#i am always happy to discuss characters in BROAD STROKES

[saras-almanac]

So I know that this is technically the first season of this show where we know going in to season 8 what the storylines will be--at least in general broad strokes and I am so excited! There's literally so many different ways things can play out and I can't wait!

Bobby and Athena -- I actually feel like as a relationship we didn't see this develop much because they literally went from like a date in season 1 to making out in between fire trucks in season 2 and engaged a few episodes later so I absolutely loved the idea of Athena's fear in season 7 of "What do we have when we're not running around?" I hope that they explore that a little more in the idea of "What does our life look like if/when we're not working?" Plus Bobby not being Captain anymore is such an interesting personal story because he literally only came back to being a Captain because he felt like he had a debt to pay. But now it's up to him to really choose whether he still wants to be an active captain or not... (Obviously he won't be Captain forever and I have Thoughts on where I want these characters to go lol) But the comedy gold of him being a tech advisor on a show is hilarious and I genuinely wouldn't be upset if it lasts a long time and then the actor keeps showing up at the fire house after the fact.

I am not a huge fan of Athena's storylines because it's really hard to root for cops in general but also she has abused her power so many times with no thoughts, but maybe MAYBE this idea with reuniting with that man from her past could be a change of, hey things are not as black and white. (I still understand why they framed Athena begins the way they did, but I think it would have been a much bigger impact to have let the man go because he turned his life around and became such a positive influence. But that's just me.)

Also give them more comedy storylines! The cruise ship stuff is one of my favorite things ever with Athena trying to solve a murder but also not wanting to be left alone with Bobby while Bobby is like "I think my wife is avoiding me." Comedy gold and I loved it. Give me them moving in to a neighborhood with HOAs and ridiculous neighborly gossip that they're always investigating and spying but like the lowest stakes possible. (Like the garbage spying Bobby and Michael did that one episode, just not always leading to a secret underground plastic surgeon.) Just give them fun stuff to do. Please.

Hen and Chimney -- I absolutely that this season is set up to sort of test that relationship in a way. Because Chimney and Maddie took in Mara as the sweetest thing to do, but how do they manage this now that Mara is putting down roots. I feel like this is something that is going to lead to a lot of emotions on both sides because Chimney's not trying trying to take Mara away but I also feel like that's going to play on the fears / feelings of Hen and Karen not having security with their children. (But it will be a happy conclusion with Mara back at Henren's as a family because I will be sad if it becomes this idea of "maybe Mara is better off with Madney" just because Henren have gone through that so many times!)

Maddie and Chimney--would love to see them talking about the future of their family, are they having more kids, do they even want more kids? They've never talked about it and I think taking Mara in is the perfect excuse for them to bring it up, have those discussions that I feel like they've never been that great at having. And give them the wedding reception they deserve! Just let them be happy and in love.

Eddie... what can't the do with Eddie this season? Of all the characters, he has had the least amount of growth / development in the show. He's stagnant, unchanged, which isn't necessarily a bad thing but it's that he's been put in situations where there should have been some growth or change but it's never actually happened. I still think of Lena calling Eddie out on being a terrible friend (which is why I actually don't think he hangs out much with the rest of the firefam because he is incredibly self-centered so much and completely unaware of it.) I really want this separation with Chris to force him to deal with Shannon's death and everything that led up to that--he ran away from his responsibilities as a parent and a partner, he just moves passed anything that's difficult for him until it seemingly works out again, or just acts like nothing's wrong. I just want to see some development for him--I'd take anything at this point lol. I want him to acknowledge his flaws and failings and then work through them, because that's where the story lies--whether that's through reconnecting with his religious roots or deconstructing, or intensive grief counselling and therapy. And no romantic relationships for him this year. Part of his growth NEEDS to be that having a romantic partner is not going to "fix him" or "cure him" and apart from having sex with the women, he never seems to be happy in those relationships. Now that could be him being aromantic or just putting way too much pressure on every relationship to immediately be lived in and like his rose-colored view of his marriage to Shannon--which shockily doesn't happen because the women are not Shannon?

Buck, my boy, I am so excited for this season for him! I feel like they might be leaning into the potential of an ADHD diagnosis for him--just purely based on the slow-mo, overstimulated shot of the camera slowly zooming in on his face. And the idea of that on top of him just realizing and discovering his bisexuality could be a really interesting storyline to explore. Sort of a parallel to Buck Begins of him "not knowing what being Buck means" again but different. It's less he doesn't know who he is but he's just gotten so much new information about himself and he's struggling to place the pieces and how much that changes his perception of himself--if it does.

Add that to his new relationship with Tommy, the story that could come of that! Or literally any potential hurdle a new relationship deals with. They were both so open and vulnerable when they had that conversation but it's not a stretch to think that Buck might pull back a bit from sharing that stuff with Tommy because he's so terrified of being too much and/or being abandoned. And even if Tommy tells Buck he's not, there's a very good chance that Buck just won't be able to believe him. Or their hurdles could just be general communication issues or realizing they have different communication styles or moving in together. Or it could be the giddy excitement of being in this new, fun relationship might mean they've moved away from some of those more heavier topics. So many options!

The absolute only thing I don't want is any form of jealousy on Tommy's part that's because he's dating a bisexual. I don't see them going that route and how regressive and bi-phobic it is, but that's my least favorite thing ever in the limited bisexual representation we have and that would genuinely upset me. Totally fine if Tommy has jealousy based on his insecurities--like why would Buck be serious about him, maybe it's too soon to settle down, maybe it's just Buck is so effortlessly charming that it's sometimes hard for Tommy. All totally fine, even if I would prefer that to not be the case.

All this to say, I'm so excited and literally want to both see how this season plays out and also write every version of this!

[bageltopia]

may I ask how you plan out your fics? I’ve been wanting to get back into writing, especially for multi chapter fics, but I’m not quite sure how to approach it. I’ve always liked the structure of your fics so I was just wondering if you have any tips! Thanks!

hello, sorry this took a while to answer! but sure, i’d be happy to share and thanks for enjoying my fics!

first: this is something that differs from a couple other writers, but i never think of my fics as i’m writing them as “multi chap” fics in the traditional sense. i just think of it as one cohesive story, and then decide as i go (or after the first draft is done) how best to break it up the sections into chapters in order to best serve the story. i’m just not a “release the chapters as they’re written” person, and that is something that really colors my writing and planning process. i find this allows me the greatest degree of control over my storytelling. if i decide something from the beginning is no longer flowing or serving the story the way i want it to, i can go back and adjust it as many times as i want because it’s not published yet.

i also am NOT a discovery writer when it comes to longfics. for shorter things - let’s say anything 15-20k or under - i often let the plot make itself known to me, but for longer ideas, i like to plan.

but i know other writers operate differently, so YMMV!

i wrote a lot more on this than i thought i would, so rest is under the cut

as far as planning - i often start with a huge infodump doc where i just write a bullet-pointed steam of consciousness for all of my thoughts/screaming/inspiration/mental breakdowns lol/etc. after that’s all out, i organize it into different plot points that i want to address.

if you’ve ever looked into the way tv shows are written, i like to plan my longer ideas around a somewhat similar framework - there is the A plot, the B plot, the C plot, etc. maybe even a D or E depending on the show, running as a through line across all the episodes. and since this is fan fiction, one of those plots (if not the main one) is almost always going to be the romance between the main pairing, unless you’re writing gen fic. i personally like to add other story-driven elements in addition to the romance that allow me to add character development, mystery, excitement, intrigue, etc.

i’ll use Lightning’s End, my 52k lusan fic, as an example here. i only had 2 major plotlines that i thought of for that fic. 

A = sanji developing + realizing his feelings for luffy

B = the island they land on and the mystery of it (and how it conceivably grounds the work in canon)

these two things unfolded pretty concurrently in LE, but they might not always!

i like to weave the 2 elements together, decide how they interact with one another, and then actually put together the events of the fic - sketch out what actually is going to happen and how. i don’t really do intensive scene-by-scene outlining other than when i’m in the actual writing process, but i want to know any broad strokes before i put pen to paper!

for LE, i can distill this down in “chapter 1” (or the first 10k) as: the storm sweeps sanji + luffy overboard >> they stargaze and have an emotional breakthrough discussing their pasts >> they find out they’re not alone on the island.

when i actually start writing, i decide what actually is concretely happening in the scene, where they are, what little things each character is doing in the moment, etc.

i also keep a running log of little details i want to remember to sprinkle throughout; anything funny, sweet, inspiring, angsty. physical or behavioral characteristics i want certain characters to have, etc. so i can keep track of them and remember to make them consistent. some of these even end up becoming motifs for the story!

in a nutshell, i like to approach longfics from a big —> small view. decide the plot points, construct the conflict/resolution for each, decide how each of those individual conflicts play into each other, and then decide the scenes and details.

for Lightning’s End, weaving the 2 plot points together got me to 5 chapters at 52k total. for moonlighters, i had a lot more plot points—that themselves required more exposition and development—to get through. approximately 5 or 6, according to my notes, and then i went through the process of making sure they were all interwoven throughout each of the scenes and events i had planned or written. circling back to make sure each of my scenes were always serving one or more of these plots was key for me.

i’ve talked a little bit on discord and twitter of the notion project i’ve made for moonlighters haha…if you happened to have seen that:

i want to make it clear that notion was only ever a tool for me to organize these thoughts that i was already putting into practice from my previous multi chap fics, just in a way that was a lot more regimented and trackable. and highly tailored to me and my planning process. you could probably accomplish the same thing on google sheets, or docs, or excel, or even on pen and paper. i just happen to like notion’s system :D :D

[brittlebutch]

neo i clicked on ur link to With the Light and binge read like half the series for the past 4 hours. PLEASE tell me ur thoughts abt this series im in love with it !!! the framing of hikaru's issues as inherently blameless is amazing to see, and the focus on letting hikaru enjoy what he likes and letting him choose/listening to all the ways he communicates made me so happy. the way sachiko firmly refuses to let people be ableist or mistreat hikaru is so refreshing, and her patience and intentional care and observation ends up encouraging other people to stand up for themselves and build a lovely community of support and acceptance. i especially liked the incisive way they address people's condescending attempts at caring (the parents' talking down to sachiko, the teacher offering to make the races have no winners, etc). im so glad u posted abt this, i definitely never would have found it otherwise, and i would Love to hear ur thoughts ^_^

Dude!!!! I am so glad that you had read this series and enjoyed it, I'm SO thrilled that I finally was able to find a site where I could recommend it to people! I could spend hours talking about every single minute detail of this series that I love -- if I tried to talk about it here, I'd probably break the text box lmao. I keep trying to break it down to broad strokes and failing, I love the characters, I love the narrative, I love the educational aspects and the way it handles all these different topics and the fact that throughout the series, the thing that always comes through the loudest to me is a deep felt love of Autistic people and the Hope that one day the world as a whole will change to accept us as we are.

Hikaru isn't the POV character, but this series never falls into the mistake of forgetting that he is a character. There's no Symbolic Representation here (see Jessie Gender's video on this topic for more on that); Hikaru isn't just a walking DSM checklist of autistic traits -- he is a full person with likes, dislikes, interests, friendships, and even with his autistic traits, they're unique and specific to him instead of a broad attempt to make him carry the whole of the spectrum on his shoulders. (That's one of many aspects where I think the choice of narrative really works for the series -- having one family move through a variety of different schools, services, and organizations means that there's ample opportunity to introduce a wide range of characters that can highlight different traits, behaviors, and points on the spectrum without it being overly pointed or confusing).

And the series is always sympathetic to his perspective; we never really get into Hikaru's head, but the characters and the narrative still absolutely ooze an empathy for his experiences throughout the series. The characters often talk about not only the stress of having autistic children, but the stress of being an autistic child. They talk about sensory experiences as being overwhelming and painful, they identify the struggle to identify your surroundings as scary, discuss how frustrating it must feel to not be able to express yourself effectively. Sometimes it's speculative -- although they do also sometimes talk about having read things that actually autistic people have written about being autistic, but the core empathy is always present. Even when discussing something frustrating or dangerous (a mother talking about how her daughter sometimes tries to run into the street because she likes the white painted lines on the road), they still often take the time to consider and empathize with their children's point of view ("If the whole world was confusing and overwhelming, then it must be a relief to find something to look at that always stays the same").

and YEAH i love the way this series handles communication. Again, the narrative works in its favor on this topic, because Hikaru doesn't have to be someone who uses a shit tonne of different communication methods; they found what works for him and stick with it, but can also talk to other parents/educators about all the options that exist out there. The series goes into depth about a lot of different methods of communication, all of which are celebrated and accepted - deliberate use of direct speech, more abstract use of verbal speech, PECs cards, AAC technology, written directives and lists people can point to, type to talk, nonverbal gestures, body language, etc.

But to me, the most important conversation about communication is a moment when Hikaru's elementary school teacher Aoki is talking about another autistic student in his class. He is talking to the children's mothers, and pulls up his sleeve to reveal an injury on his arm from where Miyu bit him -- "Whenever I see this, I realize that I'm not communicating with Miyu-chan in a way she understands". Not only is Miyu "Allowed" to bite without being punished, but the biting itself is not dismissed as an aberrant "bad behavior" that needs correction, but is correctly identified as a method of communication that the allistic adults around her need to listen to. Miyu cannot talk and she's too little to read or write, she can only communicate her frustrations in the few, limited options available to her -- until she's able to learn how to express herself in more effective ways, it's important for the people around her to pay attention and actively listen to the ways through which she can express herself -- including in strange or "inconvenient" ways, such as biting.

And the very deliberate ways they teach Hikaru how to communicate is also Super fucking important. It's really significant to me that the first things Sachiko wants to work with Hikaru on are 1.) How to express needs/wants and 2.) How to tell her "No". For the series to correctly identify that the ability to tell someone "No" is not only a right, but an absolutely vital life skill is SO significant. Not only does Sachiko accept the idea that Hikaru will tell her no, she takes deliberate steps to teach him how to do so. The series goes into depth on how Sachiko (and Hikaru's other caregivers/educators) help teach him how to correct them when they screw up, how to ask for things he needs and reject things he doesn't, how to set his own boundaries and communicate his needs and dislikes -- no matter what that communication looks like.

I love that the series and the characters' main focus is never on getting Hikaru to "fit in" to society, but to figure out how to live a life that works for him, that allows him to be as independent as possible, no matter what other people think about how it looks for him. Another really important moment in the series for me is when Hikaru's grandmother is saying that the progress he's made since he was a small child isn't good enough, and when she asks "What happens to children like him?" Sachiko is absolutely stalwart when she says "He'll grow up, and become a young man with autism" and DUDE i love that so much. Not a single hint of the notion that he'll either be infantilized forever or somehow grow out of his autism, it fully embraces the fact that he'll be an autistic adult and remains adamant that that's a good thing!!!

Again, I could talk about this forever. I love that the series always empathizes with Hikaru's meltdowns and never just dismisses them as "tantrums", and when other characters talk about meltdown prevention, it's never in terms of "Well, we need to figure out how to force Hikaru to get used to X", it's always in terms of "I should have realized he was reaching a breaking point before things got that bad; we need to help Hikaru learn tools to calm down and make sure he knows how to establish boundaries and leave situations that aren't good for him". With the right adults, Hikaru is always able to leave an overwhelming situation and not return until he has decided he's calm enough to try again - no one pushes him to recover faster than he's ready to. I think there's one scene in the entire series when two adults who don't know what they're doing try to restrain Hikaru during a meltdown, and every other time Hikaru reaches that point, the other characters make sure to give him ample space to calm down without overwhelming him further.

I love the ways this series handles ableism in all of its forms. It addresses ableism that comes from ignorance, from malice, and from places that are "well-meant" in really educational and helpful ways. I love love love the way the series normalizes disability when explaining it to children -- there's a few moments throughout the series where other kids mock Hikaru, but the adults handle it so wonderfully. The "Hikaru struggles to talk the same way you struggle to run a marathon" explanations do so much to make disability just a normal thing, instead of some awful secret that you're never allowed to address directly. I think it's really wonderful.

I think this post is getting too long, tumblr is getting mad at me lol. There's still so much I'd love to talk about: I love how the author includes so many lovingly illustrated panels of Hikaru stimming, I love that his family is allowed to be frustrated without that frustration ever coming across in a way that demonizes Hikaru, I love the relationship that he has with his younger sister, I love all of the friendships that he's made and maintained since he was a toddler, I love the "It takes a village" approach that really highlights the significance of having a good support system, and I love all the different people that come together to help teach Hikaru and make sure that his dignity and independence are always prioritized. I love the little details of Hikaru's character like the way that he's really good at identifying/taking care of plants, and his love of dolphins, and the way he repeats the things his friends say to him to hold onto the thoughts after they go home/back to class. I even love how some of the teachers that Hikaru has in school aren't always great at their jobs (I actually think the Gunji-sensei arc is one of my favorites in the whole series), and I love all the side characters that the series introduces us to, and the care that the author has when educating readers about autism and all the different aids/accommodations that can make life easier and less frustrating/painful.

UGH I really do love this series so much, I'd happily keep talking about it and answering questions about it for forever! If my ramblings have encouraged anyone else to give the series a shot, I'll leave you with this: the first two chapters are the hardest to get through because Sachiko and Hikaru are extremely isolated and Sachiko does not understand what Autism is yet -- if you're hesitant about it, you can skip to chapter three where things start to look up a little more sharply and start there instead, and please continue to read through the rest of the series. It's truly one of my favorite autism medias of all time <3

[terrainofheartfelt]

Sort of inspired by your discussion of Jenny needing to go to London alone to really grow into herself and mature as a person, in an ideal world in which none of the main characters were forcibly tethered to the UES or its more toxic inhabitants post-high school, how do you generally - like broad strokes - imagine them developing as people in college and throughout their twenties? I always wonder where everyone might have ended up had they not been constrained by the type of narrative they were living in, and I’d love to hear any headcanons you have on the subject!

