sort of mothers-privilege. She gets to be the most sad. 

“What happened? Did she go with you with willingly? That’s how much that little girl trusted you. She left her own home with you because– because I said she would always be safe with you. I did. I promised her.” This has been bubbling for weeks. The grief has given way to anger, finally. It makes her even more mad that he’s going to just sit there and take it like a wounded puppy. That’s all he is, he’s a dog on a leash, Moriarty giving commands. Sit boy, come, fetch Charlotte Holmes and lead her to her death! It makes her sick. 

“I trusted you.” Her voice is thick with tears. “I did more than that, I loved you. I loved you so much.” 

[cafe-rfa]

Pfft that’s so funny xD I think most of them would have similar reactions so this is short! Enjoy~

Intro:

You were writing - taking notes or making a list or anything in that regard - and for a moment you pulled away to think, absentmindedly playing with your pencil. Your phone suddenly rang, and the loud noise surprised you so much that - bam! - you stabbed the pencil into your arm (on accident!). But your attention was on the ringing phone, so you went to pick it up (only to find it was a telemarketer), leaving the pencil stuck in your arm...

Yoosung:

MC???? OMG. 

he panics for a moment but uh actually he’s a vet student so he braces himself and rushes in to help you!

 you brush him off and he’s like >:c 

“Mc! you should be more worried!! let me help you.”

you can’t get rid of him sorry he’s definitely going to take care of you no matter what you say

so he sits down with you with disinfectant and a band-aid and takes out the pencil from your arm 

all the while lecturing you about how you should pay more attention to your surroundings and to tell him when something’s wrong!

Zen:

“babe?? omg you got hurt!”

Zen doesn’t notice at first since you didn’t make any noise

But once he notices he is flat out panicking

Since he’s been living on his own for a long time, he’s been taking care of himself so he knows how to deal with minor injuries like this one

Although he gets a little worried about hurting you in the procedure, since he heals really fast but you don’t...

He patches you up nicely, all the while scolding you to be more careful

Once it’s all done, he leans in and kisses your band-aid

“So that it gets better quickly <3″

Jaehee:

“oh my! mc are you ok??” 

she is also more worried than you. Immediately drops whatever she was doing to take a look at your injury

but since you’re not worried and not in any apparent pain, she’s very relieved and doesn’t make a big deal out of this.

Jaehee helps you take the pencil out for you - if you complain she’ll just say this is what you get for being careless - and gets you a bandaid.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks like five times, just in case. But as long as you say you’re fine, she trusts you.

Jumin:

“MC? You uh, have a pencil in your arm.”

Jumin is really confused at first, he’s quiet and trying to asses the situation for the first little while. Since you’re not making a big deal out of it he’s not really sure how to react, is it even hurting you?

But. You have a pencil. stuck in. your arm. ???

oh no. now he’s also worried.

“I’ll call the doctor right away.” Jumin pulls out his phone immediately and you have to bEG him not to, that you’re actually okay

“But darling, you’re hurt-”

“I’m okay!! Really! Look!” You yank the pencil out of your arm - and this time it hurts.

Doesn’t really ease Jumin’s worries, but once it stops bleeding he’s finally agrees to let the whole doctor thing go.

Saeyoung:

“haha MC that’s a great prank buT you’re going to have to do better than that to fool me!!”

there’s no blood, not scream of pain, so of course it’s a prank, right??

he comes over and gives the pencil a little flick but it stays in place and that’s when Saeyoung freaks out - this isn’t a prank!!

“why didn’t you say anything?? how did you even do this-”

he’s talking the entire time as he gets the first aid kit. He’s dealt with worse wounds before (and so have you), but Saeyoung hates hates hates seeing you hurt so he goes all the way to the extreme.

Once you’re all patched up, he regrets he didn’t take a picture, since looking back it was pretty hilarious

V:

are you okay? he’s very gentle, and since you’re not worried he’s not making a scene, but he helps you get it out and all.

“are you okay, MC?”

Jihyun is super gentle with you - voice and touch alike.

Since you don’t seem to be worried, he’s not making a scene either

He trusts you in your pain scale! as long as you’re okay, he’s okay, too.

Gives off more of a “I’m not mad, just disappointed” atmosphere, but with worries

He helps you remove the offending pencil and asks if you need a band-aid

“How did this even happen?” he laughs a little bit afterwards and shakes his head, kind of amused.

Saeran:

MC???

this boy never ever wants you to get hurt so this is a big deal for him!

much bigger than for you, in any case, since you’ve barely realised you’ve got a pencil sticking out of your arm...

“are you okay? what happened? does it hurt a lot?”

he’s bombarding you with questions, but you manage to wave them off with a “yes i’m fine, don’t worry!”

thankfully you’re not hurt, so Saeran’s also okay and once he calms down he doesn’t magke a huge deal out of it but

wow you sure gave him a scare!

you probably end up apologising a little, “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I’m okay! I’ll be more careful in the future” you promise.

[kdenbibi]

Endless Chapter 5

Damian Wayne x Reader (x various)

Summary:Some questions are answered, some questions arise.

