#it starts with a photo of the narrator as a baby

[airandangels]

I first learned the word "bogus" from Danny the Champion of the World by Roald Dahl, in which Danny warns us that if somebody smiles with their mouth but the look in their eyes doesn't change, "it's sure to be bogus." In some editions (I'm not sure if this is a US/UK thing or an updating thing) the word is replaced with "phoney," which I find less satisfying. There are just a few words where I can specifically remember what or who I learned them from; "bogus" is one and "brittle" is another (my mother explaining why I might not be able to keep the little plastic cocktail animal* that was on the rim of my milkshake glass at a restaurant forever)

In both cases, I think I initially thought of the word as just having that extremely specific meaning (the falsity of a smile that doesn't reach the eyes, the fragility of thin inflexible plastic), didn't encounter it again for some time, and when it came up again in a different context I was like "What are you doing here?"

*twas a donkey

[rainydayathogwarts]

Love, Mum and Dad - Harry, James x reader

summary: Harry gets the memory book you and James made for him to open on his 17th birthday, but he gets it a little sooner, and discovers things about the family he could have had. (angst/fluff) wc: 2.8k

Sirius didn’t know if it was the time to give Harry the memory book. The gift you’d planned on building until Harry was 17, when you’d finally give it to him. At James’s bachelor party — a small gathering between him, Sirius, Frank Longbottom and the Prewett twins (You had claimed Remus for your bachelorette), James had excitedly revealed what you’d told him. “She said, I want to start collecting all our memories from when we started dating to make a memory book. A memory book that we can keep making until our future baby is an adult, and then we’ll give it to him.” The boys had all cheered, giving James a few pats on the back. “So apparently she wants us to have a son, and I know exactly what I want to name him.” He had joyfully laughed along with the others, refusing to reveal the name of his future boy, claiming that it’s somehow bad luck.

Now that Harry was actually here at Grimmauld Place, even at the age of 15, Sirius knew he had to give him the book. Sirius knew Harry was insecure, doubting that anyone loved him at all, and especially facing such dark times, he knew Harry could use the love of his parents, a love that had saved his life once before.

Harry was a wanderer, he couldn’t sleep at night, so Sirius was not surprised to find him in his family’s make shift library, scanning through all the outdated titles. Sirius made himself known by clearing his throat from where he stood in the doorway. Harry jumped, spinning around to look at Sirius, who held the memory book in his right hand. Harry’s godfather told him to follow him to a private room, one with a pensieve he hadn’t seen before. “This is from your parents. They wanted to give it to you when you became an adult, but given the circumstances…” Sirius averted his teary gaze as Harry took the book in his hands, flicking through the pages, his breath becoming heavier as he caught glimpses of moving images in the book.

“Each and every memory… Just don’t forget to put them back.” And with that, a teary eyed Sirius left Harry alone. When Harry properly opened the first page of the photo book, he found small tubes with glimmering memories next to each photo. His breath shook. He looked at the first picture.

The first image of you and James had been taken from afar, as though someone had been spying on you. When he released the memory into the pensieve below, he quickly learned that Sirius and Remus had been the ones spying on you, on your first date. Harry had laughed, listening to Sirius constantly narrating everything to a muggle camera he held, watching as he and Remus quickly ran behind people to avoid being seen by you. Harry quickly learned through these memories that not every memory would make him laugh, and that he would actually shed a few more tears than intended.

This next memory was different than all the other celebrations — the anniversaries, the weddings — Harry realised, as he watched you nervously tuck your hair behind your ear. You were in the kitchen of the house you and James had just moved into. It wasn’t decorated yet, with the exception of a single image of you and James on your wedding day. Your entire house was barely furnished, with James taking on all the building due to the growing baby in your belly. Harry jumped up on the counter to watch the scene in front of him unfold. You had a worried crease between your eyebrows, and you leaned back on the counter, staring at the warm batch of cookies you had baked. James walked in front of you with a smile, his arms sliding under your sweater to rest on your small bump — one Harry hadn’t realised was present until James brought it to his attention. Harry hopped off the counter, taking slow steps towards you to admire your baby bump. He tried reaching out to touch it, but his hand went right through you.