I've been thinking about this on and off since i received it (an embarrassingly - for me - amount of time ago) and now finally feel like I can answer.

because, like, what if we weren't constrained by the harsh realities of making tv? what if the rules meant that they could leave new york?

well, first, let's dovetail off jen moving to london and blossoming, and send eric along with her. he can go to cambridge, or any of the other big name universities in the area, and he and jenny would be flatmates and live their own hilarious queer sitcom of being students in london.

I've already plugged nads' yale au in my answers this evening, but I still really like the idea of dan and blair attending yale, and outside of the maelstrom of manhattan drama, they settle into their own selves and learn they could actually...like each other? and then they fall in LOVE as far as careers, they are the most driven. and we've talked about novelist dan and editress blair and art historian blair and college prof dan.....but lately I've been thinking about blair working in costuming. It's not high fashion design, but I think it's a great synthesis of the things we know blair loves: literature, film, history, art history & fashion history, Evil Dictator of Good Taste, being a specialist and big boss on a niche subject...yeah...

i still enjoy the idea of vanessa being at nyu, or at another arts college in nyc, and making her own way and building her own story (without being boxed in to the secondary character of anyone else's story!) I like the idea of her attending Tisch too, and expanding her skill set into screenwriting in that way.

to plug another au by a friend, S's goodbye stranger introduced the concept of Serena attending Berkeley, and I LOVE it. I love that for her. Berserk-ley. I think that school in that part of the country would be where Serena would really thrive. She becomes a full glamorous SF queen. perhaps she opens a coffee shop. Blair is outwardly mortified but inwardly very proud.

As for Nate, I think he is the character who really should take a gap year. It's never questioned, but the way he is yanked around by the collar those first two seasons, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that nate would decide that he needs some time to figure out what it is he wants. sidebar: bc the serena gap year felt disingenuous in many ways, yk? serena was so eager to leave new york and go to school and study. she likes learning, we see it, and the opportunity to reinvent herself that college would provide....why would she walk away from it? except for TV Reasons. so, I like the thought of nate taking at least a year. traveling, volunteering, maybe he takes a community college course or two. he falls off the grid for a while and he realizes how healthy and how happy he feels without the constant eyes and pressure of his family & gossip girl. and after that time, he's found what he actually wants to do, and goes to school to do it. -- as always, I'm fond of nate working in health care, as a nurse or pt or something, but it could really be anything. teacher? chef? social worker? children's librarian? (actually culinary student nate has come up in convos with ivy & cherry before and I am into it.)

and uhhhhhh i guess chip wiskers can crash his inherited business and money into the ground bc lets be real that fucko would try to launch his own cryptocurrency and since he seems to hold such disdain for education and self-betterment, he stagnates and falls off the face of the earth byeeee

[limitlessscion]

‎ "—I had fun"

Tracking #LimitlessScion

Independent Satoru Gojo ∞ Jujutsu Kaisen Mutuals-only ∞ Duplicates and OC friendly ∞ Minors DNI Written by Cherry (They/Them/Any ∞ 30+ ∞ EST) Manga current + spoilers

By default canon-compliant in broad strokes, but portrayal + interpretation heavily influenced by headcanons and verse-specific interactions. An emphasis is placed on the agony of loneliness and being human in a world that denies your humanity.

Nav: about ∞ verses ∞ mun ∞ headcanons ∞ prompts

1 ∞ I have absolutely no tolerance for drama, I will not engage in or comment. My lack of engagement is not an indication of any opinion on the matter. Contact me privately if you need to hash out any issues.

2 ∞ I do best with ample plotting and discussion, my Discord is available to any mutuals upon request for such a purpose.

Mutual daydreaming about potential scenarios and relationship details until ideas for threads and interactions click into existence is the bread and butter of writing with me, and I thrive the most when I have many unique discussion points to feed off of when writing.

I am still happy to jump straight into interactions without plotting though!

3 ∞ Please do not make assumptions about my portrayal based off of fanon! There are many unique aspects about my Satoru that are very important to me and can diverge pretty heavily from popular interpretations. Please don't hesitate to ask me if you are ever unsure, I am always happy to explain, and in return I will always work with your own unique portrayal as well.

4 ∞ I think that the fact there can be so many different ways to interpret a character when everyone has the same starting material is a beautiful thing to be celebrated. I am happy to write with multiples of the same muse and each will be treated with the respect of being their own unique character.

I am also more than happy to follow other Satoru blogs if you are comfortable with it, and I do want to interact when given the chance.

5 ∞ Shipping: Your muses are allowed to have crushes on him, but please approach me with the assumption that he will likely never reciprocate in the right way. I love the idea of exploring flings or short-lived relationships that don't work out, but long term romance-like relationships are rare and only works if a lot of chemistry occurs naturally through interactions. I write Satoru as aro/ace and I do take the aromantic part of his identity seriously; it will affect how he approaches things.

I love all kinds of platonic dynamics, from friends, to antagonists and familial. All interactions regardless of the type of dynamic are in separate verses unless plotted otherwise

6 ∞ Dead Dove: do not eat. Many mature themes make potential and frequent appearances on this blog, due to the nature of the source material and just my preference in writing: I have a great love of writing violence and uncomfortable characterizations. I generally won't bother tagging the likes of violence and gore in prose, though I will tag any explicit visuals and things I have been asked to tag with "_ cw"

I won't be writing any explicit sexual content, but suggestive content including up to a fade to black might occur

7 ∞ My primary goal here is to have fun, and to make sure that my writing partner is also having fun. I'm really not picky on the length, formatting, grammar or whatever from my partner as long as effort is being put in and we're having a good time. I write as much as I feel like, I reply to things I have muse for, and I won't necessarily answer prompts I can't think of a reply to. I expect my partners to have the same freedom without any pressure to inform me.

I am happy as needed to drop threads, redo concepts, write short scenarios that only lasts a round or two; anything goes in the name of enjoying ourselves shamelessly.

Art Credit: all graphics used on blog are either official content or used with explicit permission

[Mobile banner] by mercuryartes

[space-blue]

1, 2, 3, 8, 9, 11

Great selection, this took me a long while to hunt down the answers! From the Fandom end of year ask.

favourite fandom you joined this year

Bit of a cheat because it's a 'sub' fandom, but I'll say Andor (star wars). Avatar is right there, yes, but it doesn't have the oomph of Andor. Avatar has a ton of missing character development, and if the world were more approchable, I'd see myself doing a lot of fix its and missing scenes. Andor is difficult on the other hand because it's so perfect. Hard to feel like I have anything to add to the fandom. But it's the one show I've been rewatching to death and having so much respect for.

favourite fic of the year 

This is basically impossible to piiiiick.

I'll mention Fathers & Daughters, even though it's my own, because you have to goddamn love a fic to spend more than a year slaving over it. And I dooo, and yes I AM working on the final chapter still, soz lol

The hottest smut I've read was Boundaries by Spiced, and well, I did nag about it when we discussed the idea, and it's a gift, but that doesn't change the fact it's the best :3 Very happy with it. It's hot by my ace standards. Basically very mindfuck focused. Fandom is Andor!

And then for multi chapter, I'm going to mention this absolutely insane and amazing FE3H complete fic To Those Who Are Never Going Home by MadameHyde. It's set after the game in an Empire win, where a lot of the Blue Lions find themselves teaching at Garrech Mach. I didn't read the tags so some reveals blew my little brain out of the water, it was amazing. Super prose, very character driven, really enjoyed it.

favourite fanart of the year

I thought this would be hard to answer, and then I realised it wouldn't be, actually, even if I'm cheating. BOTH these Maliketh fanarts have been my screen backgrounds for MONTHS. This one is on my phone and on my better Discord :

And this one is my laptop background :

They're dope and Maliketh is top pubber and I'm still obsessed with him. He's peak design and radiates blorbo energies. He's broken and I wanna fix him and pet him and--

favourite author of the year

@spicedrobot That one isn't too hard. I've read a LOT of their work this year, by vertue of doing a lot of beta swaps, and because they write some very delicious ships. They are responsible for 99% of my smut intake in 2022. Also I think it says a lot about an author that you can beta them every other day and never get tired of their unhinged content. They're just that good. (They are in a constant state of wrangling me over my terrible comma game, so they're also very patient and could have strangled me a long time ago, yet they didn't!)

favourite creator of the year

Very hard choice, especially when it's so broad and I've already struggled with the fanart one… But I'm going to go with :

@aromansoul. I just really love their art, and finding them through a shared Silco obsession was delightful. They have a very unique style, with colours that seem to float and come in and out of focus. You'll be staring at a super rendered area and it's perfect, and then you look elsewhere and realise half the drawing is just broad strokes… Absolutely tricks my mind, it's delightful. Also they have some fantastic unique designs of their own content that I think are dope.

favourite OC you met this year

Ah, finally an easy one! Meet Rain Drenched Mountain. He's @scuttlebuttin's Predator OC and he's very sweet. I love his design, his lore, and I think he has great taste. Very handsome lad and each time I see more art of him I feel like a little kid. I mean, Scuttlebuttin is a big favourite artist, and where they're not in a very very distressing blood-gore-clown period, I'm always thrilled to see what they post. Just check out their Odin fanart for the new God Of War, it's out of this world!!

[dykeyote]

Hihiii I'm sorry I still don't know enough about your interests to ask any proper questions but this is once again an invitation to tell me about them ... your noir detective guy maybe. Or the fnaf lady :-)

OOOOOO OKAY NOIR DETECTIVE SO . juno steel is my beloved and i want to hold his face season three doesnt have him narrating the episodes as much and its VERY sad . like i understand why they do it as a narrative thing because the whole first two seasons are about him isolating and forcing himself to be alone so yk hes always Narrating we dont get out of his head because hes self isolating he keeps people at too much of a distance to really Know them and as such We dont really know them either so we cant get out of his head because Juno cant get out of his head either . but now we're getting to the FOUND FAMILY portion of the show so we get to see other perspectives and get adjusted to the carte blanche and hes still like There its not like hes totally gone we just see him a little bit less . BUT I MISS HIM i miss his silly little theme song i miss his silly little melodramatic ramblings i miss him making silly little quips at horrible times to varying degrees of success . juno come home the bed is cold without you . also hes like the only nb rep in media that ive seen (im sure theres more but not that ive really interacted w) that isnt EXCLUSIVELY like they/them and 100% androgynous not that theres anything Wrong with that representation its important to show . but its cool to see a chara use he/him and be called a lady it makes me go :O in a good way . and he reminds me of my girlfriend and that makes me happy . what else . his voice is pretty . what are other things to tell u about juno steel . what can u hear . REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT happens in season one and nobody talks about that like no spoils . but he gets powers for a sec before they go away and NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT its so weird to me . like that happened . and we all just gloss over it am i losing it . anyway im obsessed with him i dont talk about him as much as mr nureyev because i can like Analyze nureyev in a way i cant with him i can see into nureyevs little noggin he is my best friend i know him THROUGH AND THROUGH . but he makes me happy hes definitely one of my favorite characters in any media ever hes so silly (: :)

[txemrn]

What About Us?

I am participating in this week's @wackydrabbles prompt number 99: "How about once more--for good luck!" (Prompt will be in bold)

Warning: fairly fluffy with a smidge of angst

Word count: 1575 (+/-)

Song Inspiration: "What About Us?" by P!nk

A/N: It's another Royal Roulette! What is RR? It's simple! Set your music to mix, and be inspired by the first song that pops up! I'm super excited about this one because it worked out perfectly with my desire to write something in honor of 🏳‍🌈PRIDE🏳‍🌈 month! I hope y'all enjoy! Big ol' hugs and special thanks to @burnsoslow and @chemist-ana for pre-reading this! The characters, some of the plot and dialogue belong to our friends at Pixelberry

🌈

A pair of deep ocean eyes anxiously shift around the New York hotel suite. He chews mindlessly on his pink, raw cuticles while his crossed-legs bounce with nervous fury. His other hand casually back-combs his playfully-styled locks, raking them upward into melted spikes. But, luckily for Maxwell, his close friends are preoccupied with excitement; they don’t notice that he is adrift with his raging, thunderous thoughts. Although their pressing questions have been answered, Maxwell wanders aimlessly with a broken heart.

Thanks to their clever sleuth work and strong desire for justice, Tariq was found; and better than anticipated, after careful discussion, he was willing to come forward about the false accusations of his relations with Lady Riley. But, time was of the essence if they were going to stop the Cordonian royal wedding. Riley along with her press secretary Justin, Drake, Hana, the Beaumont brothers work quickly to decipher the next course of action: a public statement to be broadcasted during Liam and Madeleine’s wedding shower.

Hana gently places her petite, manicured hand on Maxwell’s shoulder. Her warm smile and endearing touch calm his outward erratic nerves. Peering into her bright chocolate eyes, a roaring sense of courage overwhelms his internal timidity; he now has his own plan.

“You’re with me, Tariq,” Justin delegates, clapping Tariq’s back. The sound of his name breaks Maxwell from his fog. “We’ve got an appointment.” Maxwell’s eyes track the men as they exit the room, his opportunity for his own justice walking away in a tailored Brioni suit. He thinks quickly; this can’t be it. He needs answers.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Drake stifles a yawn, turning towards the open door. “But I need some sleep before we go to this shower.”

Perfect. Now is Maxwell’s chance. “Yeah,” his voice cracks before clearing his throat. “My eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds.” Hopping from the tufted leather chair, Maxwell smooths out his slacks. He finger-guns the ladies, hoping his humor covers up his awkward eagerness to leave. And to get to Tariq.

“Justin!” Maxwell calls out from down the hallway, jogging to catch up to the two men. Leaning into Justin’s ear, he begins to whisper an inaudible request. Though he keeps his head bowed, fixated on his notecards, Tariq casually sneaks a glance at Maxwell.

“Right now?” Justin scoffs, “we don’t have time--”

“Please. Just for a minute.” Maxwell pleads, a wave of seriousness washing over his body.

Justin sighs, placing a hand on his hip, looking at his watch. “Alright,” he motions with his head, “my room. Five minutes. But, then we have to leave if we’re going to get this statement out on time.” Justin ushers an unsuspecting Tariq into his hotel quarters before leaving him alone.

Maxwell takes a deep breath, willing the waves of his churning stomach to cease. He grits his teeth into a smile as his racing heart returns from the clouds. He pops his knuckles one last time before heading into the room to face him.

Maxwell slowly makes his entrance, easing the door closed behind him. With his arms crossed, he leans against the entryway to a small, breakfast nook. Ensuring that his presence is known, he softly coughs as he watches Tariq’s reaction.

Tariq quietly looks out over the busy Manhattan traffic, not acknowledging Maxwell’s presence. He wrings his hands as his thoughts appear to wander.

“Well?” Maxwell starts, chewing on his bottom lip. Tariq rolls his eyes to Maxwell before returning to the view. Maxwell scoffs. “So, that’s it then, huh? That’s what this has come to?” He puts his hands on his hips as he begins to pace. "After everything we've been through--"

“Maxwell--” Tariq meekly whispers.

“And then," Maxwell interrupts, "to hurt my best friend, trying to take away her happy ending, too--?”

“Stop it, Max--” Tariq gruffly mutters.

“I mean, God, Riq!" Maxwell stops pacing, searching for the right words. "What did you think--no, what did you feel when you looked through that peep hole and saw me on the other side, knocking on your door?”

His question hangs in the air as Tariq turns towards an angry Maxwell. Relaxing his shoulders, he slowly steps closer. “Relief?” Maxwell shakes his head in disbelief at the answer. Tariq comes closer, cupping his hand on Maxwell’s face, gently stroking his thumb. “I had always hoped you would find me.”

Maxwell grabs his wrist to stop his tender touch. “Why, Riq? Just, why? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn't you call me--?”

Tariq sighs, walking back to the window. “Constantine.”

“What does he have to do with anything--?”

Tariq let's out a long sigh. “He saw us, Max--” he looks to Maxwell, widening his eyes. “He--saw--us. You know? That morning?” He clears his throat. “At Applewood--?”

Max gasps, his cheeks flushing like a wildfire. “He saw us?” He tries to hide his grin, covering his mouth with his fingers. “But--”

“I know,” Tariq runs his hands nervously through his hair. “Later that morning, he requested my presence, only to threaten to reveal our relationship to the entire court--” he swallows thickly, “--not to mention our families-- and to the world.” Tariq’s eyebrows knit with worry as he continues. “My only deliverance was if I followed through with his plan to eliminate the American competition--” he defeatedly sighs, “--what I did to Lady Brooks, ‘for the sake of Cordonia and the Crown’.”

“Riq, I--I had no idea--”

“He told me I could return after Liam was married, but why would I want to?” The storm clouds gather in his eyes. “He would always have the truth about me--about us--hanging over our heads, not to mention how everyone must feel about me, how everyone must be disgusted with me--” he catches his head in his hands as his sobs. “How you must feel about me…” he whispers.

Max kneels in front of Tariq, taking his smooth, broad hands into his own. His eyes sparkle with adoration as Tariq stares at the floor. “Look at me.” Maxwell presses his lips to Tariq’s knuckles. “It’s okay--”

“I’m sorry,” Tariq stumbles over his tears. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done against Ramsford, against you--God!” He grips tightly to Maxwell’s hands. “I’m so sorry what I’ve done against us--if there’s even still an us--”

“Shhh,” Maxwell hushes his cries. “Riq, do you remember the last time we were here?”

The corners of Tariq’s mouth curl, his swollen eyes meeting Maxwell’s gaze. “How could I forget?”

Both of the men chuckle as Maxwell touches his hand to Tariq’s cheek, his thumb wiping away his tears. “We talked about finally going public--”

“I know, I know. And Max,” he sighs, “I’m still scared. Of what people will--”

“No, no,” he interrupts, smiling kindly at Tariq. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“Before or after the third bottle of that cheap Merlot?” Tariq raises a mischievous eyebrow, squeezing Maxwell’s hand. Maxwell’s eyes grow dark with desire, giving Tariq a knowing look.

“This was definitely before,” Maxwell titters; but his tone quickly grows serious. “But, seriously? Do you remember Riq?” Tariq softly nods, lacing his fingers with Maxwell’s. “I mean what I said--and I still do.”

Tariq leans forward, resting his head against Maxwell’s forehead at the sound of his words. Closing their eyes, they cherish the moment, savoring each other in the stillness of being together. They’re hearts intertwine, beating as one, keeping perfect time and rhythm.