Warnings: Slight language, war flashbacks to Discowing

Authors Note: Yeet, hope ya like it

Tag List: @mirajanestrauss1999

I walked into the small coffee shop, shaking the snow from my beanie as I trudged towards the very back, my long winter jacket fluttered from the speed I was walking, I silently thanked the Lord they had the heater blasting in here.I peeled off the coat, tossing it in the empty booth in the back I'd been instructed to snag.  I tried my best not to let my nerves show, although to be fair I was meeting a complete stranger all by my lonesome, unfortunately Jon got an urgent call and had to bail, he seemed pretty hesitant to leave but after some reassurance that I'd be okay he dipped. Seconds felt like hours as I waited for the guy to show, my fingers drummed down on the worn down surface to the beat of the Christmas song softly drifting throughout the shop. The cheery atmosphere did nothing to quell the anxiety in my stomach, if the smell of cinnamon in the air and overall warmth the cafe provided couldn't help, then yeah I was definitely nervous. I tugged off my knit beanie, and attempted to smooth out the serious case of hat hair I had going on, thankfully, I braided my hair earlier so the loose curls sticking out looked on purpose, my fingers, now bored with the drumming, toyed with the ends of braid as a means of distraction. I felt my eye wander from the homely decorations hung up and around the walls, to watching the world go by through the window. I took in the sight, the snow had finally started to come down in Gotham so people were bundled up almost comically, and despite it being  below 40° outside, they went about their lives as usual, whenever new folks paid our city a visit, they were always perplexed at Gothamites abilities to ignore the freezing temperatures. I have to admit as sweet as the snow falling was to watch, hands down my favorite thing about this time of year was the city's tradition to string up what looked to be a million Christmas lights above and through downtown, making the usual dim, dark, nights much brighter. I was so in my thoughts I jumped at the sudden body very casually-and very loudly I might add- sliding into the booth across from me, I ended up slamming my knees into the table so hard the salt and pepper shakers knocked over. I whispered a curse under my breath as I rubbed at my newly bruised knee, and before I could roast the unwanted stranger, my head snapped up to see a familiar grin. "Yikes- that sounded like it hurt, you okay kid?" "Besides needing new kneecaps? Yeah just peachy - thanks for asking strange grown man." Said random man gave a warm laugh at my response, I took in his appearance, trying to gage if he was a threat or not, I could tell even sitting down the guy had a few good inches on me, he was wrapped in a brown bomber jacket, underneath was a crisp white shirt just asking to be stained by the grease that came with living here. He simply smiled while I analysed him, familiarity pinged in my head once I laid eyes on him grin. I scanned over his facial features, trying my damnedest to figure out where the hell I knew him from, his eyes were almost the same shade of electrifying  blue as Jon's, his hair fell in tufts of black waves, the few scattered snowflakes atop the waves made the black stand out even more.

All I got from my mini evaluation was this guy was hot, but I wasn't about to lower my defenses because of it.

He broke the silence before I could, suddenly looking confused as he glanced around the building. "Hey I thought you were gonna bring a friend? Or are they just hiding out in a vent waiting to ambush me if things go bad?" He joked, and just like that I remembered why I was even here. "Holy shit you're Ni- you're here." He nodded, the goofy grin ever present.My voice cracked mid sentence, I managed to stop myself from basically screaming 'Well butter my biscuits it's Nightwing! In the flesh!' and cleared my throat trying not to show the heat of embarrassment steadily creeping up my neck. "He uh- had to cancel actually, but don't worry I have a plan in case you turn out to be a weirdo." He laughed again, not taking any offense to my sort of threat. "Smart girl." He leaned back against the booth, thumbing through the menu like we were just two buddies catching up over coffee."I wonder if they serve any food, I'm starving.” He waved over the waitress grabbing himself a coffee, "Want something?" I responded still staring at the man confusion plastered across my face."Coco please." After a few moments of silence he spoke, clearly amused.

"You okay over there?"

"What no, wait I mean yeah why- why wouldn't I be." I internally cringed at my answer, he gave me a look which said he didn't but it, but the conversation dropped there.He filled the time spent waiting for our orders with casual stories about his day job as a police officer and how crazy it could be."Moral of the story, don't try to drive after your eyes have been dilated." I nodded, still, if not more nervous than I was earlier, a part of me felt like I should have been taking notes, he sighed into his palm, a smaller smile on his lips. "What is it? Do I have something on my face?" He picked up the dingy napkin dispenser, attempting to look at himself in the just barely reflective surface. I couldn't help the snort from escaping my mouth. "Nah I'm just trying to wrap my head around," I gestured to him with a wave of my hand. "- all this." He put down the dispenser with a smile. "It's pretty weird huh?" "Just a little." I laughed out pinching my fingers together. "I mean you're so - normal." Just then the waitress brought us our orders,He laughed into the coffee mug, taking a long sip before responding. "Well what did you think we did all day, work on our outfits and plan witty comebacks?" I paused before nodding. He sighed, rubbing his temple, "I can't speak for everyone but I happen to be a very normal guy- mostly." "Well 'normal guy' I gotta get your name cuz’ I'm running out of things to call you." He stuck out his hand,"Richard Grayson at your service, but my friends call me Dick." I took his outstretched palm with a firm shake. "Those don't sound like very good friends,” I joked “ I'm (Y/n) (L/n)." After half my drink was gone and the atmosphere was much lighter than earlier, a question popped up in my mind. "Let me ask you a question Dick." "Shoot." "Why'd you come here- you know, out of your whole 'sparkly' get up." He squinted at me, wiping his face before pointing a finger at my face. "First of all it is not 'sparkly', and let me tell you I know sparkly, one version of the costume had a very, very deep v-neck, I'm talking uncomfortable to look at deep, trust me this is an upgrade." I laughed, nearly chocking on my drink as I pictured him in the world's deepest v-neck, I wiped at my mouth with the back of my sleeve, the nerves finally leaving once I realized he was really just a normal dude.

Well a normal dude who kicks ass in tights at night but that's besides the point.

"Okay well that still doesn't tell me why you showed up all not-clad-in-skin-tight-kevlar. Aren't secret identities kind a big deal for y'all spandex junkies?" "Well yeah, but like I said before, you're a good kid, so I'm not all that worried." He leaned forward, a hopeful smile on his face. "Besides, there's gotta be trust between the people you work with- if you'd like to join us spandex junkies that is." I smiled at the man, a new wave of warmth spread through me as he spoke, I mentally paused, searching for any kind of hesitancy from my gut but all I got was a 50/50 ratio of nerves and excitement. "I'm listening, although I can't promise I'll squeeze myself into anything uncomfortable, even if it looks good." "Duly noted." He laughed. We spent the next hour shooting questions back and forth, most of his were unsurprisingly about what I could and could not do.

Mine were mostly about the tights.

By now the sun had set but there were still plenty of people walking about, apparently the threat of crime wasn't about to deter their Christmas shopping. "So what made you change your mind? About calling me that is?" He asked pulling me from my thoughts. I pulled on the sleeves of my shirt out of habit. "Something happened at the bank the other day-" "Wait, that mysterious hero was you?" "Yes and no," I gave a dry laugh "-anyway something..uh new happened with my powers and I figured if anyone could help me it be a dude who spends all his time around other people like me, can't exactly learn about this in chemistry class ya know?" He nodded with a warm smile, before his face shifted into something more of determination, "Look, I'll be honest here, personally I can't relate to the whole 'ooky spooky abilities' deal but I know a few people who do, and we'd all be willing to help." I gave him a soft smile, a warm feeling of appreciation swelled in my chest. "Thank you- I mean it really, I have no idea where it comes from- or what the full extent of it is." I huffed leaning back into the seat. "It sure be nice not to worry about it any more." "Again, like I said, it's kind of our job to help and protect. So it's not a problem kiddo." 