“What if they say no James, what if they don’t want to?” You asked worriedly, looking up at James. “Baby,” James started with a chuckle, “They’re going to be the most excited people on earth.” You huffed doubtfully, a small pout on your lips that James happily pressed his lips to. “James.” You muttered, but before your new husband could reply, the front door slammed open. “Honey, I’m home!” Sirius loudly called, causing you and James to laugh, though you had clear distress laced in your voice. “I really don’t know why we keep apparating outside your front door when we just end up barging in anyway.” Sirius announced as he walked into the kitchen. “Oh hey, cookies!”“I for one, suggested to knock.” Clarified Remus as he followed his boyfriend into the room. James moved from where he stood in front of you so that your best friends could see you.

James tutted, snatching the plate of freshly bakes cookies from the table just as Sirius reached out to take one, causing the boy to frown. “In the living room.” The two boys went silent, Sirius running a hand through his hair as Remus nervously tugged on the sleeves of his sweater. James gestured to the door, letting the boys wander out so that he could wrap his free arm around your waist, tugging you close to his side to kiss your cheek.

Harry eagerly followed you all into the living room, which he noticed looked painfully bare. It looked like something that was becoming a family’s first home, though it wasn't quite there yet. There were so many pictures laid out on the coffee table, empty picture frames stacked beside them. In a corner of the room, tools were scattered on the floor, wooden parts and instructions beside them. Harry theorised that it might be a crib in the making.

“Okay, sit down, have a cookie.” You said, hands clasped in front of you. You took in a deep breath as Remus and Sirius both cautiously reached for a cookie, watching as James hugged you from behind, his hands snaking around your waist to rest on your stomach. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and decided to take initiative when you opened and closed your mouth a couple of times. “So you guys know we’re having a baby.” The two boys nodded, and Harry watched closely as Sirius put a hand on Remus’s thigh. “We want you guys to be the godparents!” You squeaked loudly, physically cringing as you revealed the information.

“Shut up!” Sirius screamed, immediately jumping up on his feet with a giant smile on his face as he ran up to hug you. James threw his hands up in the air jealously, watching his best friend hug his wife, and accepting the hug Remus offered him. “This is what you baked cookies for?” Remus asked with a smile when he let go of James to wrap his arms around you tightly. You nodded, tears filling your eyes, and Remus pulled you close to his chest as you sniffled. “So is that a yes?” Your question was immediately answered by the two boys, with Sirius saying “This calls for drinks!” before apologising profusely as he immediately realised that you could, in fact, not drink. This time when you laughed at his words, it was genuine.

Harry was smiling widely, desperate to join in on the shared hugs when he took notice of the lump in his throat that made it hard to swallow. Not wanting to cry, the teenager left the memory, returning it to its glass tube before putting the next one in the pensieve.

This time, Harry is somewhere new. Somewhere he’s never been before. A warm house, with a similar atmosphere to the Burrow. There’s bustling energy, and a special kind of joy in the air. The only person Harry recognises in the room is Sirius, who leads a woman into the living room of the house with an arm familiarly thrown over her shoulder. The woman looks like someone he knows, but he can’t tell who. It’s only when the mysterious woman is led towards an unknown man that it clicks for Harry. His father is the spitting image of the man in front of him, and therefore, so is he. “Oh Euphemia, I can’t believe we’re meeting our grandbaby.” The man says, hugging his wife tightly. The pair doesn’t look nearly old enough to have grandchildren, they barely look like they’re in their 40s. Someone comes in from the garden door, saying “I’ve picked the apples for you Mrs. Potter, is there anything else I can do?” But she only thanks Remus, who's wrapped in countless warm layers of clothing, asking him to put the apples in the kitchen.

There’s two soft knocks on the front door, and the entire room goes silent as James’s parents rush to open the door. James shyly smiles at them, his arm protectively wrapped around your side. Euphemia immediately bursts into tears when her eyes land on you and your newborn baby, only a few days old. Fleamont wraps his arms around his son, who instantly begins crying like his mother, and Remus ushers you into the house, closing the door behind you to protect you from the chilly weather. Euphemia wants to hug you, but she's too busy wiping her tears away as she asks questions about your health and delivery, making sure you’re okay. You nudge your husband’s side, and he happily takes Harry from your arms, showing him off to the other three men in the room.