“I still love you, too, Max.” Lifting Maxwell’s chin up with the soft touch of his hand, their lips meet passionately. Maxwell slips his arms around Tariq’s neck, deepening the kiss. Tariq quietly moans into Maxwell’s lips, teasing them with his tongue as he pulls him into an embrace.

“Gentlemen?” A sudden knock at the door makes them jump apart. Justin appears, tapping on his watch. “We gotta go! If we leave now, we will make it--”

“Just-in time,” both Maxwell and Tariq groan. “We know. We know.”

Filing out of the room, Tariq takes Maxwell’s hand in his hand. Maxwell pauses, giving Tariq an inquisitive look, looking at their laced fingers before continuing comfortably down the hallway.

“I’m ready, Max--”

“I know you are.” Maxwell squeezes his hand as they stop to wait for the elevator. “You’re going to do great--”

“No, no--” Tariq raises their hands, kissing the back of Maxwell’s hand. “This. I’m tired of hiding. From court, from Constantine, from everyone. I’m ready for this. For you.”

“Riq,” letting go of his hand, Maxwell’s eyes flutter, blinking away a tear. “Maybe we need to talk more about this whenever we get home--because, oh boy, I don’t want you to feel any pressure, and you know, I’m willing to wait forever for you, you know that, right? I just want to make sure--”

Tariq steps up, pressing his hands against Maxwell’s chest. He leans in to place a gentle kiss to his supple lips to quiet his rambling. “I’m sure.” He smiles, mirroring Maxwell’s toothy grin. “Now,” Tariq continues, tapping on his lips with his finger, “how about once more--for good luck!”

Maxwell grazes his lips tenderly against his lover’s mouth before embracing him tightly. Leaning into Tariq’s ear, Maxwell lowers his voice: “we don’t need luck. babe.”

As the doors slide open with the chime of the elevator, Maxwell takes Tariq’s hand. Smiling at each other, the men step onto the lift and into their future together.

🌈

TRR Tags (please let me know if you need a status change in your tag! If you were forgotten, please forgive me! A clean-up is coming!): @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @yourmajesty09

[raisansgrapeon]

Ghostbur Through the Lens of War

When analyzing a text (text being used as a general term), it’s important to establish what lens your analysis is going to be run under. It helps specify thoughts and arguments under set pretenses and brings focus to the discussion. Instead of looking at an article or a story through broad strokes, using a specific lens focuses on one stroke and allows for deeper analysis to be achieved. 

It is safe to say that most of the Dream SMP is either seen under then lens of politics or mentality/interpersonal relationships. Viewing the story as a grand political battle and the consequences of the mighty leads us right down to the more specific lens of war. Yet, despite this common viewpoint under which we, as a community, digest the story of the Dream SMP, the character of Ghostbur is often left out of the equation in those terms, favoring to shed light on him for what he represents mentally. While his character is very much geared towards that line of thinking as an individual, his representation of innocents in the portrayal of war in the DSMP is nothing to scoff at.

The scale of the DSMP is far too small to truly represent the role of the common man within the cogs of war. With (at the time of writing) 31 characters within the story and a vast majority too disconnected from the story line to feel any real impact from the major players, we only ever really got to feel the way war impacted the warring factions and the leaders. The way war impacted countries as government system. The way war impacted the individual. We saw how war warped Wilbur and how war pitted father against son. We saw how war tore apart L’manburg because the leaders in charge never learned when to quit. We saw how abstaining from war left the Badlands relatively unharmed until a new external force came into play.

In all these instances, we see either the characters as individuals in positions of power, or the overarching bodies and governments that share the land, but we never see the people. The innocents trying to live life as best as they can under dire circumstances. Until, we look at Ghostbur under the lens of war as well. 

Ghostbur is a prime vessel to carry the weight of the general population and how war impacts the people caught in the crossfire. He is the essence of the common people living their life only to have it viscerally uprooted and destroyed by war and by ignorant leaders gunning for their own gains. This can be seen in nearly every aspect of Ghostbur’s character.

Starting off with what inspired this essay and these thoughts in general is Ghostbur’s conversation with Philza on the 6th of January. Within this conversation is where the most blatant characterization and solidification of Ghostbur as a representative of the people comes into play. The line, “I read the history books,” and Ghostbur recounting his warped idea of how Wilbur’s death came to be reflects on how history is written by the victors, and that is the version taught to the population. We are told of the great triumphs of the heroes of history, even if those heroes will never see themselves as such. The people are told of all the good that came out of a horrid historical event without the whole picture because details will always be lost within the wash of time. And during conflict between parties and during horrid events, Ghostbur continued to just live his life. He became the foundations of the country that those in charge put on the line. “...I just wrote books... I built a house for people... I built this town, just like I built Logstedshire...” Ghostbur built L’manburg and Logstedshire as places for him, as a representation of a community, to live. 

Even beyond this conversation, the way Ghostbur acts and how everyone interacts with him continues to support the idea that Ghostbur represents the innocents in war. Again, Ghostbur learns everything from word of mouth and history books. They are all skewed to paint a simplified version of events that leaves everything black and white, like how so much of history is formulated and taught. Ghostbur is always happy and cheerful and naive, chasing ideals and chasing that happiness. People just want to be happy. They just want to live their lives freely and enjoy it. Ghostbur covers the more mundane tasks of L’manburg, such as building aesthetic things or extra houses or the town center. When interacting with Ghostbur, everyone treats him like a glass vase. They fight to keep him complacent and content and happy. The way Phil talks to Ghostbur during their conversation, how Phil lies to him about Friend’s canon lives and Dream brings another Friend to keep Ghostbur complicit and feeling positive towards Dream, how everyone practically tip toes around him whenever something serious comes up.  They all talk to him softly, like a child. At least the way I see it as an American Citizen, the government is all to happy to leave the people thinking there is nothing wrong, and to actively keep them from getting too close to whatever the truth may be. All parties try to keep the innocents innocent and complacent.

And yet, “I sowed the seeds of peace, yet I am the one who pays for war.” The people always pay. The innocents always pay with their lives and their homes for those in charge to play their games. “You knew everything everyone owned was in this town.”  The greater powers at play, whether they be governments or leaders or what have you, know that in this land is where people live. They know, but they enact war anyway. The decimate their lands anyway. They blow up their homes anyway. They kill their loved ones anyway. 

Phil’s final, “...maybe you’ll understand someday,” is saying, “one day, you will look back on this day in history and see all the good it caused. One day, the innocents will move on. One day, the people will forget why they lost what they lost.”

And Ghostbur does.

---

A bit disorganized. I wrote this off the cuff so it’s more like a train of thought loosely formatted as an essay. I hope you all liked my small rant. I’ve been thinking about this for a while and just wanted to write it, you know?

Edit below the cut:

A small amendment to this post in retrospect in terms of one of my arguments and how I presented it along with some added hindsight and sleep, since I had written this at 2 in the morning.

This was spurred on by the tags of @asmoljay​ in their reblog of this post.

In their tags, they bring up the point that my argument on how people treat Ghostbur is placating and dismissive, mentioning that people are actually very confrontational with Ghostbur about Alivebur’s actions and its effect on them.

I will concede, my original claims are unfounded and far too broad. What I should’ve said, and what I have come to the realization of, is that Phil is placating and dismissive and trying to keep Ghostbur, for the most part, complacent. He never actively confronts Ghostbur about Alivebur’s actions and hardly has anything to say when Ghostbur brings up his death by Phil’s hands.

Overall, Philza is the only one engaging with Ghostbur thematically. He’s the only one playing into what Ghostbur represents, acting as a representation of the instigators of war to contrast with Ghostbur’s representation of the innocents.

I also feel I was a tad bit unclear as to why I was specifying that I was looking at Ghostbur through the lens of war. In doing so, I was taking a stance on Ghostbur’s thematic relevance and role in such an analysis and subsequently ignoring aspects of Ghostbur’s character that builds him up as that, a character. Looking through this lens, I am only looking at a small facet of how Ghostbur acts and interacts with the story at play. I am by no means disregarding how he works as a character or as a representation of guilt, unhealthy coping, drug use, etc. Ghostbur is multifaceted and I wanted to bring light to one facet that I found really interesting and didn’t really see anyone acknowledge. In the end, I am blatantly ignoring how different events feed into different aspects of Ghostbur as a character and bringing to light how other events pertain to him as a representation of a general populous and how that plays into the theme of war that is (or at the very least was) going on between Phil and Ghostbur.

Ghostbur isn’t defined by this characterization that I have illustrated, but it is certainly an interesting way to look at him under new context.

[1zashreena1]

I Am Having a Sad -9

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess has a bad and lonely self-esteem day. Diego goes too far too fast from 2500 miles away and she calls her safeword for the first time in her life. 

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

FEELS. the L word, SAFEWORD, depression/anxiety, self-esteem issues, sensory processing issues, sel-expression difficulties, plus size woman+fit man, soft!Diego,  overwhelmed Princess, is a relationship happening?? apparently. Leftover high school Spanish.

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​​​​ @symbiont13​​​​ @nicke0115​​​​ @bunnykjm​​​​ @rosee-sensuelle​​​​ @girlpornparadise​​​​ @mandoplease​​​​ @heresathreebee​​​​ @xxsteph-enrixx​​​​ @jetiikad​​​​ @joalsglasses​​​​ @mutantcookiesecrets​​​​ @demoncatstone​​​​ @squidlywiddly87​​​​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​​​ @poeedamerons​​

I am having a sad. This is normal and okay. I just have to wait it out. I do not need to text him. This pep talk would be more effective if you would stop staring longingly at the last selfie he sent you.

It isn't working. All you want right now is to be smothered in Diego but he is in a different time zone. And you don't want to be clingy. And demanding. And needy.

Surely making yesterday's selfie your new lock screen will help, right? 

With a big sigh you flop backwards into your bed. You eye your phone like it's a live grenade. It hasn't even been eight hours since the last text and. And you have this… pain? In your chest? What if I'm annoying him?

He has to be super busy, I should just wait. What time even is it in LA right now?

You snatch up the phone and check. 7:46 pm PDT. You wonder what he ate today. Did he have dinner yet? What shirt is he wearing? Does he have a headache? He always says he has a headache when he gets back to New York. And then you rub his head, stroke through his soft hair, stretch out his solid neck, break up all the adhesions in those broad shoulders.

Bitch, this is not helping. What do you hate about him?

Oh yeah, that list is blank.

You open up the text conversation and stare at the blinking cursor. Just one text can't hurt, right?

You look at the selfie again. He's in bed, deep plum sheet tucked up under his chin, all sleepy chocolate eyes and a soft little smile. His face is relaxed, leaning against his left hand. His beard is ruffled on one side, flattened on the other from where he must have slept on it. You can feel tears welling up again. 

How the fuck is he so gorgeous? Why is someone who looks like that sending me selfies? I have no right to this. I don't deserve this. 

You reach out and trace one finger down his cheek. His right dimple is visible under the stubble. Minimizing the picture, you go back to the cursor. The screen is blurry until you blink and one tear slips out. 

You type out one hasty 'hey' and hit send before you can quadruple guess yourself. This is stupid. He's too busy for your little drama queen hissy fit meltdown.

Sorry, should've asked if you're busy first 

Send.

Enough time passes that you flip the phone screen-down and plop it on your heaving chest. You bring both hands to your face and press into your closed eyelids. Just as you reach back down with a huge sigh the phone vibrates.

Princessssss. You know I'm never busy to you

You choke out a sob-laugh and try to breathe normally. Okay, now a decision. Idle chatter or metric fuckton of feels? While you waffle about it, Diego initiates a videocall. Oh, hell no. You jab 'Decline' so hard it bends your nail back.

What is wrong? Why can't I see you?

I just look like shit rn. Please don't 

That has never been true. Mi princesa bonita

Always quick with the compliments. You sniffle.

I just. I guess I just miss you. Tonight

Perfect, you hit send before could have deleted it. Great job. Wonderful. Brilliant. 

Is everything ok? This does not sound like sexytimes

Oh, Diego. 

Yeah, I'm fine. Mostly. I mean nothing is wrong, its just me

Just me having feels

… should you have sent that? Probably not. Do you regret it? Yes, instantly. In fact, if preemptive regret were possible you would already have drowned in it.

The phone is quiet for a minute. Good job dumbass, now he IS annoyed.

What kind? Sad feels? Headache feels? Work is stupid and frustrating feels? Huffy feels that require cheese? You have many feels. At all times. It sounds exhausting 

Yep. I'm annoying and clingy. You chastise yourself rather effectively.

You're right. Sorry. I got this

Does that sound bitchy? Is it bitchy? Oh my god, I need an off button.

Nonono. I asked. You have to answer. Its a rule

Your laugh is sharp. 

Since when do you care about rules lol

When they're your rules. We agreed to answer direct questions honestly, yes?

Well fuck. He got you there. You had agreed to that. When you two sat down in your living room after the Emotional Spanking*™ and had a 'groundframe setup' discussion. Sometimes you were fairly certain he mangled phrases just to watch your eye twitch violently. Little shit. 

OK fine. I'm feeling shitty about myself.  Happy??

Now that is bitchy. 

FORBIDDEN

And no, that does not please Diego

And is that why I exist? To please you??? 

Before you can stop it, your temper flares.

No Princess. The other way. Let me please you

Oh no. Oh shit. What. Is. Happening?? You are royally fucked now. This entire conversation has gone so completely off the rails that you can't even define a 'train'. Those little bouncing dots have not stopped yet.

Should I tell you how I miss you? How these stupid meetings and these stupid people and my stupid sister bore me when I would rather be listening to you read a dictionary? Or sing every word to every song ever played on the radio? Or explain the differences between cat breeds?

Or maybe I could say how ridiculously empty this bed is with only me in it. How there are no tiny socks hidden under the comforter. Not a single lip balm in sight.

Perhaps you need a list of everything I would touch. The soft lips. A little bitty hand. That tiny ribcage. Those thick thighs. With my beard, ofc. Your forehead with mine?

Oh. Ohh. Oh no. This is not fair. This is an attack. How did he just break me like this? Your face is flushed and you are crying outright now. You have to stop this right now.

Stop.stop please. Diego no

Diego yessss 

You can't take anymore. This isn't funny. You can't even form words. When autocorrect suggests the picture of a pineapple you stab it and then hit send in rapid succession.

Pinnaea🍍🍍

………………………...

Your phone emits one aborted ring then it cuts off.

Can I call? Please

You're trying to figure out a way to calm yourself, to stifle the heaving gasps and whiny sobs. You're nodding. Not useful, idiot, you scold yourself.

No video. Just talk. Please Princess

You can't say no to that when he is trying so hard. 

Ok yeah 

You barely see the message load on the screen when the ringing starts up again. Smacking the green button entirely too hard, you hold your breath to stop the pitiful sounds.

"Princess?" His voice is cautious, tone soft.

"I'm h-here." Is all you can manage. Any more and you'll burst into sobs again.

"Are you in bed?" Keeping it short and precise. Yes or no answers. Nothing too demanding. 

"Yeah. S-s-sitting." He is being so sweet. How is someone like Diego so sweet to you. Something rustles in the background. 

"What was it? A specific word? Or just too much?" His voice is hushed, like he might be in a small room…

"Are… are you in a c-c-closet?" Is he really…? You hold your breath.

"Si. Your closet is too small. I was going to send you a picture." He answers.

You absolutely cannot deal with this man. 

"Baby, I--" Your stupid soprano voice gives away how emotional you really are. He was going to send you a picture of a closet big enough for you to hide. Probably a panoramic shot so you could fully visualize it. Your chest compresses and you gasp.

"Princess? Talk. Make a noise. Something!" He sounds panicked. You suddenly remember he can't read your face this way. He can't see your pleased smile.

"That's. That's just. Diego, I love you so much." Its out before you can stop it. Even though you know he can't see it, you still hide your face.

"Love." He breathes softly into the phone. "Tell Diego what you need, my good little girl." His voice is quiet, controlled. He is letting you lead him where you want him. Everywhere. Forever.

You feel safe enough to actually confess, "I just have a, a really hard time believing… all of. That." You wave your hand in the air vaguely. "Not that you're lying!" You rush to clarify. "Just that anyone could actually like, well seems to, at least, everything…?"

"Did that make any sense?" You chew your lip anxiously.

His soft chuckle makes your stomach flip. "Well, it was technically English." Your snort sends him into quiet giggles.

"I like hearing you laugh." You whisper. He goes silent. You tense up.

"Perfect little princess. No one has ever told me that before. Most people are frightened of my laugh." He seems a little bewildered by his own words. Like he didn't mean for that to come out but now he definitely wants to hear the reaction.

You cover your smile, then pick up the phone so you can lie down. "Apparently I'm not most people." You feel around blindly until you locate TMP (Tiny Murder Panther) and tuck the stuffed animal under your chin for cuddles. "I like your voice, too. Like when you talk to me. Sometimes its just the words. Or rather my ingesting of them of that trips me up." Your quiet sniffle is hidden in silky black fur.

"The words are the problem? Do I need a, a…. The book with words that all mean the same thing." He bites out.

Sometimes you forget that English is his second language. Then things like this happen. And its fucking adorable.

"Thesaurus. Synonyms, baby." Your smile is audible.

"I know!" He huffs in mock indignation.

"I know you know. That's cute, though."

"So are your little 'aqui's and 'si's and 'ahora's."

"Fine! Gawd!" 

You both dissolve into laughter. It fades into easy silence while you rub your cheek over faux fur. 

He sighs gently into the phone. "Was it the forehead touching?" His voice trembles a bit, like he is unsure that he should have asked. As though afraid. A little overwhelmed, just like you.

"Um. Yes. Actually. That was. Yeah, that did it." You blink back tears. "We have a thing. We're a 'we'."

"That is what you want, yes?" Diego sounds cautious. As if he might accidentally utter an irreversible spell or something. Then, a quiet whisper, "It's what I want."

You suck in a deep breath and decide to just force it out. Just take what you desire. Jump already.

"I want you. I don't think a typical, um, relationship would work. But, people can define themselves. Relationships should operate the same way."