This felt like a moment from those sappy films where the older sibling figure ruffles the younger ones hair affectionately, but it wasn't.

Because if he tried it, I'd stab his hand with my fork out of reflex.

"So what's the plan here, am I gonna meet up with you in your secret lair and practice?" He chuckled out a no before continuing. "Not exactly, I'll have to finalize things with the big guy and when everything's ready we'll come to you." "Big guy?" He looked at me questioningly, a small smirk curling on his lips, waiting for me to come to my own conclusion. "Oh shit you mean Batman oh. OH." He shushed me with a laugh looking around at the other patrons before turning back to me. "Don't worry he's not at scary as everyone thinks." "Are you shitting me? Hell no." I shook my head with an uneasy laugh."He's on the Babadooks level- He's on that Freddy .vs. Jason level of scary." He barked out a laugh before pulling out the money to cover our bills. "Trust me kid, you'll do fine." "What if he doesn't like me? What if I don't make the cut and he throws me out a six story window?"

"That's oddly specific and-" he looked around for the sake of dramatics and whispered. "You didn't hear this from me, but if it'll make you feel better, you won't be dealing with him much." "Wait- who will I be dealing with then?" He winced out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck."See now I really can't tell you that."I pouted at the older man,"Dude! You said it yourself, there should be trust between people working together, don't contradict yourself Richard." I spoke with grin. "Damnit you got me there." He snapped his fingers together before leaning in "Okay but I'm only telling you because I think you deserve a warning." My brows shot up in concern at that. "Why would I need a warning exactly?" "Well, you remember that kid I had to stop from turning you to mincemeat?" "Yeah sure, I remember the goblin." He said nothing else, calmly sipping his mug, eyes cast away from me, making me realize exactly who he meant. "Shit."

Damian POV

I easily dodged Jon's incoming fist, his stance was wrong and his punches were sloppy, he was distracted by something. I used this to land a firm kick to the back of his exposed knee, bringing him down with a wince worthy thud.My heel pressed into the center of his back as I leaned down to the struggling teenager, the pressure increased on his back the lower I went. After realizing he wasn't getting up any time soon he tapped on the mat twice, signaling his defeat. "You're terrible at this you know." I offered him a hand after he managed to roll onto his back, he scoffed at me but took my offer, pulling himself into a standing position."Well yeah, thats the whole point of you training me." He rolled his shoulders before setting his feet in the proper position. He motioned at me to come at him, I simply walked towards the nearest bench and took a seat. "Aw come on Damian! You told me to come home and train but you won't even-" "You are distracted, in a real fight that would kill you." I spoke before taking a short sip from my water bottle. "Sort yourself out Jonathan." I watched the boy from the corner of my eye, his face was furrowed in frustration, I could tell he was losing his cool, it brought a smirk to my face. "I'm not distracted-" "You and I both know I'm not wrong, so talk, spew your problems like some prepubescent child, if it'll get your mind in the game."He sighed plopping down to sit on the slightly worn down mat, "I'm just a little worried about (y/n)-" "Why is there an update?" I spoke up interrupting him. He shook his head no. "Besides what happened at the bank? Nothing, I would have told you." He spoke that last line with a hint of bitterness, when I first told him to get intel on the girl, he was completely against the idea. My mind flashed to that first initial morning where they walked off together, a plan had came to my head to get the information I needed without doing much of anything. As the week progressed, I'd ask the Kryptonian if anything interesting happened with her, hoping she'd share with the boy, but unfortunately for me, he began to catch on. "Damian, can I ask you something?" "You just did but fine, go ahead." We sat at our usual lunch table, the everyday chaos of high school chatter blended our conversation into the background. "Why are you so curious about (y/n)?" I looked up from my book to meet his suspicious gaze."Is it wrong to be curious, Kent?" His leaned into his hand, the puzzlement in his eyes never faltering."No there's nothing wrong with that! its just, you don't really take interest in, well anything." I stared at him unimpressed. "No offense! I meant normal teenage stuff, like I only ever see you talk to a few people here, and whenever we talk it's about her." I won't lie, his intellect surprised me, but I didn't let it show. "She's seems like a nice person is all." I watched as his suspicion fell and the smile on his face grow into something mischievous. "So would you say she'd make a good friend?" My face scrunched in confusion."What?- sure yes if it'll shut you up." And with that he suddenly rose before making his way across the cafeteria, to my dismay he came back with the girl in question. (Y/n) looked between us, clearly just as confused as I was."Are you gonna tell me what was so urgent or keep me standing here like boo boo the fool?" "Damian wanted to know if you would sit with us for lunch!" Our eyes met, her's skeptical, mines more surprised than angry that the little shit had it in him to do this. I realized she was waiting for my confirmation, obviously not buying what Jon said. "If you want." I spoke after clearing my throat. An uneasy smile made it's way on her face before she sat down across from me, Jon took the seat next to her."Uh thanks? I mean this is uhm, nice of you and all but why?" Jon spoke for me. "Well we were just talking about how Damian here doesn't have many friends-" I kicked his shin hard under the table, but it only hurt my foot, I held back a wince and the urge to rub my now pulsing appendage. 'Boy of steel, right, I forgot.' Jon looked to me with a smirk before continuing."-and I was telling him all about how you're so nice and cool and yeah, here we are." She looked at me with a smirk stretched across her full lips, a perfectly arched brow rose in question, "That's surprising, who wouldn't wanna be friends with someone as charming and kindhearted as pretty boy over here?" The sarcasm was practically dripping from her voice.Jon, either too oblivious to notice or too excited to care, ignored this. "Great to hear! Well how was everyone's day?" Neither of us answered too busy in a stare off, I tried to analyze her, and she stared right back, refusing to step down from this unspoken glare contest. Jon interrupted us with a cough. "Well my day was great thanks for asking." She turned away to look at the taller boy, her expression much more friendly than the look she gave me. "Sorry, his whole 'children of the corn' thing going on is pretty distracting." she pointed her thumb back motioning to me, "-what'd you do today anyway?" He went on to list all the miniscule things he achieved before lunch. I half listened to their conversation, mostly focused on the novel I had, occasionally chiming in whenever I felt it necessary. Just like that the lunch period was over, and it was time to head back to reality.(Y/n) looked to me before she left, a half smile on her face, I was surprised it was directed at me and not the younger boy by my side. "You're not so bad Wayne, when you aren't talking that is." I smirked at the girl, slapping my novel shut with one hand."I'll admit, the brief moments your mouth was shut were rather nice." She laughed off my insult with a wave of her hand, before returning to her group to finish their day.