Euphemia hugs you tightly before leading you to sit down and instantly handing you some tea. She lets the men rave over the little baby boy, but she’s concerned for the new mother's health. It doesn’t take long for James to come back to your side carrying Harry in his arms, and he takes his mother’s place next to you on the couch. He doesn’t let anyone hold Harry, too happy to finally be able to hold him himself after you've spent nine months doing so. Present Harry walks across the room, between Sirius and his grandfather, over the gifts on the floor and past his beautiful grandmother to sit on the arm of the couch next to you. He looks at his young sleeping figure, only born days ago, and knows how much he is loved. By his parents, grandparents, godparents, and all your friends and family.

And he knows it’s too much. All Harry ever wanted was for his parents to be alive, and the thought of the life he could be living with them right now makes him feel as though his heart has been ripped out of his chest. He would do anything to be back in that position again: in his parents’ arms, a joyful family around him. He didn’t even need his grandparents there; you two would have been enough.

Harry needs to take a moment for himself when he finally breaks away from his memory. He leans on a table for support, taking in heaving breaths as he sobs and sobs, tears dripping on the ground. The small glass tube containing the memory rolls onto the floor and Harry dives to catch it, holding it close to his chest as pain runs through his entire body. These memories should have made him happy, he thinks, so why do they hurt so much? Harry gasps for oxygen, trying to urge his panic and sadness away, trying to turn it into happiness for the things he had, for the love he still has. Slowly, he pushes himself off the ground, moving all the way to the last page of your memory book and taking out the corresponding tube.

When Harry is sucked into the pensieve again, the atmosphere has completely changed. He’s located back at home again, in Godric’s Hollow, where you and James had built your forever home. The sole sight of the homey and safe atmosphere has tears clouding Harry’s vision again, but his feet bring him further down the entryway and into the living room of your house. The first thing Harry does is take in the sight of the decorated house, made to look like his very own heaven. The lighting is warm, photos of family and friends hung up on the wall next to the fireplace. The room is filled with plants, and a small crib was placed next to an armchair. And here you are: sat there with James on the couch, sharing a passionate kiss. The moment is intimate, with your legs tangled up and James’s hand cupping your jaw, but Harry can’t bring himself to look away from you. “James.” He hears you mumble in the kiss, eyes fluttering open as you let James’s familiarity envelop you. “My sweetheart.” James echoes, his eyes still shut as he immerses himself in the moment.

Harry gulps loudly, harshly wiping a tear off his cheek as he watches his dad’s eyes slowly open, a wide smile forming on his face when he finds your eyes already on him. You laugh softly as your husband kisses you again, but you instantly pull away from him, eyes going wide with alert. Harry frowns, his expression matching his father’s, and that’s he he hears it: the soft padding of feet on the floor, and a quiet call of “Mama?” Harry’s eyes are instantly glued to his younger self, appearing around the corner on wobbly feet.

Your body runs past him in a flash, travelling across the living room on quick feet to kneel in front of your son. Young Harry makes grabby hands at you, and you immediately scoop him up in your arms, speaking to him in a soft whisper. “What’s wrong sweetheart? You hungry?” You ask, cradling him in your arms. Young Harry makes an incomprehensible noise, and Harry laughs in adoration. He has to be a year or two in this memory. Harry glances back to where James now stands up, walking over to his family, where he wraps his arms around both of you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Think he’s hungry.” You tell your husband, who hums, leading you to the couch to sit down. James helps you pull your jumper up just enough for baby Harry to latch on to your breast, humming in innocent satisfaction. You smile down at him, running a hand through his soft short hair. James carefully wraps an arm around your shoulder, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as you blink tiredly. Harry stares at the perfect image of the family in front of him, and soon enough, realises he’s not the only one crying. James is sniffling next to you, taking in shaky breaths in a poor attempt not to disturb you or baby Harry. You lift your head off your husband’s shoulder to look up at him, and smile lovingly at him, a hand lifting off the back of Harry’s head to wipe at James’s tears. “James.” You whisper, and he instantly opens his mouth, voice breaking as he says “I love you both so, so much.” And his words have a sob wracking out of present Harry’s chest.

He floats out of the memory just as you bring James into a short kiss, the sight of him being loved by his parents the last thing he sees before finding himself standing at the foot of the pensieve again. Harry shuts the memory book, closing his eyes tightly — it’s enough for one lonesome night. But something catches his attention as his hand rests on the back of the book. An odd texture under his fingertips, forming crevices into the leather. Harry’s eyes flutter open, and he notices a gold engraving into the book. Engravings that form letters, words. A note.