That… that actually sounded decisive and authoritative. Wow. You're really that bitch tonight, huh? You are very pleased with yourself. You can hear something sliding against the phone but can't identify the sound.

"There she is." The wide smile in his voice stabs directly into your heart. It was his beard rubbing the phone when he smiled. You laugh with his approval, pleasure burning through your veins.

"Maybe I can write some stuff down. For discussion purposes. Maybe you can write some stuff down for me. Reading it makes it seem more real to me."

"If that is your royal decree, Princess." He shuffles around, you can hear clothing rustling.

"Do you really like finding my orphan socks?" Your voice is sly, like a kid springing a trap question. He likes that smirky tone and you know it.

"They are cute. Just like the tiny feet. You are so very little, Princess." Oh, but he knows exactly how to flip the trap back onto you. The sound of muffled tapping comes through the line. "Tiny feet. Added to the list." His voice echoes the smallest bit, he must have you on speaker so he can access the note app. "Next item: fat ass."

You explode into guffaws. "Damnit Diego!" Your wheezing almost drowns out his husky laughter. 

"Wait! I almost forgot! Fan-tasss-tic. Rrrrack." He sounds out the words as he types them. You lose vocal control again, giggling like a child. Logically you know these juvenile jokes shouldn't be this amusing, but clearly you both have the same maturity level.

"Baby, you are my favorite pervert." Your declaration is met with haughtiness. 

"I had better be your only pervert, Princess." The possessive tone straightens your spine with shock. "You are mine!" He growls fiercely. 

Everything is quiet for a very long minute. You seem to have consumed every butterfly, hot sauce, and poprocks-and-cola mixture on the planet when you weren't paying attention. 

You think about all the gifts. Designer purses, specially tailored clothing, the six pairs of redbottoms you now own, how the last ring he gave you still twinkles up at you from your right hand (he took great pleasure in ensuring it fit your middle finger so you can still be pretty while you flip him off).

You remember all the places he has taken you. The Michelin starred restaurants, that hole-in-the-wall Mexican place where they know him by first name is your favorite, the stupid stores he wanders through with you, the cheesy tourist traps where he always gets you a hideously clichéd souvenir. 

Your memory flashes through a slide show of his laughter. Gleeful giggles at your horrified reaction to the neon orange lipstick he presented in Sephora. His wheezing delight when you gagged on the seaweed appetizer he shoveled into your mouth before you could object. The gentle, knowing chuckle when you pulled TMP out of your bag to take a nap two weekends ago.

You realize he is entirely correct.

"Yes I am, Diego." Is your quiet confirmation. 

"Bicki. I." He seems startled. You stay silent and let him gather his thoughts. The swallow is audible before he continues hesitantly, "I will see you this weekend, mi amor?"

All the ways this man says 'I love you' are so many more than just the actual words. Your pleased smile stretches your cheeks so far it hurts.

"Yes please!" Your shameless request ends in a yawn. "Sorry." 

"You need to sleep for work, Princess. I have one last meeting here then I will be there tomorrow." 

You wish he was here now but keep that to yourself. 

"OK, let me know when you're here." 

I am so not wearing panties under that new maxidress for the flight up and demanding that he pick me up personally. Yes. A perfect plan. You amuse even yourself with your scheming.

"Be careful tonight, Diego. I want you to come home to me." The thought of anything happening to him crushes your throat.

"I, I want that, too. Love you." All comes tumbling out of him in a rushed confession of quiet hopefulness. It makes you so happy that tears well up again. Fucking stop this, woman.

"Love you. Bye, baby." You whisper warmly, hoping he can feel even an ounce of how deliriously happy he makes you.

"Goodnight, Princess." The reply is sighed, full of self-conscious relief and pleasure. His rough voice is so calm and soothing that you nod off before the line disconnects, face tucked into his miniature proxy.

…………………………...

Incoming text

Friday 12:09am

From: Murder Panther

🥰💋💟💯🔜

[real-sotenbori-hours]

Madness Among the Maddest - Loki x Fem Reader * smut * - Part 1

Summary: The Grand Master is tired of you sneaking around Sakaar without his permission or understanding of what you’re doing. Since you refuse to explain yourself, he’s sure he knows just how -or who- can get you to talk.

 Warning: NSFW, smut, multiple orgasms… y’know how it is.

 ***

You were tougher than nails and feared nothing. Pain didn’t motivate you, nor intimidation. Your resolve was as ardent as Mjolnir itself, save for one thing nobody’d yet discovered. Your reputation sang of your ability to withstand adversity, your very existence indomitable in every sense of the word. Known all through The Nine as an unbreakable force, your power was complimented by your innately sultry character, your mere presence a source of magnetism. Unbreakable to all... 

 ...but bendable by One.  

 For centuries, you’d traveled between planets, in search of the perfect civilization to dominate. Taking intel and research from every corner you visited, you’d deliver the information to your cohorts and the group would continue to deliberate. You could build your own society, but why bother? When you’re physically and philosophically sound in every fundamental form, all that’s left to be desired is a designated place to originate from.  

 Until Sakaar.  

You’d discovered a seemingly unknown porthole that could commute you from one end of the galaxy to another, rendering Sakaar as a geographically perfect checkpoint destination. You’d been using this thoroughfare for decades, quietly pillaging while keeping an eye on the Grandmaster’s dog and pony shows and other successes, namely his out of town guests. You were however unaware that the GM had been keeping a vigilant eye on you as well, and was patiently awaiting your most recent return.  

 That’s how you found yourself immediately before him, magnetically bound to the GM’s signature submissive chairs. Via his whimsical interrogation methods he pried, asking the nature of your origin, motives, etcetera. You shrugged the best you could within your restraints and uttered not a word. Quickly flustered, he summoned his melting scepter beside your cheek, slowly emitting heat to your skin. You can call a bluff in your very bones, so you smile. The heat intensifies and you remain strong in your silence. The GM continues to illustrate the physical torture waiting for you outside his chambers and to that, you let a small, faint yawn escape your lips. Just then Topaz leans into the GM’s side with an urgent whisper. A second passes as he murmurs with delight and intrigue, writhing rhythmically to his own tune of thought as it materialized on his face. He had a plan.  

 So, there you are. Still clad in your black protective leather armor, you’re relieved to remain in what’s comfortable, even if your accommodations are horrifying. Looking around, you find yourself in the strange, striped circular loophole dungeon that houses the bodies (both living and dead) of the GM’s Prisoners With Jobs. On your left, you see the vaguest silhouettes of Korg and a couple of less identifiable beings, their voices low and fuzzy as if the volume’s turned way down. On your right, more distant voices crowding like a contained hum.  Confusion begins to tease you as you contemplate the reality that you just might be inside a cell within a cell, a hole within a loophole. 

 As the very question begins to form in your mind, a projected message from the GM appears right in front of you, giggling feverishly as he informs you that you won’t be able to hear or communicate with anyone, as he’s putting a kibosh on your eavesdropping and ultimately, the gathering of intelligence... along with your shameless shoplifting of goods from his sacred planet. Oh and on a final note: he has a weapon even you might not be a match for, and in your surrender to this weapon, you will reveal everything he asks.  You smirk. 

 A good challenge has never failed to entertain you in your many centuries of life, trials and tribulations. You’ve seen and felt, pursued and exhausted everything in The Nine and yet player to player combat still enthralls you most. What a wondrous existence. Your ability to resolve and conquer keeps things interesting, as it should. Existence is all about experience, testing limits from every angle and making note of it all. You seldom say no to something you’ve not had the chance to analyze. All for the sake of knowledge.  

 Slowly yet suddenly, your contemplation is interrupted as the invisible walls of your cell dim to a dark, cloudy gray and a figure appears as if through a mist. Interesting. You stretch your legs out in front of you, crossing them at your ankles. You lean back, reclining for the next act about to unfold before you. Just a few feet ahead stands a vision in black and green, of alabaster skin, raven hair and a smirk nearly as enigmatic as your own. A vision of dark to light, stark and alluring. Interesting indeed.  He takes one step toward you and stops, breathing in a sigh punctuated by a playfully sinister laugh, echoing from the depths of his belly and hanging seductively in the air. He watches as gooseflesh erects like falling dominoes, trailing rapidly along your arms. He tilts his head and coos, “Right on schedule.” 

 You sit up slightly, raising your eyes to meet his and he smiles. “I’ve always had the ability to disarm even the most resolute of beings. But do tell me, pet: what is a striking young vixen such as yourself doing in a place like this?” You fight the urge to snicker and lose, a grin peels across your face. You retort “ah, Loki, Prince of Asgard. Flattery may get you all you desire back home, but I’m rather well versed in what you do.”  He takes another step forward, stopping at the push-back from the tip of his boot prodding the sole of yours. The thought of him being close enough to touch you begins to distract you from your trademarked stoicism. Better tread lightly. Don’t get cocky. Don’t lose your wits now. Don’t let him in your head.  

 You pull one leg back, bending at the knee as you slide yourself back, straightening up, somewhat defensively. Acknowledging your attempt to posture, he waves a hand and produces two chairs, facing one another. He reaches his hand to you. “Let us sit comfortably as we discuss the matter at hand.”  Rising to your feet, you lightly wave his hand away as he scoffs, amusedly. You take a step forward and he teleports behind you to pull your chair out. Thanking him, you take your seat. You can work with this.  

 Expecting him to sit across from you, you’re taken aback when the apparition before you disappears and the Loki behind you wraps his long, slender fingers around the chair, gripping your arms ever so lightly. Leaning in, he whispers deeply into your ear, his bottom lip grazing your earlobe as he forms every syllable. “Tell me, my darling. What truly brings you here?” An undeniable heat flickers in the core of your lap. You tilt your head away from temptation and remark, “Well on this trip, I was just on the hunt for materials, my lord. But I’d be happy to call it a day and be on my merry way home if you’d just point me in the direction of the door.”  

 His fingertips slowly begin to run up and down your arms as he brings his head further to meet your ear, laughing breathily and murmuring, “If talking is not in your interests, I can make it so.” You chuckle, in a profound attempt to conceal your growing arousal at this game. A fruitless effort as the Dark Prince can detect exactly what you’re feeling. To this, he responds by placing his left hand at the base of your neck, lightly pushing your head aside with this fingers, exposing your neck to his tongue as he licks a slow, broad stroke straight to the very same earlobe. You breathe out slowly and deeply and reach nimbly for a lock of his hair: to subdue him, sure. But with the mood striking, why not remind him not to get too familiar?  

 He catches your wrist immediately and laughs again, this time leaning into your face, resting the tip of his nose beside yours. He returns your slow, deep sigh for a second, then brings his lips to barely touch yours as he asks, “How have you been getting here, little dove? That’s all I’m asking.” Before you can pull your other arm free to grab his neck, he pins it to the chair. He narrows his glare into your eyes. “Tell me.” He lets the tip of his tongue out to graze your bottom lip. You take his bottom lip, dragging your teeth to suck it briefly. He revels in your response, and you release him, pushing yourself free from him as you stand. “You’d like to talk, my lord? Then please, have a seat.” You muse, and he follows. 

 “I just thought we’d have some fun, is all. I’ve found you mystifying for a rather long time, and at long last, I’ve got my introduction.” He shrugs, nesting in the chair across from you, crossing one long leg atop the other. You smirk. “You’re not the only one with wiles, your highness.” You can withstand even the most grueling physical pain and torment. You’ve survived true agonies. At this rate you wager if you go along, allowing him to work you up, you can figure out why he’s here just as well. Why not go along, make him think if he gets you off, you’ll tell him everything? That way you can at least have some fun for now and possibly still accomplish something.  

 You step towards him and you watch as his eyes follow every curve of your body, making a second pass upward and stopping at your lips. You relish the look in his eyes and decide to move forward. You tower over him, giving him a moment to breathe in your scent. You grab his hair and tug his head backward, speaking into his throat. “What do you really want to know of me, my Prince? Am I all that beguiling?”  He chuckles once again. “I was sent to question you. But at this moment, I could not care less. Of my own reasons I sought your company... for my own reasons. Would you like to find out what they are?” He immediately grabs your wrist once again, freeing himself from your clutch and sitting upward, beneath you, defiantly and daringly raising his chin to you as he places a hand on each of your hips. You try to hold back the shudder but it overcomes you. He takes this as a cue and slides his thumbs up along your hip bones and cups his fingers beneath your ass cheeks. Time to move.  

 You take that last step forward, closing the gap. You swing one leg over each of his and rest on his lap, leaning in, breathing in. Burying your nose in the nape of his neck, taking in every note of him, you murmur, “What do you want now, my lord?” He runs two fingers from your collar bone to the valley of your chest, slowly tracing around. You begin undoing the front clasps of your armor, all the way down to your belt, stopping. He reaches up to your now open collar and tugs it, grinning, gazing for a moment. “Ah, a fair woman with the fairest skin. Just as I imagined... for so long.” Inviting him to peruse, you allow him to wander further. He runs fingertips along your bare stomach, stopping at the center of you, cupping it. And squeezing.  You gasp and lean forward, entrenching both hands in his hair. Pressing your lips to his and snarling, “Tell me.” He slides his tongue directly into your mouth, alongside yours, and the heat between your legs, within his palm smolders. The erupting frenzy set you ablaze. Once in a while, you’ve gotta treat yourself. And in this case, worst case, you were going to get off... and fuck a god.  

 Straddling his lap, making the slightest suggestion with your hips, circling around the rapidly hardening bulge between his thighs, you run your wet lips down to the tip of his chin, sucking it. “Say it, your highness. What do you want?” He meets your gaze again and looks down at his hand, pressed against the warmest thing in The Nine. Like a switch, the chairs disappear and you’re thrown against the awkwardly, angularly curved wall of the cell, your throat tight against Loki’s hand, while his other hand runs between your knees, up your thighs, stopping once again at the place on the map that the Dark Prince longed to conquer. “I want to ravage you, taste you, feel you, break you, render you defenseless. I’ve not wanted someone so badly in as long as I can remember.” 

 Sighing, you lean forward and he pushes your head back against the wall. He moves in close, taking your upper lip between his and slipping that silver tongue back into your mouth, coaxing you to forget about missions and intelligence, the only focus on your radar now the swell of desire raging between your legs, pulsing in his hand.  You shrug. He pulls away and takes a step back, a mischievous smirk peeling across his face. An oddly soft sensation enveloped you as your armor quickly peeled its way down to your boots, a feeling both warm and cold at the same time freeing you of your material bonds, offering you to the rightful King of Asgard as he stood before you.  You decide to be coy, to extend this moment just a little longer. “I did not ask you to will my armor off of me, my Prince. If you’re going to undress me, why not use those lovely Asgardian hands?” 

 A feral smirk flushed across his face as he shook his head, scoffing. A millisecond passes as he flew up against you again, your hair now locked in his fist and his mouth to the crook between your ear and your cheek. “Let’s not forget whose stature here is greater, my love. You will do well to kneel before me and fulfill my every command. You are a prisoner on this planet and in this moment you are MY prisoner. Now still your tongue and await my next order.” He then grabs the empty sleeves of your armor and wraps them around your wrists, binding you to yourself in the most exquisite arrangement.  

 Intriguing indeed.  

 Waving another hand in the air, he repositions you on the floor, leaning against the wall, wrists bound and connected to your ankles, nearly hogtied before royalty. He towers over you, laughing again, placing a hand atop your head. “You look stunning in this position. Fit to be Queen. A character of strong will and instinct, working her way through The Nine Realms, all in the name of knowledge. A woman unbreakable, but quite possibly bendable, right before me. Mine to experiment on. Mine to do with as I please... and it would so please me to see just how far I can bend you.” He pulls your face up to his and you slide your tongue out, leaving it pressed between your teeth. Not batting an eye at the failing mission in your midst is all too easy now. A good game is hard to find. Fuck the mission, it’s time to fuck.  

 He runs the tip of his tongue along yours, sending electric jolts straight down to the conductor itself, your slightly aching cunt. You raise your hips off the floor subtly enough to suggest you’re ready to talk terms with your body. His eyes follow, glazing by the inch, stopping at your beautiful center. Running each hand from your calf upward, he stops just short of your entrance and slides his tongue out... and in.  Incredible.  As his tongue darts within you, you feel the presence of another Loki behind you, unbinding and undressing you completely while running his mouth along your neck, finding your mouth and cupping your breasts. The Loki below you peers up for a moment, watching you preen. You lean forward as a way to beg him not to stop. He rolls back on his ankles and grins. “Shall I continue, pet?” You nod. 

 He slips back in between your legs and continues masterfully manipulating every sensation tingling through you. Gripping your thighs and pulling his face deeper into you: the very sight enough to unravel you for eons to come. The Loki behind you grabs your face and pulls your lips to his, bringing you over the edge as you grind along and against the two Dark Princes wantonly galvanizing every last part of you. As the one before you continues lapping you up, the one behind you slides two fingers into you, undoing you in the most delightful way, entrapping you in the most delicious madness conceivable. Your body convulses as you’re released, the Loki behind you vanishes and the one before you is still within you, between your knees, on his knees.  You utter an airy chuckle as your orgasm retreats.

 Looking down at the fine Asgardian god before you, you couldn’t resist. “Who’s kneeling now, your majesty? I do so enjoy the worship in your prowess.” He pulls his head up, looking both defeated and entranced, rocking back on his ankles once again. You waste no time. At your feet, you close the distance and push him back to a seated position against the opposite wall of the cell, pinning him in place as you stretch your legs apart and straddle his lap once again. Instantly he’s disarmed, placing his hands on your back and running them up and down, digging nails into you, exhilarating you further. 

 You reach down for his cock, grasping it firmly and lean in to take to his lips again. Hungrily he meets you, tongues massaging one another as passion coursed through every vein. You pull away and up to his ear. You let out a short chuckle and slowly ask, “Do you wish to take me, my Prince? Do you crave the sensation of my wet, hot tightness gripping you deeper and deeper, greedily pulling you into me while you fight not to concede?” He stills. No woman has ever spoken to him in this manner, he’s absolutely floored. Asgardian women are demure and well behaved, it’s no wonder he’s felt his wants go unmet... for so long. 