When the school day crawled to an end, and I was driving Jon and myself back to the manor, it occurred to me the boy in my passenger seat wasn't one to be easily fooled, it also occurred he may already know of her abilities and is acting stupid to throw off my questioning. I decided to sidestep all the bullshit of my original plan and straight out ask him. "Let's not beat around the bush Jonathan, has (y/n) told you anything strange about herself?" He snapped his head up, away from his phone to stare at me. "Pardon me?" I rolled my eyes at his act. "You know? Her powers, what has she told you of them?" "She has powers?" He practically screamed, I resisted the urge to slam the car into the traffic surrounding me and took a deep breath. "I'd appreciate it if you refrained from screaming like a banshee in my car." I spoke with a roll of my eyes, god the more time I spent with this kid the more I saw the inside of my head."You can drop the act, I know of her powers already." "I didn't!" He yelled, deflating in his seat."You're kidding me right?" He didn't answer."I'll take that as a no then, TT." He groaned tossing his hands up in the air, clearly distraught. The rest of the car ride was silent, him no doubt letting the information sink in. It wasn't until days later did we speak again, after he returned home rather late, looking like he'd been kicked down a flight of stairs. I sipped at the tea steaming in my cup as he sat down at the table, rubbing at his neck, exhaustion clear in his body language. "What's up with you?" His tired eyes lifted to meet mine. He hesitated before speaking, having some sort of internal debate on whether or not to tell me. "Something happened today, something with (y/n)." He gave me a very rough explanation, not wanting to delve into the details too much, before trying to head up to bed, I grabbed his arm stopping him in his tracks. "You saw what happened today, it could get worse if she doesn't get help, but she won't listen to me, so you have to do it." "What- me? I don't even know what you're saying." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the kid before speaking again. "You're her friend, it should be easy to get some information about the extent of her abilities and bring it back to me." He scoffed at me, "I wouldn't deceive her like that- I wouldn't deceive anyone like that!" "You wouldn't be deceiving anyone, you'd simply be using your friendship to gain information for the greater good." I responded with a shrug."It would feel wrong, I don't wanna use her." "No one said you'd use her, you can still keep up that happy go lucky friendship shit once you tell me what I need." "That's not how friendships work." He chewed on the nail of his thumb, deep in thought. I continued, placing a hand on his shoulder. "As a hero, it's your responsibility to protect the public from any threats, or any potential threats." I used my Robin voice, the tone I used to talk to civilians, commanding but nonthreatening, trying to get it through his thick head."She's not a threat." He looked conflicted as he spoke. "Any unregistered meta is a threat, hell me and you both are threats. Power in the wrong hands is never a good thing." "Well it's not in the wrong hands, she saved those people today!-" "Prove it to me, show me she's not a threat and I'll drop it." We stared at one another in silence before he nodded, a fire in his eyes.

"Deal."

I was brought back to the present when he moved to stand, stretching out his body."I think I'm good now, you ready for round two?" I placed the water bottle down before rising, I walked until I was an arms reach away from him, "Let's see if Kryptonian's are all their hyped up to be."

After a good two hours of sparring (aka me tossing him on his ass in many different ways) and getting an idea of what he could do and handle, we called it a day. We made our way up from the cave, into the empty kitchen, he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, tossing one to me before sitting down at the table.I nodded as thanks and pressed the cold bottle against my warm skin, sure the kid couldn't fight for shit but he was resilient as hell. I leaned against the counter, the cold of the marble bringing some relief to my overheated body. "What had you so worked up earlier anyway?" I asked breaking the silence that had fallen over us as we tried to catch our breaths. He finished patting his face with a towel before speaking."Oh it's nothing serious, I was supposed to go with her to meet someone but she texted me everything's going smoothly." "Why would she need you there?"

Thankfully he learned early on not to take my bluntness to heart, so he replied with a smile.

"I mean who wants to meet some hardcore vigilante all by themselves?" My head snapped up so fast it startled the younger boy. "She's doing what?" He grimaced at me, a nervous smile on his lips. "Meeting up with a vigilante to discuss her powers?" He spoke as more of a question than an actual answer.I felt the urge to slam my hand to my forehead, or alternatively his head into the cabinet. "It just occurred to you to share this with me now?" 

My voice was rising, I couldn't believe the amount of stupidity bottled up into one human. "Hey in my defense I thought you knew! I mean it is Nightwing, you guys are cool right? You have nothing to worry about!." His eyes shifted from me to the doorway, as he inched towards it, his voice had gone up a few good octaves in fear. He held up his hands like he expected me to throw something his way, a good chunk of me thought that wouldn't be a bad idea. I paused, racking my brain for answers to all the questions I had, why would Dick go see her? Why didn't I know about it? Why was I not strangling Jon right now? So many questions with no answers. I looked up to ask him for any other withheld information only to see his body quickly disappearing down the hallway.

"I'm sorry I'm running but you're way too freaky to be around when you're mad!" He yelled over his shoulder, it echoed throughout the hallway. I had now two options, call Dick, demand an explanation and hope he'll give it to me, or take my anger out on my housemate and then call dick.

Option two sounded much more fun, and besides, a quick throw off the balcony would test his flight skills.