 For the first time he decides to put the whole rightful-King-of-Asgard schtick on pause and just explore the extraordinary matter at hand. He takes a deep breath, attempting to hide how indescribably aghast he is and sighs, “That is indeed what I plan to do, little dove.” He grips your hips tightly, pulling you against him, grinding the invitation against you. You chuckle again and lean in even closer to prod, “How badly do you want to be inside of me? I can delay you.” 

 He cups you once again, slipping the slightest of fingertips within you and holds you still. “I want you more than anything,” he whispers in a nearly deadly voice. You retort, “More than the throne of Asgard?” He laughs softly and rocks forward in one motion, pushing you off of him and onto your back, flat on the floor. He waves off his armor and crawls over you, boring into your eyes, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. He leans down and begins to run the tip of his tongue along the underswell of your chest. He grabs your face between his index and thumb, pressing his forehead to yours. 

 “If you think I pleased you before, you have another thing coming. I’m going to summon you to the edge and hold you there longer than you can fucking stand. I’m going to revel in the flavor of your anticipation, the scent of your arousal, the taste of your body as you beg me to let you come. I’m going to hold you captive until you repent and plead, crying out for me to fill you, to soothe this maddening need. You will be screaming and you’re going to love every fucking moment of it. I’m going to make you come so hard that it almost hurts. You know not what I’m truly capable of, pet.”  

 ***

Oops, got a little indulgent with the smut... so there’ll be a part 2, of course. I’m just tryin’ to work ya up, let ya down n’ work ya back up again. ;)

[hollandtomholland]

Something More

- A Tom Holland oneshot.

(A/N): Happy Valentines day, loves! Technically it’s over where I’m from (it’s 4:05 am)  but I might just get there in time for all of you guys in the US. I thought I’d celebrate today and christen this blog with a not-so-little something I’ve been working on for the past week. It clocks in at just under 6k, twice as much as I’d intended, but you know what it’s like when you really get into something. I haven’t written anything like this in about three and a half years, so I’m a little rusty - bear with me! I hope you enjoy and I’d really appreciate any feedback if you’re willing. Also - my formatting keeps messing up in the mobile app and removing the read more, so sorry to everyone who has to scroll through this massive wall of text. Much love xo

Summary:  Everyone has that one person who seems to dip in and out of their lives, reappearing when they least expect it , and for you that was Tom. He was as mysterious as he was charming, and the chemistry between you was electric - but he was never around for very long. When he appears on one of the most important nights of your life, nothing is certain. Is this just another fleeting chapter in your shared history? Or is it something more?

Warnings: Very mild angst, but mostly pure fluff.

There was something thoroughly magical about a gallery opening that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Perhaps it was the sheer amount of creative talent gathered in one space, sharing ideas and murmuring their appreciation, or the powerful energy of never-before-seen artworks that were finally able to inspire and move those who looked upon them. Or maybe, you thought, it was just the champagne. Whatever it was, you were grateful to be there.

Tonight, you were finally able to stand in that space and feel proud of yourself. Three of your portraits hung on the wall before you, beautifully framed and looking way more professional than they’d ever done before. Many people would consider photography to require less skill, less artistry than painting, but you wholeheartedly disagreed. Even after years of experience, you still marvelled at how even the tiniest change in angle, the most imperceptible shift in lighting, or the most minor adjustment of focus could produce the greatest of results. Every single person you photographed was different, and so was your approach to photographing each one. You put the utmost effort into creating something that would reflect their personality in a single shot; soft lighting to bring out someone’s warmth, a low angle to convey their confidence, blue tones to communicate some inner melancholy. Each little detail you tweaked was like the stroke of a painter’s brush, and you’d honed your craft to perfection. 

Appearing behind you with a glass of champagne in each hand, Jocelyn regarded you warmly. “How are you feeling?” she asked, handing you the fuller of the two glasses. You took a long sip, feeling the bubbles fizzing against the roof of your mouth. “Kinda like this” you remarked, holding up your glass with a wry smile. She laughed. “Is that because you’re nervous? Or because you’ve seen him?”

You followed her pointed gaze to the far corner of the room.  A well dressed man was stood by the coat check, handing his coat to the attendant. As he turned to survey the room, you caught sight of his face.

Ah, you thought.

Him.

Everyone has that one person who seems to dip in and out of their lives, reappearing when they least expect it , and for you that was Tom. The first time you’d met him was five years ago, at a friend’s housewarming party. He was charismatic, strikingly polite, and full of sparkling conversation that charmed everyone around him in an instant - including you. You’d barely had the chance to speak to him properly that night, exchanging one or two words across group discussions, but from that moment on he was to become something of a recurring character in your life. This second time you met, several months later, he appeared as the friend of a work colleague, joining your team for the weekly pub quiz. This time the two of you were able to engage one on one, and you were struck by how this near-stranger could make you feel like the only person in what was a very crowded room. Maybe it was the way he made intense eye contact when he listened, or maybe it was the warmth in his voice as he spoke to you. Whatever it was that he had, you missed it very much when he failed to return the following week… and the week after that. “He’s a busy guy” your colleague had told you, when you finally brought up the subject of his absence, “We were lucky to get him just the once”

The following year, you saw him several times, including once in a restaurant where you both happened to be on a first date set up by the same person. You acknowledged each other politely from across the room, and you found yourself much more interested in him than in the guy sitting in front of you. His name still escapes you… Kevin, was it? Or maybe Scott… Regardless, the date was not a success. You had excused yourself to the ladies’ after the main course, bumping into a slightly frazzled looking Tom on the way out. “Everything okay?” you had asked him, and he’d glanced furtively back into the dining room. “Never go on a blind date” he’d told you earnestly as his eyes met yours, “This girl… she doesn’t like dogs”. 

“I know the feeling” you’d replied, gesturing towards your table where what’s his name was currently picking his teeth with a knife. Tom had taken one look at him and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, eyes fixed onto yours once again. “May we both escape this alive” he’d said solemnly, before a broad grin lit up his face. With that he turned and walked away, fingertips brushing down your arm as you parted. You’d watched him for a moment, and were about to return to your own table when he suddenly looked back at you. The conspiratorial wink he’d proceeded to give you sent a delicious shiver down your spine, and for the rest of the night all you could think about was him. 

And so it went on, the two of you bumping into each other every so often and never in the same place twice. He was never with the same people either, but the two of you had a mutual friend so often that you wondered if everyone in the city knew him. There was the time you met by the stage door of a theatre, both knowing the lead actress in the play. Once he was at a birthday party of an old school friend, having worked with them a few years back. Only last year he’d turned up at your college friend’s wedding, having known the groom since they were children. The last time you’d seen him, he’d appeared at a garden party with a friend of a friend, introduced as the guy she’d been seeing for a few weeks. You’d watched him sitting close to this girl you vaguely knew, laughing and sharing in-jokes you didn’t quite understand as a tight knot formed in your stomach. The burning stare he’d given you across the table, however, was the same as it had always been, as was the warmth in his voice as he said your name. You left early that night, excusing yourself over a fictional headache. By the following week the girl was seeing a different guy, and you hadn’t seen him since.

No matter how many times you met him, though, you never seemed to make any sort of progress. You got on like a house on fire when you were together, the chemistry electric, but as soon as you parted it was like he’d never existed. No way of contacting him, and no idea of when you’d see him again. On many occasions you’d berated yourself for not asking for his number, something which seemed so easy and yet proved so hard. It seemed you were stuck in this awkward ‘more than acquaintances but less than friends’ position permanently, unable to make a break through. The only exception to this was the night of the wedding, but you’d done your best to never think about that again. 

Jocelyn was one of the few people who you’d mentioned Tom to. You’d tried to keep it as casual as possible, telling the tale of your many meetings as if it was just a funny story that meant very little - she’d seen right through you. After that, she’d pressed you for details every time you saw him, treating the whole situation like the most exciting thing she’d ever heard.  Last year, he’d appeared at the opening of her husband’s last business venture, and she could barely contain her excitement at finally getting to see the Mysterious Tom. She greeted him with the same polite interest she offered everyone else, but as soon as he was gone she’d sidled up to you with a knowing glint in her eye; “I get it” she’d told you. “He’s cute, charming, and a little bit mysterious. No wonder you’re so hooked”. 

So here he was now, at one of the most important events in your life so far. It made a strange kind of sense, if you really thought about it. Jocelyn watched you with interest, trying to decipher the expression you were just about managing to keep neutral. “You weren’t expecting him” she surmised, as you took another long sip of champagne. You shrugged nonchalantly, feeling more bemused than anything else. A small part of you had actually wondered if he’d be there, but a bigger part of you had brushed that off as wishful thinking. “Who invited him?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, “Could be any number of people”. A moment of silence passed as you both watched him, before Jocelyn turned to you again. “You should go say hi” she suggested, earning a vigorous shake of the head from you. “What would difference would it make” you sighed, before turning back to your portraits. “Besides, I don’t want to ruin tonight by making it all about him. I want to enjoy this moment fully and properly”

This was true. Every time you saw Tom, you were left feeling disappointed regardless of anything else that had happened. You could be at the most amazing party and have the greatest time, but the rush of warmth and excitement you felt in his presence left everything feeling cold and dull as soon as he was gone. It led to you resenting yourself, hating how one person could have such a strong effect on you when you probably meant nothing to them. Just this once, you wanted to avoid all of that. Everything had been perfect thus far, so why would you want to risk ruining it? 

“That’s fair enough” Jocelyn commented, unable to argue with your sound logic. “It’s a big enough space, you should be able to avoid him without too much difficulty”.

And she was right. The following hours passed by without incident, though the thought of him still lingered at the back of your mind. A few brief glances in his direction were all you allowed yourself, unable to stop yourself from indulging no matter how strong your resolve was. He still had the same intense effect on you, even from afar. Jocelyn acted as a lookout, barely leaving your side and hurrying you away to another area once or twice when she spotted him rounding the corner. Still, you managed to make it effortless, mingling with everyone in a way which made you feel like you fitted in for once. To your surprise and delight your work had attracted much praise from artists and patrons alike. Even more encouraging, by the end of the night a ‘sold’ sticker had appeared on one of your portraits: a self portrait you’d taken last year, something very personal that you’d been hesitant to show. 

“What did I tell you,” Jocelyn reminded you, as the two of you stood by the coat check. “It’s some of your best work”. It was late in the evening, and she was preparing to leave. Only a handful of people remained in the gallery, and Tom had not been sighted for at least the past half hour. “Are you sure you don’t want us to drop you back?” she asked you, and you shook your head.

“It’s a kind offer, but I want to stay here just a little while longer. Really make the most of it, you know?”

“Of course. You’ve earned it” 

She gave you a parting hug before exiting the gallery, joining her husband who was waiting outside. You gave them a wave as they left, noticing for the first time that snow had begun to settle on the pavement. It snowed every winter in the city, but tonight it seemed even more magical than usual. The ‘sold’ sticker on your portrait drew your eyes again, and you walked over to fully take it in. Your first show, and you’d already sold something. It wasn’t the money that excited you, in fact that hadn’t even crossed you mind. Just the knowledge that someone liked your work enough to purchase it for themselves was reward enough, and you couldn’t stop the enormous smile from taking over your face. 

“You should be incredibly proud of yourself” 

You knew exactly who that voice belonged to. Slowly, you turned to face the speaker, face fixed with an expression that you hoped conveyed pleasant surprise rather the strange mix of emotions you were currently feeling. 

“Tom! I didn’t expect to see you here” you addressed him casually, as he stepped forward to greet you with a kiss on the cheek. His lips were warm against your skin, his hand resting on your bare arm, and you tried to ignore the sensation this stirred up in your stomach. “Wouldn’t miss it” he replied softly, his eyes meeting yours as you parted. In that moment you wished it was possible to suppress a blush, feeling the scarlet heat creeping onto your cheeks. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice. 

You took his words to mean that he was here by the invitation of one of the other artists. “Who did you come for?” you asked him. Who was your mutual friend this time? Who was the lucky person who’d earned his support, whose presence had drawn him there tonight? 

“You”.

He spoke the word so casually, as if it should’ve been completely obvious. This was clearly no big deal to him, but you, on the other hand, were slightly thrown. You looked at him with genuine surprise this time. “Really?”

“Of course. I passed by earlier this week and your name on the poster caught my eye. I knew I had to come, I’ve been wanting to see your work ever since you mentioned you were a photographer”

This was new territory. For once, Tom was not here as someone’s friend, or someone’s colleague. He was here for you and you alone, a situation you had never dared imagine would occur. 

“And I must say, it was worth the wait. These are simply magical” he said earnestly, turning his attention to your portraits. “The way you capture your subjects… it’s beautiful”. 

You were momentarily lost for words. Tom looked at your work the way no one else ever had, with such intense wonder and fascination. You could tell that he really meant what he said. 

“Thank you. Really, thank you, that means a lot to me” 

He shrugged his shoulders as if it was nothing. “I suspect you’ve heard that a lot tonight, though” he added, seemingly unaware of the effect his words were having on you. “People have certainly been very kind” you admitted. 

“I’m not surprised, talent like yours is hard to ignore” he enthused. “You’ve really blown me away” 

He turned his gaze back to you as he said this, his eyes bright and intense as they locked on to yours. His voice was soft and low, the last sentence laced with an undertone that hinted at a deeper meaning. Part of you wished he’d stop doing that; you were trying to keep your feelings out of this, and the fire he ignited in your stomach betrayed you entirely. Another part of you craved the familiar thrill. This was not what you’d intended to happen at all, but you should’ve known it was inevitable. Silently you berated yourself for letting him get to you so easily, just like you did every time. You decided then that you should take your leave, whilst it was still early enough to avoid that dreaded crash from a Tom-induced high. 

“Well, it’s getting late, isn’t it? I suppose I should be heading home for some rest after all the excitement of tonight” you began, fixing a smile onto your face. Conversely, Tom’s smile faltered at your words. “Oh, that’s shame”. His voice was less sure than usual, and this sparked your curiosity. “How so?”

“I was hoping that you’d let me take you out for a drink or two, perhaps, to celebrate your achievements” he confessed. The intensity in his eyes gave way to a hopeful softness, before his gaze dropped from yours. Suddenly his confidence was replaced with a vulnerability that you’d never seen before, a whole new side of Tom revealed to you that you’d never expected. “I found a great little bar that I thought you might like, but I wouldn’t want to keep you from anything”

In that moment, your resolve crumbled. He had you entirely. 

“I’m sure I have a couple more hours left in me” you said softly, any previous hesitations forgotten. Tom looked up at you, his eyes full of hope. “Are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded. 

“Of course. It’s a lovely idea, thank you for thinking of me”. 

His whole face lit up at your words, that familiar confidence and cool composure restored. “It’s my pleasure. I’ll just go get my coat then, shall I? Oh, and let me get yours too”. 

With that he was off, striding through the gallery to the coat check. You watched him, very aware that you should be angry at yourself right now. You’d intended to avoid Tom at all costs, and yet here you were, agreeing to go out for a drink with him. Somehow, though, you didn’t mind. Something about tonight felt different, it was undeniable. Unlike every other time you were with him, this time, it was just you and Tom. More than that, he’d expressed explicit interest in spending time with you, all of the effort coming from his own free will. This wasn’t just another coincidental crossing of paths - this was deliberate, and filled with potential that both excited and intimidated you. Part of you knew that you were opening yourself up possible disappointment, but a bigger part couldn’t bear to cut the evening short. 

You met Tom at the door, where he helped you on with your coat. His fingertips brushed across your neck as he pulled it over your shoulders, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. He turned to you with a smile as he opened the door. “It’s barely a five minute walk away, we should be back in the warm in no time”. 

Five minutes or fifty, you wouldn’t have cared either way. You barely noticed the cold as you walked, as swept up as you were in Tom’s sparkling conversation. He had this way of making you feel as if you’d never been apart, picking things up where you left off no matter how long it had been since you last saw each other. “It’s just here” Tom said as you approached the bar, holding the door open and gesturing for you to step inside. It was a beautiful little place, decorated with 1920’s style flair and softly lit with elegant chandeliers. It wasn’t as busy as most bars in this part of the city, with just a gentle hum of conversation and plenty of space to sit; he’d chosen well.

“This is lovely” you told him, as he led you over to a table tucked away in the corner.

“A friend of mine had his birthday drinks here a few weeks ago,” Tom replied, “And for some reason it made me think of you”. He spoke so casually, unaware of flutter this drew from your stomach. The very idea that you were on his mind when you were apart had never occurred to you until he’d mentioned seeing your name on the poster earlier, and now this… perhaps you’d underestimated his perception of your connection.

Tom pulled out your chair for you, and then went up to the bar to order some drinks. “I remember your usual: double whiskey, neat” he assured you, and moments later he was back with a glass for each of you. He waited until you’d had a sip before he spoke again, gaze fixed onto yours. “So,” he began, “Are you going to tell me why you were avoiding me earlier?”

The whiskey burned in your throat as you swallowed suddenly. Up to this point you thought you’d got away with it, but it appeared you weren’t as subtle as you thought. He didn’t seem annoyed, though – just curious. “Avoiding you?” you weakly replied, willing your mind to formulate a convincing excuse that never seemed to come. “It certainly seemed like it. Every time I tried to approach you, your friend – Jocelyn, isn’t it – hurried you away. At first I thought it was her who was trying to keep us apart, so I stopped trying and waited until you were alone. It was the expression on your face when you turned around that told me you’d known I was here the whole time. You weren’t unhappy, I think, just… uncomfortable”.

He looked at you earnestly, searching for answers in your face that you were trying to hide. It was no good; something about him made it impossible for you to lie. You let out a deep sigh and hid your face in your hands. “I’m sorry, it was… yeah, I just… ughhh”. You let your voice trail off, words failing you entirely.  You didn’t dare look at him, feeling completely and utterly ashamed of yourself. How could you possibly explain away this one without sounding thoroughly pathetic?

“Hey, hey…”

A gentle hand reached out and took hold of your wrist, drawing your own hand away from your face. “Look at me”.

Reluctantly you shifted your gaze upwards. Tom’s expression was one of sympathy and reassurance, which only served to make you feel worse somehow. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, I’m sorry” he said softly, his fingertips lingering on your skin for a moment before he let your hand rest on the table. And then, even softer still - “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable”.

Sitting up a little straighter, you gathered together the little composure you had left and chose your words carefully. “No, you don’t need to be sorry for anything. You were right, I was avoiding you, which was a childish thing to do”.

“Can I ask why?”

Honesty was, scarily, the best policy in this case. Time to put your feelings into coherent sentences, whether you felt ready or not. 

“It’s just that… look, tonight has been great. And we’ve met at lots of other great nights, right? But sometimes when you’re around, and I can’t explain why… I overthink, and suddenly things aren’t so great”

You chanced a look at him, hoping that your words made some sort of sense. It appeared they did; Tom nodded. “And you wanted tonight to stay great. I understand that” he said calmly, his brow furrowed slightly. 

Both of you were silent for a moment. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking underneath that cool exterior, and suddenly the atmosphere felt unbearably heavy. You missed the fun, amiable repartee that you usually shared with Tom, and you scrambled to return to it’s familiarity. “And look at how things have turned out now, still great! I was just being silly, classic me” you babbled, taking on a tone that you hoped was convincingly light. 

“I made it weird, didn’t I” Tom murmured, still unreadable.

“What? When?”

“At the wedding”

“Oh, well we don’t need to -”

“When I kissed you”

And there it was.

The one topic that you’d banished from your mind, the one thing that you refused to dwell on, was out in the open. Tom’s voice was thick with emotion, but exactly which emotion it was you could not tell. Longing, maybe? Perhaps that was too far. Or was it regret? You hoped not. Your best tactic, you decided, was to play it as cool as possible. “These things happen, people make mistakes -”

“It wasn’t a mistake” he interjected, his eyes suddenly burning into yours. “Kissing you was not a mistake, I don’t regret it. Do you regret kissing me back?”

Although it was true that you’d tried to forget the kiss, the one thing you could never do was regret it. It was, without a doubt, the best kiss of your life. It was a warm summer’s evening, on a balcony looking out onto the lush gardens of a stately home. One minute the two of you had been talking, and the next his hands were on your waist and his lips were on yours. You could still remember the raw energy between you, how nothing had ever felt more natural or instinctive than to kiss him and be kissed back. No, you could never regret that. 

You did, however, regret the way you’d sprung back inside without another word, the second you heard someone calling your name. You regretted that when someone later mentioned that Tom was looking for you, you’d spent the rest of the night holed up in your hotel room overthinking. And you regretted the immediate shut down you went into after convincing yourself that he hadn’t meant it, that you were nothing more than a potential fling to him. That was the easy option, you realised. You hadn’t needed to confront your own feelings, you could remain in denial and avoid reality. 

“No, I don’t regret it” you asserted, watching as Tom’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly. He took a sip of his drink, swallowing hard. “I tried to find you afterwards, but no one had seen you. I asked your friend for your number, but I guess it was outdated cause when I tried to call it, it was disconnected. We seem to have so many friends in common, and yet when I wanted to reach you I couldn’t find a single person who could help me do that”. 

“You tried to find me?”

“Of course, but nothing seemed to work out. It was as if I had to wait for pure luck to put us in the same place again, just like every other time we’d met” he explained. “I held out hope that we’d cross paths again soon and the next time would be different”. 

You couldn’t suppress the bitter laugh that bubbled up from your throat. “It was different” you reminded him, taking another sip of whiskey to dull the uncomfortable memories that were resurfacing. The look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you were talking about. “I know,” he began, rubbing his cheek self- consciously, “I was with another girl”. 

Back then, you’d expected the next time you saw Tom to be full of unspoken awkwardness  - the fact that he turned up with a date was a full on gut punch that confirmed your worst suspicions. The night of the garden party, you’d told yourself that you truly meant nothing to Tom. Any feelings you had for him were one sided, you’d determined, and it was stupid to hope for anything more. “That was… not a great evening” you admitted, with a wry smile. 

Tom let out a gentle chuckle. “Not for me either. I’d spent so long thinking of what I was going to say to you, making up my mind to do things properly, and the minute I gave up hope and tried to move on, there you were”. 

“I hope you didn’t break up with her on my account” was all you could say, more than a little overwhelmed by everything you were hearing. 

“She broke up with me. It was fairly amicable, she sensed something was off and cut it short before I could” he recounted, running a hand through his hair. 

“I guess that’s a good thing”

“It was. It wasn’t right for me to be with her when I was…”

He trailed off, letting out a deep sigh. He let his gaze drop, rubbing his cheek again in a gesture that betrayed his usual self-assurance. You watched him, unsure of what to say, as he stared into the bottom of his whiskey glass. The stare turned into a wistful smile, and his eyes met yours once more. When he spoke again, his voice was full of conviction and raw emotion:

“When I was in love with someone else”.

You felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. Your mind reeled at this statement, so plain and simple and yet so full of complex implications.

“You were in love with me?” you asked, your hand gripping tightly around your whiskey glass.

“I still am”

His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the intensity in his brown eyes revealed the passion behind his words. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? All you could do was stare at him in stunned silence, and he seemed to appreciate the effect his declaration had on you.

“When I saw your name on that poster, I knew that I had one more chance to do this properly… to tell you how I felt. I came to terms with my feelings a long time ago, and I’m not going to apologise for them, but if you don’t feel the same I will respect that and walk away”.

The look in his eyes cut you to the core; vulnerability, with a tinge of hope. 

“Just please, say something,” he implored, “Anything”.

There was only one thing you could say: “I’m in love with you too”.

Because after all, you were in love with Tom. You’d never said it out loud before, not to yourself, not even to Jocelyn, but it was the undeniable truth. You were in love with the man sitting in front of you, the man who had poured out his feelings and confirmed that that two of you felt exactly the same way. You had been wrong all along; your connection was than more than just acquaintances, much more than friendship, and went far beyond anything you’d ever imagined. 

The sheer joy and relief on Tom’s face was immediately apparent.“That’s… more than I ever could’ve hoped for” he breathed. You sat in silence for a short while, just smiling at each other and basking in the pure exhilaration of the moment. Your bubble was burst by a pointed cough from the bartender; it was only then that you realised you were the only customers left, chairs stacked onto the tables around you. 

“Whoops” Tom chuckled, flashing the guy an apologetic smile. 

“We should probably go” you added, and the pair of you stood up hurriedly. Tom helped you on with your coat, before offering you his arm. “Shall we?” he asked, that familiar glint of confidence back in his eyes. You slipped your arm into his, and he led you out into the street. For a while you walked along in comfortable silence, sharing a euphoric high. It was Tom who spoke first. 

“By the way, I hope it didn’t seem too forward that I bought the portrait of you” he said warily, shooting you a sideways glance.

“I didn’t even realise that was you”

“Part of me thought it was a strange thing to do, but the other part… well, it was just enchanting. You looked beautiful, ethereal, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I was going to give it back to you, see. I remembered you saying that it was a shame you had to sell all your work to make money, because you’d love to keep some pieces, and that one is definitely worth keeping”. 

You felt the hot blush creeping in as he spoke, overwhelmed yet again by his kind words. “Thank you” you mumbled, marvelling at how he still had the power to surprise even after everything that had already been said. Tom turned to look at you, and a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Are you blushing?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the pavement. Stepping in front of you, he brushed a hand across your cheek. “You are! Is this because I told you that you looked beautiful? You always do, I thought that the first time we met. You look even more beautiful now”. He gently cupped your face with one hand as the other came to rest on your waist, and then his lips were on yours. 

Up until this point, you’d considered the kiss at the wedding to be the best kiss of your life; this one blew it out of the water. His lips moved fervently against your own, warm and soft but more and more urgent as the kiss deepened. Your hands were in his hair, and the hand on your waist pulled you into him, your bodies pressed close together. Breathing became irrelevant; to kiss and only to kiss was the all consuming thought. You’d both been waiting for this moment, and were making the most of every single second. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of the street, in full view of every passer by. This kiss was intimate, euphoric, everything you felt for each conveyed better in actions than in words. This was the type of kiss that took over your mind, your body, and it couldn’t have been more perfect,

You don’t know how long you kissed for, and you didn’t care. When your lips finally parted, Tom held you close to him, unwilling to let you go just yet. “Wow” he whispered, his breath ghosting across your lips.

“Wow” you agreed, as you smiled up at him. He looked perfect, softly lit by the streetlamps with tiny wisps of snow settling in his hair and eyelashes. “I’ve been invited to a housewarming party tomorrow night, and I want you to come with me” he began, and you couldn’t help but let out a gentle laugh.

“What?” he asked, his nose wrinkling adorably.

“Is it Allie and Connor’s party, by any chance?”

It was Tom’s turn to laugh. “Don’t tell me, you’re invited too”.

You nodded, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit” he added, shaking his head in wonder. “But would you like to go together? As a couple?” 

“Of course I would” you assured him, “It would be a welcome change”

“I wholeheartedly agree with that”

The two of you began walking again, arms interlinked as the snow sparkled around you. Tom grinned charmingly at you. “Just one thing, though”

“What is it?”

“I’m going to need your number”.

[angelofthenightposts]

Broken Heart.// Ch.10

 Bill is ready for the next stage of his life after reaching the happy life he can be with the people he loves and the successful career he has always dreamed of. Marrying his fiancé, Alida. But it all takes an unexpected turn when he asks his wedding planner friend, Y/N, to help plan their wedding.

Series Masterlist || My Masterlist.

It's Saturday, and it's a warm and wonderful day. Bill is lying on the grassy ground, gazing up at the sky. The birds are chirping, it’s like something out of a movie. He is alive and cheery; it is ten o'clock in the morning, but he feels as if he hasn't gotten enough sleep due to excitement. They're almost there; traffic was moderate, but the meeting location was outside of town; he decided that a meadow would be the finest spot for a picnic.

When he hears Aria's voice, he is about to fall asleep. He stands up swiftly and extends his arms to the girl who is rushing towards him. He strokes her wavy hair as she hugs him firmly, and she smells like freshly picked strawberries.

“Hello.” You approach him with a picnic basket in your hand, and he greets you with a broad smile before standing up and seating Aria down. He understands that you are nervous after what happened at his house, and he makes every effort to make you feel at ease. You give each other a short hug. He lets you go away and notes that you and Aria are both dressed in the same style. The pinkish dress looks adorable on your daughter, but it's stunning on you. You blush as his stare falls on you, and you immediately avert your eyes and take a seat next to your daughter. “Did you have to wait this long?”

“The most beautiful thing in the world is waiting for you two.” You bite your lower lip and look at Aria, who doesn't appear to get his flirtation. He grins at you and takes a seat next to you, “But no, I didn't.”

As she sees you putting the food out, Aria tell Bill with a deep scowl on her face and a pout on her lips, "I'm upset at you."  You sigh deeply and open your mouth to tell her to forget about it, but she and Bill have other ideas. He asks as to why, and Aria is more than willing to explain. “When I woke up two nights ago, my mother wasn't home, but she said she was with you. How come you didn't invite me to your sleepover?”

“Aria, we didn't plan the sleepover, your mother had to drop something off at my place, and- you know what, I'm sure she'll bring you to the next one,” he says, looking up. “Is that right, Y/N?” You notice four eyes waiting for your words as you open the sandwich wrap for Aria, so you nod and assist her with the first bite.

“Bill, I think purple is the most beautiful color. I like everything in purple.” It's been about fifteen minutes, and everyone except Aria has eaten their sandwiches. She would rather tell her every thought than eat her meal. She chats about anything that comes to mind, and it's clear that she and Bill have already formed a bond. He pays close attention to her, as if he wants to know everything there is to know about her, while you sit there quietly watching them. Aria does her best to stay still and help Bill as he attempt to wipe the peanut butter from her chin. She rolls her eyes and looks to you as Bill creates a worse mess than before.  “He isn't good at it, mommy.” 

“Aria, that wasn't very nice of you, baby.” You advised her; you taught Aria the value of treating people with kindness, even if they are cruel.

She gives Bill a sidelong glance, and before she can say sorry, Bill shakes his head and adds, “She is correct, Y/N.  I'm new to these things. So tell me, are you looking forward to our sleepover tonight?"

Aria smiles broadly and nods her head, "I even packed my new jammies with me. It's has butterflies on it.” A bunch of children ahead of her attracts her attention before she can say anything else about her outfit. Your gaze is drawn to where hers is, and you predict the question she will ask. When she looks up at you, you nod and help her in standing. She turns away from you and begins talking with her new friends. You like Aria's natural ability to make friends, and you suspect it has something to do with Bill's genes because you aren't always the most popular person in the room.

Bill is watching his daughter go ahead and pick up some flowers when it occurs to him that you, too, enjoy flowers as much as she does. “All the beautiful flowers of the world are here,” he says as his fingers glide across the ground to select the best one. "You should wear one in your hair. ”

“The poppy is a delicate flower. It defoliates if you pick it.” He doesn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that you're not talking about flowers. He's aware that you've opted not to discuss your relationship until Aria isn't present.

“How about a daisy then?”  He teases you, and you roll your eyes at him, just as he suspects. He reaches you and places the flower behind your left ear. Someone told him that wearing a flower behind your left ear meant you were in love when he was in Hawaii.

“I don't want it, Bill,” you say as you pull the flower and stare into his eyes. His gaze never leaves yours, as it has in the past. You feel like the luckiest lady on the planet when he stares at you all affectionately. You're scared because you haven't stopped loving him; you know he cares about you, but the thought of this not working rips your heart. “Bill, that night, we made a mistake. I don't want to be confused once more.”

He doesn't consider that night a mistake; in fact, he thinks it the happiest night of his life because you both chose to leave everything behind and spend the night making love in his arms. “We acted without considering the consequences. We acted on our emotions. But is that so wrong?"

“Bill, I'm worried. What if we screw up again, what if this relationship between us doesn't work out? So, what are we going to do? We just can't leave; we have to think about Aria this time.”

“Y/N, you need to quit being so concerned about everything. Yes, we're at a loss for what to do next, but you can't keep living like this. I'm anxious, too,” he palms your left cheek, and you close your eyes under his touch. "But all I care about right now is you and Aria. I'm with you, and I'm finally happy again. Could we please live in the moment and not worry about the future?”

“Promise me that you will never abandon me. Promise me that you'll always be there for me, no matter what life throws at us.” 

“I am yours, Y/N, and I can't imagine living without you and our daughter.”

 Bill lays his daughter down on her bed and walks over to the bookshelf to grab one of the fairytale books. He sits slowly on the edge of the small bed as he open the first page of the book which is about the princess and the dwarfs. Aria scoots over so Bill too can lie down; the view is hilarious, Bill's long legs hanging down from the toddler bed, his body not fitting the small space. "Are you ready for a bedtime story?"

“Yes, but first, I'd like to ask you a question.” He places the book on his lap and looks at Aria, who is staring around the room with interest. “Whose room is this, Bill?”

So, what happens next? Bill had no idea Aria would be mystified as to why his house has a room designated for a small child. He licks his lips and considers that being honest with her is the best thing for her future. "It's... uh... my daughter's room.

“Wait, you have a daughter? Where is she now?”

“She's on her way to me, just like your father. Let's get started on the book right away. It's time for you to go to bed." He clears his throat and begins reading the first page of the book aloud, vocalizing the characters and making a little show for Aria to avert her attention.

Aria falls asleep on his chest after a few pages; he places the book on the bedside table but does not get up right away. He enjoys the moment and watches her, taking in every detail about her. Before turning off the light and leaving her room, he plants a small kiss on her forehead. He finds your name on his phone's screen and makes a Face Time call. As Bill lights a cigarette on the small balcony and smiles at you, your face appears on the screen. "I'm going to be bald, and guess that our daughter is finally sleeping."

“Yes, and I wish you didn't have  to leave after dinner, you know. We could have spent a little time together.” After the picnic, you drove to his house and found that his entire family had plans to meet Aria. You would have turned on the invite and returned to your house even if it weren't for My's incredible cooking ability. You did, however, dine with Bill's family. Fortunately, Aria was the center of attention, so you didn't have to answer as many questions. It was heartwarming to see how they greeted you and Aria with laughter and love.

“I know, playing dolls with you, Aria, and Alex would be hilarious. But I had to go to work,” You show him your office, including the walls and every surface covered in notes and papers. “Things aren't looking good; I might sleep here tonight.”

“Do you want me to come over and help you?”

“I won't be able to keep my hands off you if you come here, and it will only delay my work.” He gives you a dangerous smile, and you almost want to abandon everything and run to his arms.

“I want to be there more now.” You and he talk about other things for a while, and as you tell him about your recent event, you notice that he isn't paying attention to yHis gaze is fixed ahead, and his brows are furrowed deeply. You can tell he's upset about something. When you ask him what it is, all he does is shake his head and stare at the screen with doe eyes. “Y/N, we have to be honest with Aria. She got to know me and now she actually loves me. I don't want her to be confused when we tell her the truth.”

"The pedagogue agrees with you. You are completely right; we must tell her as soon as possible. But we have to find a way to tell her without upsetting her. ” You both remain silent, pondering how to proceed. You grin at the thought that occurs to you, "I have a brilliant idea. I think I know what we should do. ”

//xxx//

“It's all right, dude. If you ask me again if it is working, I will kick your balls and you will never have another child,” Bill's assistant warns him as he continues to set up the projector. His mother, father, and siblings are all waiting for you and Aria to arrive in the living room. Today is the day when you will finally tell her the truth.

Stellan pats Bill on the back as he sits next to his father,” Are you excited, son?

“Don't worry, Bill. Everything will be fine. Relax or you'll have a heart attack." Eija kisses him on the cheek, and he nods, hoping she is right. You texted him fifteen minutes ago that you're on your way to his house, which feels like an eternity to him.

"They're on the driveway, everybody except Bill upstairs," After giving Bill a hug, Valter follows the rest of the family to the stairs.

“Welcome!” Bill opens the front door and Aria is in his arms in seconds. “Aria, we have a surprise for you,” he says as he walks into the living room.