[ahouseoflies]

Best Films of 2017, Part V

This is the last entry of the series. I hope you’ve enjoyed this year’s rundown. Thanks for reading. GREAT MOVIES 22. Nocturama (Bertrand Bonello)- The first half painstakingly observes a terrorist attack--one so vaguely expressed that, until you see a gun twenty minutes in, you can't even be positive that's the coordination you're seeing. As gripping as that is, however, the second half is better. To hide out after their attack, all of the kids lock themselves in a mall overnight, and of course they can't resist goofing off in there. The juxtaposition of (presumably--again, their motivation isn't explained) anti-capitalist ideals with capitalist dressing is what makes the movie. Sometimes it's obvious: a gold lamp shaped like an assault rifle. Sometimes it's artful: One of the kids is arranged in a hot tub to look like David's The Death of Marat, as if to suggest that this tragic sort of disaffection is inherently European. Always it's effective: "Whip Your Hair" blaring across the electronics section and silencing news reports might be the music moment of the year. That song is another intentional choice. Inspired or not, Willow Smith is too young to mean what she says she does, and she's forever trapped in a space that cannot be owned by her. She can't eclipse the legacy set for her. How French. 21. Alien: Covenant (Ridley Scott)- (Weyland-Yutani needs to step its game up on the signal for their communication devices.) The Alien series has always been about smuggling. (In fact, Alien: Resurrection is literally about smugglers.) Alien takes a sci-fi framework and smuggles in slasher tropes; Aliens slips a war film into the spaceships; Alien 3 is a prison movie. All of them take the established boundaries and disrupt them with another genre. Now Ridley Scott is taking the blueprint of an Alien movie itself and using it to meditate on the limits of reason. It's still an Alien movie, slow like the others, and the orgiastic gore of the alien scenes still pops. But it's way better when robots are talking to each other about why they don't dream. Early on, Billy Crudup's Oram admits to his wife that he was passed over for the captain job because Weyland-Yutani didn't trust a "man of faith" to make rational decisions in stressful situations. (Good casting: To me, Crudup has always looked like a youth minister who thinks you're a really interesting kid and wishes he could get to know you better.) So what Scott interprets for the rest of the movie is: Could a man of faith achieve true rationality, or is his faith so foundational that it could be an impediment to the logic that makes us human? That is, if your belief in the guiding hand of God supersedes even proof to the contrary, there are clear limits to your reasoning. I suspect that Ridley Scott, as an atheist, lacks respect for that type of person, but he also sort of admires the idealism. Oram's logical limit is what Weyland was trying to overcome when he created the synthetic David. If a being knew its creator (and, more importantly, knew that creator was not worth praying to), would that make him transcendent or would it expose a fundamental emptiness? A synthetic basically lives forever, so it has more in common with the "engineer" gods of Prometheus than the humans do. But halfway through Covenant--the title itself referring to a negotiation between God and man--we find out how uncomfortable mankind was with such a creation. Updates to David have squelched his creativity and brought him down to humans' level, since the flawless nature of such a creation illuminates the creator's flaws. Our blurry line to our own creator is a source of strength and a source of weakness.Looking back on Alien 1, the idea to make space travel tedious and blue collar seems quaint now. Of course the future isn't shiny and evolved; on a superficial level, we'll probably share a lot with the people that come after us. As far as the yearning in our souls goes, we'll definitely share a lot with the people that come after us. An Alien movie is an Alien movie is an Alien movie. 20. All the Money in the World (Ridley Scott)- If Ridley Scott's other 2017 film is about how hell is other people, then All the Money in the World is about how hell is yourself. At the perfect time for his audience to be pissed about petty rapacity, Ridley Scott has made his own large-scale commercial adaptation of "Ozymandias." I'm in the bag for late-period Ridley auterism, but it was fascinating for me to watch a logically escalating crowd pleaser about the emptiness of money from a person who probably knows that emptiness very well.The performances are all over the map. Wahlberg sucks--he's miscast, but at this point I don't know what he wouldn't be miscast in. National Treasure Michelle Williams overdoes it, but that might be the right calculation in something approximating reality this broadly. Her presence can't be denied. And then there's Christopher Plummer, the heart of the film, who is in way more of it than I expected. In a way I think Kevin Spacey's misdeeds would have helped the movie: The audience would be reflexively booing a person they're supposed to be booing in the context of the piece. But I suspect Plummer's approach to the role is more broken and lonely than what Spacey would have turned in. He's more believable as someone who is staring unrepentantly at the end of his life, and his speech about how "things" never disappoint him is what brought it home for me.

19. After the Storm (Hirokazu Koreada)-  "That's complex." "No, it's simple. Life is very simple...I just said something really deep, didn't I?" That sort of exchange, getting at the heart of the human condition through the most everyday, straightforward, intimate circumstances, is Koreada's bread-and-butter. The first ninety minutes are not without their charms, but they're sort of fatty and obligatory. They're really there to set up the emotional wallop of the final thirty minutes, and the gamble pays off. 18. The Beguiled (Sofia Coppola)- There's a scene about halfway through in which Farrell's McBurney is a captive audience for the ladies' evening prayers. The women surround him, sharing a chair, sitting on the floor, and the taffeta of their dresses in front of him pools into a multi-colored body. Their femininity is soft and inviting, but it's an obstacle as tangled as it is unified. It's that type of image that classes up cattiness into something more tragic and elegant. The 1971 version of The Beguiled is pulpy, so it might be helpful to describe this one as juicy. It's strained of anything that makes the original seem dime-store or exploitative, but it keeps the quality of satisfying sensationalism. Coppola does this by crafting a compelling composite character and, in large part, by excising the slave character. It's a slightly cowardly move, but ol' Hallie might have been a distracting bridge too far in 2017. Luckily, Coppola is able to nail the hypocrisy of the Confederate South through religion instead. To me, the pacing of a Sofia Coppola work is often what makes or breaks it. The slice-of-life detours in Lost in Translation, the poetic rhythm of day-to-day moments, feels like dilatory stalling in Somewhere. So The Beguiled is a new direction in the sense that it's a potboiler--every scene contributes to the next in a lean straight line. It would have been nice to see Harris Savides, her late collaborator, take a stab at all of this natural light, but other than that, I didn't miss the old her. 17. Song to Song (Terrence Malick)- If you don't already like what David Ehrlich calls Malick's "twirling horndog" era--I prefer "metropolitan trilogy of self-absorption"--I won't be able to convert you by now. Especially when Rooney Mara is fingering meats in a Costco, this feels like a film made just for me. I do think that, compared to To the Wonder and Knight of Cups, this film's journey of mercy is fairly direct for Malick. (As far as that group of films goes, there might be a loose progression of detachment, wandering, and return/restore.) Fassbender's devilish Cook waves at his possessions early in the film and says, "None of this exists," and his empty promises pervert innocence at every turn, sometimes tragically. For a hedonist, he isn't being-in-the-world in the way that Malick would prefer. It's telling that, by the "end" of the film--and I say that hesitantly since the events seem to loop back on themselves--Faye inverts Cook in her narration. She says: "This. Only this," referring to love. Or at least, like, authentic experience. That's why Weightless was such a better title for this: As an insult for "having no mooring," it describes Cook; as a compliment for "free," it describes Faye and BV. How Malick is this, besides that interpretation of planes of existence? Very Malick. There's a sequence in which Gosling's BV returns home to console his bereaved family, and his brother says something like, "After being so hung-up on Dad for so long, he finally dies and--" Malick cuts to something else, so wary of something that feels like a treacly Movie Moment. And in avoiding those cliches, he creates his own. Characters still fall out of relationships and drift toward other thin, unnamed beautiful girls with hair in their faces, and it has become such a pet trope for him that a woman even gets in on the trend this time. But how many filmmakers have enough style in the first place for you to be able to make fun of their style? If it all adds up to a moment as alive as Gosling sliding in his sock-feet, then make fun of it all you want. When Malick the classicist first started making films that take place in present-day, it was jarring to spot, say, a Target in the background of a shot. But now that I've adjusted to it, that topicality means...very little at all really, and that's why it's foolish to get hung up on why Mara has blonde hair in this scene or why Gosling is driving a different car in that scene. Austin City Limits or a Longhorns game are specific events, but the relationships are so elemental that they might as well be revealing themselves in a Middle Ages castle or a prehistoric cave. In fact, sign me up for Rooney Mara fingering meats in a prehistoric cave. 16. John Wick: Chapter 2 (Chad Stahelski)-  It's lit. When I reviewed the first entry, I spent a lot of time on John Wick "transgressing realms" and stuff. (And that's there--the final setpiece takes place at a modern art museum, ever eager to mix the high and the low.) But let's be real: It's embarrassingly fun to watch Keanu Reeves shoot people in the head. Chapter 2 ups the ante on the mythology of the setting without spoon-feeding, and it's all in the service of a giddy two hours that is as lightning quick as it is painstakingly choreographed. 

15. The Lost of City Z (James Gray)- Knowing that I would see this movie, I avoided reviews, but I have no doubt they employed the word "sweeping." To me though, that word implies a shorthand of emotion sacrificed at the altar of grandeur, a "they fall in love yada yada" that you have to exchange for scope. The Lost City of Z is not sweeping in that case because every minute of its running time seems essential, and the passage of twenty years only enhances the emotional acuity. It's lean and Lean. "Atmosphere": That's another word that people use for a vague visual texture. James Gray and Darius Khondji extend their collaboration to create visual layers--planes of smoke or fog that makes the images heavy in a literal sense. By the time they shoot the dappled sunlight and the faded green of the jungle, the screen already has a lather of sweat. On a more specific note, I appreciated that Gray found the through-line of such a complicated historical tale, and that through-line is his pet theme of obsession. Driven by the deficit of his ancestry, Percy Fawcett is motivated by risk down to his bones. On some level the film is something that we've seen before--though Robert Pattinson has never been better than he is as the obligatory shrewd guide. But the film taps into such a primal call to adventure that it feels as if it has always existed, as if it's The Story, and that's a compliment even if "sweeping" and "atmospheric" aren't. 14. Baby Driver (Edgar Wright)- If someone wants to know what a director does, and Casino is too long for him, then this is my new go-to example. Edgar Wright is a Tarantino follower, and like Tarantino before him, he started with fealty to different genres until he ended up with a type of movie to call his very own. I don't have much to add to the plentiful discourse about the chases or the music, ("Every Little Bit Hurts" is my killer track.) but I appreciated that every scene was as propulsive and direct as the chases. The film is broad, both in its characterization and its morals, but it would be a mistake to think of the characters as archetypes. Despite placeholder names, each character has a nuanced backstory, from Doc's nephew to Buddy's telling real name. Jamie Foxx is terrifying as the unpredictable Begbie figure of the crew, and the narrative gives him the latitude to do literally anything he wants. 13. Ingrid Goes West (Matt Spicer)- I could tell you about the breakneck beginning: Somebody gets maced in the first minute, and we, refreshingly, have to fill in a lot of backstory for ourselves. I could point out the tight, organic escalation of the second act, informed by all the details that I liked, especially Taylor's tendency to float an "If you can..." onto her sentences to soften herself. But let me talk about the ending (in an unspecific way). This movie can end in only one way, and it does. It offers closure for the theme it has established, knowing full well not to fill us with a false sense of security or pretend that it's tidier than it is. When the film falters, it's because it's trying to declare itself as a Movie of the Moment, but its ending is as humble as it is logical. 12. Personal Shopper (Olivier Assayas)- A film way more about the language it's told in than the end result of what it's telling. [initiate conceit] These most recent Assayas films feel like fancy cocktails with different levels of separation. There's the base, which is a woman who is stalled and unhappy. One of the sweet liqueurs on top of that is her job--meaningless for her taste--as a shopper for a celebrity, a go-between for someone too famous to interact in public. The Kahlua to balance that is her status as a spiritual medium, a go-between for someone too dead to interact in public. She has a heart condition that tethers her emotions, she has a boyfriend who is absent yet present through Skype, she has Youtube videos as conduits for the past, she has a person who has emerged as a literal replacement for her dead brother's widow. Maybe you just want a beer, but I don't mind paying a little extra to see a real bartender get all of those pretty colors together. [close conceit] The film's elliptical final third provides closure in one sense but not another; it verges on cop-out. Maybe more importantly, the film is a step backwards for Kristen Stewart, who is still magnetic but has slipped back into being mannered. There's a scene with a police officer in which the stammering is out of control. She has earned such goodwill, however, that I'm willing to evaluate anything the character does as a productive choice. Why does she take one sip out of drinks and leave them to make a ring on the table? Why does she type a space before a question mark? Why does she use default ringers and not turn off the clicky-type setting? She always gives me something to do.