“You do?” She turns to face you, and you nod, her eyes gleaming with excitement. He places Aria on the couch, and you take a seat next to her.

“Yes, we do, baby. Bill and I both know how much you enjoy watching movies and hearing stories. That is why we made a film for you. Do you want to see it?" Aria, of course, nods in response to your question, and you look into Bill's eyes, he is sitting on an armchair next to you. He waits for you to give him the signal, and when you do, he grabs the remote and starts the video. You wink at him and kiss the top of your daughter's head; her gaze is fixed on the large screen across the room. “Now I'm going to tell you a fairy tale, baby, try to listen to me as well, okay?"

“Okay, mommy, promise.”

“There was a father who loved his daughter so much. He had to sail away one day. He had to get away from his family and their home. ” As the screen fills with images of the sea and boats, you speak.

"Like my father."

“He always wanted to go back, to be with his daughter. But unfortunately, he got lost because of the storms and winds. A long time has passed and his little girl grew older. Meanwhile, the father found a way to his daughter. But he couldn't see his daughter, whom he absolutely loved. First, he had to find a house for them to live in. Then he made a lovely room for her." The room that Bill prepared for Aria appears on the screen in slow motion. You recorded everything a few days ago so Bill could send it to his assistant to edit. Your intelligent girl immediately recognizes the bed and the toys.

"Is that Bill's house?” You look at Bill and smile at your daughter, tears welling up on your cheeks, but not from sadness; you are excited and happy for the next chapter of your lives. Aria nudges you and adds, "Tell me how the fairy tale ends, mommy."

You kiss your daughter again as the images on the screen change, saying, "Before I tell you the ending, you need to know the beginning, love. This is a story about your mother and father. Aria, they were madly in love with each other. They were happy together."

There is a photograph of you and Bill. It's from when you two first met at an old friend's birthday party. And it shifts to another picture, one from when you first started dating, with Bill wrapping his arms around you and laughing at the camera. Bill grins at the last picture of you and Bill kissing; you included it so your daughter could understand the dynamics of your relationship.

"Oh, that's Bill. Mommy, Bill is kissing you.” Aria's eyes widen as it finally hits her, and she gasps and covers her mouth with her palm. You wait for her reaction while holding your breath. She looks at Bill for a second before turning to face you, looking shy. “Is Bill my father?”

Bill's heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest as he watches his daughter climb into your lap. He can't tell if she's happy or not. Is she disappointed? He is concerned that Aria will reject him as a father. “Yes, baby,” you say, bringing him back to reality. "Bill is your father. Would you like a happy ending, Aria?”

“Yes.” You stand up with Aria in your arms and approach Bill; he rises slowly, like a scene from a drama film. His worried eyes scan her face for any indication that Aria is unhappy.

You reach out and take his hand in yours; wanting to reassure him that everything is fine. For a split second, his gaze is locked on yours, and you give him the biggest supportive smile you've ever given. “Say hello to your father, honey. He's finally arrived.”

“Hello. Will I call you dad from now?”

“Only if you want it as well. Aria, do you want me to be your father?"

"I do. You were always with me, but I couldn't understand that you were my father."  Bill is moved to tears by her small voice, which is filled with emotion.

"My daughter, my lovely daughter..." He hesitantly extends his hand to Aria. He notices you are already in tears as he strokes her hair. He cradles Aria in his arms and hugs her tightly, as if letting go of her would cause her to disappear. Aria, on the other hand, wraps her tiny arms around his neck and snuggles. He pulls you in closer, and you rest your forehead on his other shoulder.

”Daddy.”

[ethanalter]

Secrets of 'Maze Runner: The Death Cure' revealed, from that heartbreaking scene to Dylan O'Brien's injury (spoilers!)

Dylan O’Brien and Thomas Brodie-Sangster in Maze Runner: The Death Cure (Photo: Joe Alblas/20th Century Fox Film Corp/Courtesy Everett Collection)

Warning: This post contains big spoilers for Maze Runner: The Death Cure.

For the past four years, a special effects artist-turned-feature filmmaker Wes Ball has been trapped in a maze of his own making. In 2014, the first-time director called “Action” on The Maze Runner, a relatively low-budget adaptation of a popular dystopian YA novel featuring a mostly untested cast of up-and-coming actors, including Dylan O’Brien, Kaya Scodelario, and Will Poulter. Released to little fanfare in September of that year, The Maze Runner — which follows Thomas (O’Brien) and his allies as they battle a sinister corporation called WCKD on a future Earth ravaged by solar flares and a zombie-creating virus — quickly rocketed to the top of the box-office charts on the backs of young moviegoers. A new franchise was born and after initially flirting with moving on to new projects, Ball returned to adapt the next two books in the series, The Scorch Trials and The Death Cure, back-to-back.

Released exactly one year later in September 2015, The Scorch Trials repeated the original’s success. But plans for an equally quick turnaround on The Death Cure derailed when O’Brien was badly injured in an on-set stunt gone wrong early on in production. The film shut down for a year while the star recovered, and finally opens in theaters today. Speaking with Yahoo Entertainment recently, O’Brien remarked, “It’s something I’m so proud that I ended up getting through. It really meant a lot to me to still finish the film and get through it with everybody.”

For his part, Ball is also happy to have seen the Maze Runner franchise through to its happy conclusion, with the finale topping the box office in its opening weekend. In our wide-ranging exit interview, the director dives into Death Cure spoilers, reveals how O’Brien’s accident forever changed his approach to action sequences and discusses why he hopes the dreaded YA label ends with The Death Cure.

Yahoo Entertainment: Having reached the end of the Maze Runner series, how do you feel the three films reflect your interests as a filmmaker? Wes Ball: I have no idea, honestly. It’s hard to self-analyze. I imagine you would see a growth in terms of craft: how I’d shoot scenes, do camera-blocking, stuff like that. If nothing else, hopefully because the same team made all these movies together, there’s some consistency even though each movie is its own little animal. I grew up on Indiana Jones and Back to the Future, so I imagine those elements are in these movies because they are a part of who I am. Movies that are big on adventure, but hopefully have some real stuff to chew on.

Watching all three films back to back, one running theme I noticed is an interest in depicting male camaraderie and affection. These guys care about each other and act on those feelings instead of bottling them up. Yeah, it’s a brotherhood. We set that up in the very first movie, that idea of this family unit. I think that was important to us, because we weren’t gonna do a love story; there’s elements of it, but we never did a full-on romance. When the books came out and the first movie came out, the YA thing was really big, and it was usually about female protagonists with some element of a love triangle [between two guys]. I always felt it was cool that we didn’t have to go there; we could focus more on the brotherhood taking care of each other and being selfless.

Wes Ball on the set of Maze Runner: The Scorch Trials (Photo: Richard Foreman Jr./20th Century Fox Film Corp./Courtesy Everett Collection

That’s baked into the plot of The Death Cure as well: the whole movie is built around Thomas’s attempts to rescue his friend Minho (played by Ki Hong Lee), which isn’t really the story that’s told in the novel, but plays into your idea of a band of brothers who won’t leave each other behind. Right, plus it’s a great carrot to dangle in front of those characters. In the book, they go to the city, and then they leave the city, you know what I mean? If we had done that, we would have just been going place to place without a real strong throughline. As a movie experience, it just felt right to center it around one of their own that they’re gonna have to go rescue. Then, of course, the act of doing that brings them face-to-face with their past and with different characters they have to meet again, including Teresa, the betrayer. And along the way, Thomas’s perspectives would be challenged: is WCKD really bad? What are they really doing? Rescuing Minho was a cool narrative device to let us bump against these things that we wanted to explore.

As you mentioned, the love triangle is a staple of YA fiction. The studio never pressured you to add a love triangle involving Thomas, Teresa (Scodelario), and Brenda (Rosa Salazar) to the proceedings? No, honestly the studio’s always been really great. I feel like I’ve been spoiled, because they let me make the movies and they were rarely on set. We’d obviously talk about how to make the movie better, but it was never “Hey, can you reshoot this?” at the final hour. We haven’t done any reshoots on these movies, ever. I would love to! I would love to do reshoots, but it’s not worth the expense. But yeah, they’ve been nothing but supportive. Maybe part of it is because we all knew very early on exactly what we were making, and maybe it’s also because the cost of these movies is relatively cheap for what they are. The combined cost of all three movies is what most single tentpole movies cost [the reported production budget for the trilogy is $157 million], so there’s not a lot of risk necessarily. So because of that, maybe we didn’t have to use some of the usual YA things and do things a little differently in places.

Fans of The Maze Runner books haven’t necessarily been thrilled with some of the changes that you’ve made to the story, particular with The Scorch Trials. How did you navigate their responses as you made each film? The truth is, two-thirds of our audience of movie fans haven’t read the books. With that said, I do focus heavily on the book fans, because they are the people I made the movies for, really. They’re the reason we have this franchise. So I hear them and I get it. [For book fans] there’s an element where you feel like you have a secret because you know what’s going to happen and you have a sense of ownership over it in a way. So when things aren’t lining up the way you’re expecting, it can be shocking and almost disappointing.

But if people were to look back on The Scorch Trials with fresh eyes, I think they would see the broad strokes of the book are there. I just don’t have them walking down a dark tunnel for 30 minutes or the metal balls that eat people’s heads — stuff like that. But the general sense of a group of people finding out that they’re still with WCKD and venturing out into Scorch where they meet Jorge and Brenda and are exposed to the Cranks, that all still happens. It’s the same story, just some of the details are changed.

I can only make what I feel is right as a movie experience. If I can’t pull something [from the book] off, I just can’t do it. For example, there’s that Crank party scene in the second movie, where they drink something and go crazy. That was in the books, and I was like, “OK, we’ve got to try and get this scene in the movie.” In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I put it in there for book fans and they didn’t care for it! Hopefully they’ll go into The Death Cure with an open mind. Even though it’s not exactly like the book, I think we’re very true to the spirit of the book.

Let’s dive into some Death Cure spoilers: in the book, we never see what the “safe haven,” where Thomas and the surviving Immune population settle, looks like. In the film, you depict it as a kind of oceanside camp. Why did you decide to visualize it that way? That was pretty simple for me: it was all about the safe haven being the Glade 2.0 and the story coming full circle. It even has the naming wall that we had in the first movie. That’s an idea that wasn’t in the book, by the way — the names-on-a-wall thing. That was something I put in because it felt right; it was a visual cue for these groups of people living in this place. So we brought it back at the end of The Death Cure, because it’s a shrine to the people they’ve lost. I did choose for the safe haven to be much cleaner than the Glade, because they actually came with supplies. But hopefully it feels like the first 10 minutes of the first movie that people fell in love with. I like the idea that it’s a wide-open world in front of them, with the horizon as far as you can see. That’s a hopeful ending to the series. There might not be any more movies, but you can imagine in your own mind how the story might continue.

Kaya Scodelario as Teresa and Patricia Clarkson as Ava Paige in Maze Runner: The Death Cure (Photo: 20th Century Fox/Courtesy Everett Collection)

You also made the choice to depict the death of WCKD head scientist Ava Paige (Patricia Clarkson) onscreen. Since she’s not a physical character in the book, I imagine that was to provide her with some definitive closure for the movie series? Yeah, that’s obviously a callback to the second movie where Thomas said, “I’m going to kill Ava Paige.” We pretty much knew that we were going to have him be in a position where he could kill her, and then he doesn’t. Our big goal in this movie was to show the world of WCKD and reveal that it wasn’t quite what you expected. You think, “Oh, Ava Paige is this cliché evil scientist,” but we get to show that she’s not — she’s just a doctor trying to do what she can, and what feels right. I’ve always seen these movies as a metaphor for growing up: the first movie is about high school, the second is college and this one is about journeying into adulthood and finding out the world isn’t black and white, but grey and complicated. Of course, we do have our true villain, Janson [Aiden Gillen], and he gets to kill Ava and relish in that. But otherwise, it was about challenging some of the perspectives we knew from previous movies.

Obviously, one of the most important scenes in the movie is the death of Thomas’s best friend, Newt (Thomas Brodie-Sangster), which plays out very differently from the book. It does. In fact, Newt’s story in general is incredibly different from the book. A third of the way through, Newt disappears and later writes a letter. Then, almost by chance, Thomas finds him on the side of the road and shoots him in the head. In our movie, that wouldn’t work — it just wouldn’t. You want to say with Newt for as long as possible and show his slow demise [from his infection]. Ultimately, it’s the catalyst for Thomas to change as a character, in much the same way that Teresa in the second movie tells the story of her mother who got infected and went crazy. This is a story for Thomas where he’s been personally affected by the virus, and he now knows that there’s a way this will never happen to anyone else again if he goes back.

I was also interested in seeing Newt struggle with the monster inside taking over slowly and consuming him, essentially. Every time I went to that visual from the book of Thomas shooting Newt, I felt like it would just be too harsh. So we went this route, where Thomas stabs him after Newt begs him to kill him. Some people will be made about it, but I think it was the right thing to do for the movie. With our versions of the characters, there’s no question in my mind that Thomas would never willingly kill Newt, ever. It doesn’t matter if he was Cranking out and going crazy — he would do everything in his power to not do that. I could never figure out how to put him in a position where he would willingly pull a trigger and shoot his friend in the head.

You confronted every director’s nightmare when Dylan O’Brien was badly injured on set while shooting the opening train heist. What do you remember about that day? It’s probably one of the worst days of my life. Dylan is one of my best friends; we’ve been together for quite a long time now, and I hurt him. I can’t help but feel responsible. I told him that I felt this was going to be safe, and then a strange circumstances of things went wrong that we didn’t account for and Dylan got hurt, and it’s because of me, really. So I take that very personally. I was the first person to get to him, and I remember that feeling. It’s pretty much scarred in my brain now for the rest of my life.

It wasn’t a great experience, but I think the good thing here is that we got back on the horse. It took a while, but we finished this thing. I think it says a lot about Dylan, about how tough he is and how committed he is to these movies. The same thing for the studio; they could have pulled the plug and said, “No, let’s not do this. Let’s not wait a year to go back and reshoot this thing.” But they chose to stick with it — we all did — and I think that’s a nice story. As terrible as the event was, we saw it through to the end. That day did make me approach things differently, that’s for sure.

O’Brien and Ball on the set of the first Maze Runner in 2014 (Photo: Ben Rothstein/20th Century Fox Netherlands/Courtesy Everett Collection)

Has it changed the way you’ll direct action sequences? Yeah. We only shot for three days the first time around, so we had to go back and reshoot all of that material. I told Dylan, “I’m never going to put you on a moving vehicle. You’ll be static in a parking lot.” So during that entire sequence, Dylan is never on a moving car. It’s all CGI. That was a challenge to figure out how to shoot make look believable, but it was a fun challenge. My basic approach now is that I’ll never ask anyone to do anything that I wouldn’t do myself. Because Dylan is such a physically capable actor, it was easy for me to say before, “He’s got this, it’s easy and fun.” But then you don’t account for the outside forces that he has no control over. He didn’t do anything wrong — it was series of events that we didn’t foresee happening that caused the accident. I think we’ll all carry this for the rest of our lives and be affected by it in good and bad ways.

As I understand it, some of the shots from the day he was injured are in the finished film, correct? Was it a difficult choice to include them? Yes, there are shots from that day in the movie. No one would ever know, but there’s one shot in there that was from Vancouver. The rest are all reshoots basically. I talked about it with Dylan we both decided, “Let’s make it worth something.” He went through hell for that shot, so why would we not use It? It felt right that way. It was a touchy thing for sure, and I know if you talk with Dylan he doesn’t like talking about it very much. But it was what it was and we got through it.

What’s next on the horizon for you? It’s looking like Fox will become part of Walt Disney — are you interested in directing a Marvel movie or a Star Wars adventure? Or do you want to pursue your own material? I have no idea. It’s weird; I’ve been in the position of always knowing what my next film is, because whenever I finish one Maze Runner movie, I have the next one lined up to go. But I don’t have that in this case. I’m going to have a vacation in February; I haven’t taken on in the last five years! So I’m gonna reassess and figure out what the hell’s next. It’s certainly fun doing these big movies, and this last movie was the biggest one we’ve done so far. But there’s also something nice about doing a little movie, so I’ve been thinking about that a lot. It would be fun to go off and do something small, though it probably would still be in the sci-fi/fantasy genre. That’s one of the reasons I love the first Maze Runner; it’s this small $30 million movie on a big canvas. J.J. Abrams’s company [Bad Robot] does that really well, too — Cloverfield, for example. I miss those mid-range movies that we don’t really have anymore.

Watch Ball’s short film Ruin, which has been acquired by Fox as a potential feature film

A lot of the big YA franchises like The Hunger Games and Twilight have already ended. With The Maze Runner finishing up now, does it feel like the end of an era? I’ll tell you what I hope happens: I hope that the YA label is done, because I never saw these movies as YA. I just wanted to make a fun movie with young people in it. I never saw it as, “Oh, it’s YA so I have to do it a certain way. Granted, I know the books are considered YA, but I hope we can get away from that stuff and just talk about these as movies with young people in them. I imagine there will always be these kinds of movies, along with post-apocalyptic stories. They’ve endured for such a long time. But you’re right, there are always cycles to these things and right now it seems like we’re in the realm of superheroes and are getting more adaptations of video games. So it does feel like the end of a chapter, I guess.

If you could pick up one memory from your Maze Runner marathon that sums up the entire experience for you, what would it be? Oh man, that’s a tricky one! I guess it would probably be back on the first movie, honestly. There was something so nice about being in that Glade, and it being my first movie with this new cast. I felt so lucky. We had been shooting in the Glade for four weeks and were going to a soundstage to shoot the Maze stuff. So it was our last day in the Glade and we were saying goodbye to this crazy little universe we had created out there. The sun was setting, and I remember that Dylan, Kaya and I got in a golf cart and started riding around. There was a thunderstorm approaching, and we went through the woods on the side of the glade. We ended up getting the golf cart stuck in the river that ran right by there! There’s a picture out there somewhere of us stuck in this golf cart in the mud of the river. We had to lift the cart out as the storm rolled in. I’ll always remember that day. These movies haven’t only been an adventure onscreen, but off-screen as well. It’s sad to say goodbye to the cast, but we’ll always have these movies and who knows what the future holds?