11. Blade Runner 2049 (Denis Villeneuve)- Late in the movie--and by that I mean "after Harrison Ford appears"--the villainous Luv is about to smash a cartridge that powers Joi, our hero's holographic girlfriend, and Joi lunges forward as she croaks out "I love y--" before being shorted out. She's professing love as part of the motion forward to save herself, so I began to wonder which expression was more instinctive: self-preservation or love? Which one is more human, especially if the figure involved is only approximating humanity? It's a tiny moment isolated from some of the more intent questioning that Blade Runner 2049 is doing, but the film is still thick with those ideas. Thank God Villeneuve takes his time asking those questions too. Whenever the film shifts into plot gear, it gets silly, but when it's providing purely visual storytelling, there's no setting I would rather engage with. If Roger Deakins doesn't win an Oscar, then those awards really mean nothing. Together he and Villeneuve have made the most expensive art film of all time. At one point Jared Leto, who seems to be in a different movie from everyone else, plays a conversation from the November 2019 of the original movie, and it was a little thought bubble of everything that a re-quel should be: The present was the past was the future. 10. Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig)- The best coming-of-age movies, like The 400 Blows or Rushmore (a mini-poster of which is on Lady Bird's wall if you squint), are not afraid to make their characters look small. The Lady Bird character isn't necessarily dumb or naive--though sometimes she is. She's selfish and martyred in the way that teenagers always are. The type of person who would lie about where she lives because she's ashamed of her class, who knows she shouldn't raise her hand at the assembly but does anyway. The genre buys a size up in pettiness, knowing that its characters are going to grow. Lady Bird's piggishness manifests itself most clearly when she's with her mother, to the extent that the relationship, the most important one in the film, is almost grating. That's the point, of course: They butt heads because they're so alike in their inexplicable principles. The first time we see them, they're silently crying at the conclusion of an audio book, connected by a feeling they share but can't articulate. Lady Bird is broader and tidier than I expected, but its details kind of sang to me, both in the tangible cell phones and 9/11-themed bulletin boards and the more abstract notion of a world threatening you and inviting itself to you at the same time. The success of a movie like this comes from how much you didn't want it to end, and I would have eaten up another two hours of L.B. cutting it up in New York. 9. Graduation (Cristian Mungiu)- I have to start including Cristian Mungiu among my favorite directors because every time out he crafts something naturalistic, piercing, and profound. This time Mungiu is working through moral compromise, but as always, he's using the protagonist's predicament to turn the lens on the corruption of the crumbling Romanian spirit. Graduation is probably his most thematically overt work yet--in fact, some of the scenes feel as if they're in italics--but it doesn't suffer from that directness. There's still a lot to grapple with, from the tone of the final shot to Aldea's penchant for cutting fruit, a symbol I haven't worked out yet. Demanding the same patience that it exhibits, Graduation slowly widens its circle of characters as Dr. Aldea gets in over his head, as if to suggest that, even when we think our sin is personal, it always taints others. Especially in the second half, the film is also an austere meditation on parenting--specifically the limits of its influence and sacrifice. It doesn't reach the heights of the last two Mungiu movies, but what does?

8. The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected) (Noah Baumbach)- For me, Noah Baumbach is the filmmaker laureate of divorce. I knew this during The Squid & the Whale, when I recognized my broken home kin in the negotiation of "This is your house too" or the acid behind sentences that start with "Well, your mother..." Now that he's a sufferer of divorce in his own adult life, Baumbach shows a different understanding of blended families and their often imagined slights in The Meyerowitz Stories. Any discussion of the film would get personal for me because I got chills from saying almost the exact, prickish things that the characters say to their father. It helps that the father, Harold, is played by Dustin Hoffman in his best performance in twenty years. As written, the character is already a specific brand of pompous, jealous, New York septugenarian ass, but Hoffman combines what's on the page with a short-strided run and a conversational delay and the ability to make me laugh by just the way he says "shark." I'm not sure the film's structural gambit works--I could have accepted a fractured story with being told that it's a fractured story--but I think Baumbach, particularly as a writer, is on an amazing roll right now. 7. The Shape of Water (Guillermo Del Toro)- The Richard Jenkins character in this film comments on whatever is showing on his television, from Bojangles to Alice Faye but, tellingly for a fable, not the Civil Rights struggle. It occurred to me that, if a man were in his late '50s in 1962 like him, he could be conversant with all of 20th century pop culture. I'm not sure I would want that--I've watched all of the Mr. Ed that I care to--but it's something that is impossible now that media has splintered into so many different directions. Then I thought, if anyone comes close to that sort of knowledge, it's Guillermo Del Toro. The Shape of Water, his best, is the perfect distillation of his influences and an elegiac time in American history. He mixes together the Cold War, restaurant franchising, Hollywood musicals, New Advertising, and more. You may not immediately know what the deal is with those match cuts and candy, but they end up being sturdy bricks for an organically soulful whole. This is a director who has frustrated me with his tendency to get lost in the sauce, but his monster finally adds up to something beautiful here. The film goes too far, spelling things out for Jenkins especially, but it knows exactly where it goes too far and refuses to look back. Michael Shannon stands out as 2017's worst nightmare, but every character's arc gives him or her a fair, well-rounded shake. The script feels buffed to shine, the type they teach in school. And if Alexandre Desplat's score wasn’t the best of the year, then I can't wait to listen to whatever was better. 6. A Ghost Story (David Lowery)- This doesn't sound like the compliment that it is, but I can't remember a successful movie for which dialogue mattered less. In fact, the one piece that didn't work for me, the Will Oldham monologue, rings false because it's the only time that the "what" is more important than the "how." It's why the music is so effective, why there can be a whole sequence in Spanish without subtitles, why the movie doesn't have to make literal sense: It's about the heart, not the head. A Ghost Story is one of the grandest stories possible told in the most intimate way possible. It's the type of elegy for which any viewer could have a different spot to cry. (For me, it was the cross-cutting of the headphones between the expectant past and the grieving present.) The degree of difficulty was enormous--if you laugh the first time the ghost stands up and slinks around the hospital, then nothing else will work--and that's why the final product matters so much. 5. The Salesman (Asghar Farhadi)- I hope that college screenwriting classes are giving Farhadi his due since all of his films are marvels of incident and escalation. The thing that I admire most about his work is that no one is a villain: People are doing their best to survive with their dignity intact, and the conflict occurs because one person fails, honestly and realistically, in that regard. For most of The Salesman, we get a piercingly faithful depiction of the aftermath of a violent attack. Rana's fear is mixed with shame, and neither emotion gels with her natural need for privacy. But it's really through her husband Emad that we get something new. He tries to please her however he can, ignoring his own logic in an attempt to understand, and he gets frustrated when he can't accommodate her. Of course, both of them are actors, so their grief has layers: Their feelings are genuine, but they're performing for each other too. They're self-conscious to a fault, and especially when it comes to the police, they're more worried about how things will look to an outsider than what the actual right thing to do is.The play they're performing is Death of a Salesman, and, at first, it feels like nothing more than a concession to Farhadi's growing international audience. But there's common ground in Emad and Arthur Miller's trapped, tragic everymen. Emad conducts himself with the honor that his society instilled in him, even when it isn't a good fit. (For example, he patiently teaches literature even though he seems awful at it and his passion is the theater.) When he starts to break that mold--say, using his influence to ID a license plate--he actually does get what he wants for a while. But that fueling of his pride only increases his fall in the deliberate final section. He and Willy Loman were born to be victims. 4. Last Men in Aleppo (Feras Fayyad)- It's a bit undignified and short-sighted to lament a certain year in history--I doubt my grandfather ever tweeted "Ugh--1942 amirite." But 2017 was tough for me because the entire notion of having heroes to admire seemed to erode. Enter Last Men in Aleppo, which documents men who, despite the odds that they won't save anyone, despite the temptation to move somewhere else, knowingly enter bombed areas of Syria to try to rescue people trapped under rubble. The documentary isn't easy to watch in the sense that no one wants to see a lifeless baby lifted out of wreckage. But watching it from the safety of my home is the least I can do, not only to remind myself of the sanctity of my physical safety but to remind myself that human beings are inherently good. These guys are my heroes. INSTANT CLASSICS

3. Phantom Thread (Paul Thomas Anderson)- Reynolds Woodcock watches from the top of the stairs as each of his employees reports to work. They defer to him with a head-down greeting, and he then goes to breakfast. There's control there in an obvious sense: the imperious way that he clocks them in. But he shows power over them in other ways too. He lives at the House of Woodcock, so there will never be a situation in which anyone else can get there earlier than he can--no one can ever appear more devoted. And presumably they had to eat before they came, whereas he can luxuriate with his tea in his privileged silence until he deigns to inspect their work. In just that one example of characterization, there's more unsaid than there is said, and the whole film has that sort of explorable depth. Phantom Thread, lifted by a lush Jonny Greenwood score, is a spellbinding puzzle that will require multiple viewings, but I don't mean that it's ever unclear about what happens. You can explain its events clearly, just as you can explain the major events of your life clearly, but that doesn't mean you understand every reason for what happened to you, now or ever. At the same time, Paul Thomas Anderson is able to access minute, direct emotions. I'm reminded of the painful clarity on Daniel Day-Lewis's face as Reynolds's new wife chews loudly, and he knows that he's stuck with that sound forever. That expression elicited some laughs from me and the other assorted men by themselves in the theater, but it was one of the several moments pitched at such an acute and strange angle that we weren't sure how to react. Was it okay that this gothic romance, as chaste as it is nasty, was also silly? That's the magic of the best filmmaker in the world: After all this time, he's still giving us things we don't even know how to watch.

2. Dunkirk (Christopher Nolan)- Just when we thought we were done with cinematic experiences, Christopher Nolan proves that we aren't. For me at least, Nolan has always been caught between his cold tactician side and his sentimental populist side. When he has faltered for me, it's because he ventured too deeply into the latter, and Dunkirk is his most objective, observant, dispassionate work yet. Can't hear the dialogue from the sound mix? Well, there isn't much dialogue. Think that he can't write women? Well, there aren't any women. This feels like the film that he has been waiting to make in order to silence any critics who might be left. Auterism aside, what we're left with is a sincere heart-stopper powered by a downright experimental score and precise editing. How much faith do you have to have in yourself and your audience to cut away from someone in the act of drowning? There are three macro stories here--land, sea, and air--but the true empathy comes from the micro. A man walks into the sea to a certain death, a boy might or might not lock a door, one soldier accuses another of being a German spy. It adds up to something that elicits emotion from us without begging for it.

1. The Florida Project (Sean Baker)- In the office of Willem Dafoe's Bobby, there's an upside-down remote control sitting in a cup. Affixed onto that remote is a piece of masking tape labeled "NEEDS BATT." My eyes were wandering during the scene--I don't think I was supposed to notice the prop--but it's the type of lived-in detail that proves a) Sean Baker knows this world, and b) this location is totally real. In many ways the characters of the film are like that remote: Sometimes they work, but mostly they sit in their container, hoping for the inspiration that could power them to their potential. Often Baker's presentation of the action is like a remote control too. He switches over two or three times to Moonee playing in the bathtub, but it takes a while for us to orient ourselves to the tragic reason why that's going on. He often flips us to something, then expects us to catch up to its significance. Willem Dafoe is, as far as I know, the only professional actor in the cast, but he is as free of artifice as the children are. Bobby's a mediator, protector, and administrator, but the film doesn't let him off the hook just because he's male/White/adult/employed: He doesn't have his shit together either. It's one of the film's best tricks, painting him as the one in control when his son has lost patience with him and he still hasn't fixed the ice machine. Is he a good man, or is he just the smartest kid in a remedial class? Some people will gripe about the ending, but, as I squinted through tears, I thought it captured the spirit of the rest of the movie well. As harrowing as some moments are, as pitiful as some of the characters' struggles can be, daily life provides so much room for joy. I thought Baker's Tangerine showed promise, but I was hesitant to declare him the next important auteur, as many people were doing. I'm ready to do that now.