There are the two prequel books, and with de-aging technology you can go back in 10 years and make everyone look like their younger selves! Not for me! I’m done — I’m moving on. [Laughs]

The Maze Runner: The Death Cure is currently playing in theaters.

Watch: Dylan O’Brien and cast mates discuss his ’emotional’ return from accident:

Read more from Yahoo Entertainment: 

Wes Ball reveals his dramatically different original ending for ‘The Maze Runner’

Dylan O’Brien on ‘Death Cure’ return following injury: ‘It really meant a lot to me to finish the film

Dylan O’Brien back in action in ‘Death Cure’ trailer

[theinquisitivej]

Late to the Party - ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ (2006)

There’s something so elementally perfect about a solid fairy tale. Some of the first narratives we hear in our lives are fairy tales, so they will often evoke the quintessential characteristics of storytelling. Their messages are often overt, but they also hint at a deeper meaning which, even if we’re not consciously aware of what that is, we nevertheless feel it on some level. They are simple, but that simplicity can turn the broad strokes into metaphors with multiple applications. Whether it’s narratives that present themselves as a fairy tale from top to bottom, or stories which feature in-universe fables that act as background lore and deeper worldbuilding, fairy tales can be a brilliant form of universal storytelling when utilised well. Guillermo del Toro’s ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ is pretty much as perfect an example of how to make thematic use of a fairy tale as you’re going to get.

          I knew little about this ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’, but the little imagery I had seen, which featured astonishing and unique creatures, intrigued me considerably. The film’s magically charged title was enticingly mysterious, so I've been aching to watch this movie for a long time. Guillermo del Toro is also one of those directors that people talk about with such loving administration. I've heard him speak in interviews, and he seemed to be not only very friendly and sincere, but remarkably perceptive as well, discussing both his and other people's works with constructive insight. However, the only films of his which I’ve seen are the two ‘Hellboy’ movies, which I enjoy, but not as much as others seem to, and ‘Pacific Rim’, which is an awesome movie that I think far too many people unreasonably dismiss. I've been hoping to find a Guillermo del Toro film that I find not only exceptional, but gets to the heart of his creative identity, and I am happy to say ‘Pan's Labyrinth’ is that film.

          What surprised me most about this movie is how a lot more of its story is set in the real world than I was expecting, and yet the fantastical components of its narrative feel just as vital, prominent, and satisfying as I had hoped they would. There are two storylines, with one being a sobering drama about Spain in 1945 still suffering from the aftermath of its civil war, while the other is a sort of coming of age story wrapped up in a traditional fairy tale. My head says that these two storylines should come across as unrelated to one another, but they don't! Instead, they balance the film as they reflect and inform upon each other. The fairy tale gives both the audience and Ofelia, our young protagonist, a rich, magical world to escape to. But the imagery is always faintly evocative of the events and subject matter we see in the other half of the film, and the brutal, unforgiving violence of the civil war seeps into the harsh, darker aspects of this world of fantasy. On the other side, the situation with Captain Vidal appears all the more bleak and oppressive because the film opens with narration that hints at a brighter, more beautiful world that is just out of reach. The political conflict, the difficult situation Ofelia and her mother have been forced into, and even Vidal's hidden motivations that give context to his horrible actions, are all uncomfortably complicated when compared with the simplicity of fairy tales. It is a film that begs to be watched multiple times and be interpreted and re-interpreted again and again.

          On top of a fascinating story, the film is also breathtakingly constructed. The colour is ingeniously diverse and well distributed. Blue lighting will make a setting a mystical departure from the more naturalistic blend of colours found in the day to day lives of the soldiers and the local people. Whereas the dangers of the conflict are fully illuminated by day, the comforting world of fantasy reveals itself in the soft moonlight of a blue evening. But these fairy tale settings will also be a sickly yellow when we see a grotesque, bulbous toad, or a rich red when we see a plentiful feast accompanied by the danger of a terrifying creature. It sets the stage marvellously, and the cast doesn't let the side down. Ivana Baqueno sells the wonder and terrifying nature of this mystical world Ofelia peers into, and when she has to deal with heavy subject matter revolving around her family, it's heartbreaking. Maribel Verdú does an excellent job playing Mercedes, a woman living on a razor's edge who might lose everything at a moment's notice. Ofelia's mother is played by Ariadna Gil, and while other characters take up more of the film's focus, she nevertheless conveys internalised pain and desperation well enough that it hurts us just to watch her. Finally, Vidal is a great villain, and Sergi López makes him intimidating, but also strangely compelling as we catch glimpses of the legacy he is struggling so hard to live up to.

          And the creatures... my goodness, the creatures. The Fawn and the Pale Man are two of the most memorable and captivating creatures to be portrayed in film. The technical brilliance involved in their construction, which blends wonderful practical effects with an appropriately measured use of CGI, is a marvel to behold. So much of this film's connection to the magical is conveyed through these two creations, and they completely sell the fantasy. Doug Jones is the one under the make-up performing as both the Fawn and the Pale Man. His stiff, yet sudden movements as the Fawn characterise him as an intimidating creature of the forest, and the Pale Man moves like an uncanny blind monster that flails around trying everything in its power to touch you, while its repulsively terrifying appearance makes the very idea unbearable. Doug Jones has worked with del Toro on many projects, and whether through his manner of performance or through del Toro's direction, his creatures always make such effective use of expressive hand movements to denote character or otherworldliness. There's a reason these two are what you think of when you hear 'Pan's Labyrinth'. They're iconic, mesmerising, and brilliant.

          'Pan's Labyrinth' is a beautiful movie. It is exemplary of Guillermo del Toro's ability to paint human characters in fantastic settings that are brought to life with masterful colour direction and excellent practical effects. His stories transport you to another world, but they still deal with harsh subject matter that can be heartbreaking, while still celebrating the positive aspects of humanity. He's a creative presence that film is lucky to have, and 'Pan's Labyrinth' is undoubtedly one of his best.

10/10.

Magical, frightening, and wonderful, 'Pan's Labyrinth' is a terrific example of a cinematic fairy tale.

[pinknerdpanda]

Don’t Speak - Part 1

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader, Cas (Mentioned) 

Word count: 2600 words

Warnings: Bad karaoke, Smut, NSFW, language, angst

A/N: This is part 1 of 3 of a series I wrote for @fandommaniacx​ (also tagging @becs-bunker​) Beckii’s 21st Birthday Challenge. My prompt for this challenge was “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt. Happy Early Birthday present, Becs! I hope that you don’t hate me for like this! :)

Master beta’d by the incomparable @wheresthekillswitch.  Thank you for all of your guidance and wisdom. Also thanks to @hannahindie for beta’ing this as it was birthed - you are such a great sounding board and support. 

Tags are down at the bottom - if you would like to be added to my tag lists, please send me an ask! :)

Your feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!

Don't Speak

“This might be the worst song ever in the history of worst songs!” Dean practically shouts over the din of the crowded bar, as the last strains of “Achy Breaky Heart” roll through the speakers. A round of pity-applause sounds as the inebriated Billy Ray Cyrus wanna-be stumbles off the small stage.

All you’d wanted was a drink. It had seemed like a simple request. Unfortunately for you there’s only one bar in this town and apparently it’s karaoke night. The only saving grace were the drink specials - $10 got you 10 refills of beer in your hideously colored 32 oz mug, and as you swallow the last of mug number three, the tension you’ve been feeling the last few days finally begins to loosen.

The hunt was the worst one you’d been on in ages. The damn demon you’d been hunting had been doing too good of a job covering its tracks. The days wore on, each one ending as unsuccessfully as the one before and Dean growing edgier and grumpier from his lack of monster ganking. Or at least, that is what you’d kept telling yourself, because it seemed easier to digest than the truth. A truth that had been ignored for months.

-----

“Y/n?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. This is Sam. Sam Winchester?” The scowl on your face eased and quickly became a smile as Sam’s handsome face played through your mind.

“Sam! Hey, it is good to hear from you! What’s up?”

“Well, I am heading down that way, just got wind of a case near you and I wondered if you would be interested in helping out?”

Apprehension bloomed in your gut at the thought of working closely with Dean, but quickly faded as you realized he’d said “I” and not “we”.

“Sure, where’s ol’ Dean-o?” Your attempt at nonchalance was ridiculous to your own ears, and you hoped Sam didn’t pick up on it.

“He decided to hang back this time. He said he needed a break.” Relief filled you and you shook your head, chiding yourself for being so childish.

“Ok, well you know where I am, come on over. I have a spare bedroom, so don’t bother with a motel room.”

“Thanks, y/n.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and you happily busied yourself putting clean sheets on the spare bed and tidying your house in preparation for his arrival. You had just turned the burner off on the stove when the doorbell sounded, and you rushed to the door.

Sam greeted you with a smile almost as wide as his shoulders and he leaned down to hug you, pecking you lightly on the cheek before straightening back up and adjusting the strap of his bag on his arm. Your cheek tingled lightly where his lips had just been, and you turned away quickly to hide the flush you felt fill your cheeks.

“Come on in, Sam. I just made some spaghetti. It’s not fancy, but it isn’t take out.” Sam’s dimples deepened.

“You are the best!”

The rest of the night was spent eating, discussing the case, and drinking beer. You had forgotten how much you’d enjoyed spending time with the youngest Winchester, his presence in your small kitchen was a welcome addition.

You cleared the table, and Sam set to washing the dishes, both of you wordlessly fell into an easy rhythm. You dried the last plate and set it in the cabinet. A smile crossed your face as you shut the door.

When you turned around your breath caught in your throat. Sam's large hands came to rest on each side of your body, his muscled arms caged you against the counter.  His hazel eyes drifted lazily from your eyes to your mouth, as he dragged his teeth across his full bottom lip. Your head spun partially from the alcohol, but largely because Sam’s hulking frame was pressed so close to yours, his scent overwhelmed your senses.

When he kissed you, it surprised both of you. You’d known the Winchesters for years - laughed, hunted, and mourned together - and aside from the regrettable dalliance with Dean, there had always been an unspoken understanding that you were off limits from each other. Yet there you stood, fingers twisted into Sam’s long brown locks, your tongues glided purposefully against each others, sharing breath as you desperately pressed your bodies closer together.

Sam pulled back slightly, his hooded eyes searched yours as you sucked in a breath.

“Sam.” His name was an urgent, whispered plea from your lips and it was all the permission he needed to crash his lips against yours again. His nimble fingers worked the fabric of your shirt up and he pulled back long enough to yank it over your head and toss it aside. His mouth found yours again, and then traveled down the column of your neck, peppering kisses and nips and licks across your skin. Your hands moved to the front of his shirt, hurriedly popping the buttons and pushing it off his broad shoulders, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Sam wrapped his hands around your waist and drew your body to press against his. A flash of heat rippled through your body when you felt his hardened length, trapped beneath his jeans, against your stomach. He flattened his palms against your hips before gliding over the curve of your ass and down the backs of your thighs. He lifted your effortlessly, his strong arms shifted to support your weight as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He turned to set you down on the kitchen table. His large hand cupped your breast before he slipped his long fingers under the edge of your bra, the pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You gasped as he rolled the hardened tip between his thumb and forefinger. His free hand slid to your back, unhooked the clasp of your bra and pulled it from your body, his mouth roamed over the newly exposed flesh. Your hips ground against Sam’s, groaning at the sensations his mouth lavished upon your pert nipple.

Sam lifted his head, his eyes darkened with desire as he tugged at your thin lounge pants and pulled them down your legs along with your panties. He urged you to lay back by pressing gently against your shoulders. His fingertips trailed  across the outline of your body, his gaze drank you in.

“You are so beautiful, y/n.”

Sam nudged your knees apart and moved to stand between them. Sparks rippled across your skin as he dragged his nails lightly, but painfully slowly from your knees back up toward your throbbing core.

One long finger stroked your folds, you gasped and arched your back in response. Sam growled and repeated the motion, applying only faint pressure. The tip of one digit teased your entrance as his thumb found your clit and rubbed slow circles. You threw your head back, a string of incoherent curses and moans bubbled from your lips.

You glanced down the length of your body, surprised to see he’d gone to his knees without missing a beat. The top of Sam’s head was nearly at eye level. He met your gaze with a heated glint in his hazel eyes before he leaned forward and nipped the inside of your right thigh. You moaned in response and he repeated the action on the other side. He continued to nibble and kiss as he slid one finger inside you. After a few pumps he added a second finger, scissoring them and groaning when your walls clenched around him. When his tongue lapped at your clit, you nearly jumped out of your skin, your hips bucked and met the thrusts of his fingers.

He smoothed his free hand up your thigh and over your stomach before it came to rest on your breast, he pinched your nipple and twisted gently. You moaned his name as the sensations overwhelmed you. It spurred him on and he moaned against you as he pumped his fingers faster. He flicked his tongue hard against your tiny bundle and you came, screaming and clutching handfuls of his long chestnut hair. He whispered encouragingly against your mound as you rode out your high.

He stood, towering over you and you blushed at the way his chin glistened in the light. You covered your face with the crook of your arm as you gasped for air. You looked up just as he leaned down, and kissed you gently.

“I have wanted to do that since I met you,” Sam said as he pulled back, and traced your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

“Sam, please?” You shimmied your hips against him and he groaned as he straightened. You sat up, and ran your fingertips under the waist of his boxers, clawing at his ass before you shoved them down along with his jeans. Sam’s cock bobbed and without a second thought you had leaned down, and closed your lips around him, quickly swirling your tongue against his head.

“Fuck, y/n!” Sam’s voice was harsh when his hands tangled in your hair. You rolled your eyes up the hard lines of his body, transfixed by the way his chest rose and fell.

One of your hands wrapped around the base of his length and stroked him languidly, while the other gently massaged his balls. You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked, drawing a growl from him. Using the grip he had on your hair he pulled your head back. When his cock popped from your swollen lips, the sound was nearly obscene.

His fingers dug into your hip as he gripped you tight and pulled you to the edge of the table. You reached for him, and ran his velvet head through your slick before you lined him up with your entrance. He covered your hand with his own and stilled your movement. He rested his forehead against the curve of your neck with a sigh.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was low and when it vibrated against your ear it sent shockwaves through your body. He lifted his head and his eyes searched yours. You smiled before you wrapped your free hand around his neck and pulled his lips to yours.

“You won’t.”  

“Lie back,” he said against your lips, one hand shifted to your back as he guided you down.

A quick breath helped steady his nerves and he gripped your hip again. He pushed into you slowly, stopping halfway as your body stretched around him and adjusted to his length. You breathed deeply and rolled your hips ever-so-slightly, an invitation for him to continue. The feel of him inside you was incredible and you cried out as your pelvic bones met. Sam froze, one large hand cupped the side of your face, concern wrinkled his brow.

“Sam, it feels so good. Please? Move!” you dug your nails into his shoulder with a whine.

With hesitation, he pulled out almost completely before sliding in again. A few more slow thrusts and you were about to lose your mind. You rolled your hips urging him on. He grabbed one of your legs and placed it over his hip. He trailed kisses down your neck before he picked up speed.

Moans and curses flowed between you as he drove into you. A familiar heat built in your belly as you rocked your hips against him. Your arms snaked around his back and you pressed him as close as possible to you, while he continued his fevered pace.

Every drag of his length along your walls sent sparks through you, the base of him brushed against your clit with each drive of his hips.

“Sam! Oh...god….ohhh…yes.” You threw your head back. When his teeth grazed against that sweet spot behind your ear, that was it. You clenched around him as your orgasm exploded from your core and splintered through your body. You shouted his name over and over as your release rippled through you.

Sam fucked you harder, chasing his own release until he grunted, and you felt him cum inside you. His body went rigid for a moment before he collapsed on top of you.

The kiss that followed was different than it had been before, and you knew when he pulled back that something had changed between you.

You went to bed that night with his large body draped across yours. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. The sound of his light snore was almost deafening to you as a pang of guilt washed over you. You brushed the thought aside quickly. He didn’t need to know about you and Dean. It would only put a rift between the brothers that was unnecessary.  

That night was the beginning of it all. Soon, you and Sam had become inseparable and moving into the bunker had seemed like the most logical next step. Days were spent studying lore and researching cases, while the nights were spent in each other’s arms. The days and nights turned into weeks. The same insipid thought lulled you to sleep every night. Dean.

Of course a relationship with Sam meant a considerable amount of time spent with Dean. You’d been worried that things would be uncomfortable with him, but you’d been pleasantly surprised to find you were wrong. So much so, that you’d begun to wonder if your triste had even been real.

In fact things were so relaxed with Dean, that as the weeks turned into months, the two of you fell into an easy friendship filled with laughter and inside jokes. Any thought of what had happened so long ago faded into nothing more than a distant memory.

That is, until two weeks ago. Jody had called asking for Sam’s help on some case up north. Dean had just returned from a hunt with Castiel and had gotten a little banged up. He said he wanted to hang back at the bunker, take a day or so to recover.

The morning you and Sam had planned to leave you woke up feeling like shit. He’d insisted you stay and get some rest, despite your fervent protests to the contrary. Long story short, you’d lost and wound up in you and Sam’s bed, buried neck deep in a sea of blankets. For the entire day you barely moved, except for the occasional bathroom break. You spent the day alternating between catching up on the newest episodes of a British murder mystery show you enjoyed and napping.

A knock at the door startled you from your binging and you sat up and paused the show before glancing at the clock. It was later than you’d thought. The door swung open and Dean stumbled through. You smiled warmly at your friend, his cheeks were rosy and the smell of whiskey lingered on his breath as he got close.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Don’t you ‘hey’ me, y/n.” You frowned at him, confused.

“What crawled up your ass, Winchester?”

“Nothing, but I know what’s been up yours!” His words were sloppy and he rocked back on his heels, nearly losing his balance before gripping the edge of the bed.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your head hurt and having to deal with this mess did not seem like the rest and relaxation Sam had had in mind when he’d left that morning.

“I am talking about you and that asshole brother of mine,” he narrowed his eyes at you, flicking one finger back and forth between you. “I am talking about you and I.”

Read Part 2 HERE

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