Dear Harry,

You’re finally an adult!!! You can do anything you ever wanted, even without our permission. And move out if we’re too annoying sometimes, though that feels wrong to write with you sitting in front of us as a little baby boy. We just wanted you to know that no matter where you are, or what you’re doing, we’ll always support you and be here for you. And not just us, everyone in this book, everyone who forms your family.

We love you so much Harry, and even though you’re all grown now, you’ll always be our baby, just like in these first memories.

Love,

Mum and Dad

To say the least, Harry doesn't sleep that night.

[lazycats-stuff]

I remember back when i was a few months old and still using a baby walker, I'll wake up early morning but my parents will be too exhausted to get up yet so my older sister will put me in the walker in front of the TV and turn on something like national geographic or anything about animals then I'm entertained for hours(might take a stroll around the livingroom but with my eyes still on the tv) even though i understood nothing lol, can i see something like that with batfam and babybat? I feel like this is something batbros will definitely do if they're too tired to entertain their baby brother but still want to hangout with him(they just end up open mouthed staring at the tv just like the baby < Bruce's favourite site in the morning)

Oh my God, that is completely adorable. My parents also gave me a walker and I would only watch Incredibles and that would entertain me for hours.

Summary: A nice morning with the fam.

Warnings: fluff, fluffy morning, everyone loves the baby, Alfred love too... I just love the fam...

Taking care of a baby is exhausting. Any parent will tell you that. And it also takes a village to raise a child, which is also true. Very much true if you ask any parent who is dealing with a baby in a moment. (Y/N) Wayne joined the family a year ago, as a newborn whose mom didn't feel ready to take care of him.

Bruce didn't judge her for it and he happily took his son in, introducing him to the rest of the family. Everyone took a liking to the little baby and they showered the boy with affection and love. One of them made sure to be home at night, taking a break from patrol to take care of their brother for the night.

It was nice to take a break from the patrol and intense stress it brings and some could argue that taking care of a baby is more stressful, but the Wayne family had to disagree with those people. (Y/N) was an easy baby, by every single definition. He ate on time, slept on time, got a lot of cuddles and they all played with him.

All in all, it was amazing and stress free. All boys waited for their night off, alongside Bruce. Nothing could be better. Absolutely nothing could top that one night where they take care of their baby brother and their son.

But they were all exhausted beyond belief. And ever since (Y/N) has started walking, the little baby has a lot of energy to investigate. So Bruce got him a walker to that the little baby could walk around the living room and the kitchen. It's an adorable sight to see a baby just walking around like that, giggles and normal baby noise following him around.

Of course, the boys carried him all the time, just cuddling him and kiss his cheeks and head and smelling his scalp for that baby smell. Bruce had to admit, that baby smell is something interesting. He has heard of it, but he didn't think it was a real thing.

The more you know.

And for some reason, (Y/N) loves National Geographic. Maybe it's the colorful animals or just the voice of the narrator, but it made his eyes glued to the TV, mouth agape as he was watching the animals and listening to the voice, despite not understanding anything, he was glued to the TV.

So what do the brothers do when they are too exhausted to entertain their little brother, but still want to hang out with their baby brother?

They put the National Geographic on, put (Y/N) in his walker and then the four older kids just lay down on the couch and try to catch some sleep.

But that never really goes well, because they watch the animals too and they are shocked, mirroring (Y/N)'s expressions, but from a whole another reason. They were shocked by the facts and the looks of certain animals.

What the hell?

While every single child on the couch was in shock from the sheer diversity of their planet Earth, Bruce would just walk in quietly and watch for a few minutes. It was absolutely adorable and Bruce took a few photos and videos.

And those things will be the one thing he cherishes the most. He will print out those pictures and frame them on the wall one day and then put them on the wall. He smiled as he went to the kitchen where Alfred was already heating up a bottle of milk for their little bat.

Yes, the little bat was (Y/N)'s nickname. And yes. Bruce has made it happen.

Alfred handed the warm bottle to Bruce who made his way to the living room, taking (Y/N) into his arms and then putting him in his lap, making sure he could still the TV and then giving him his bottle to eat and be full.

The older boys didn't even bat an eyes as their brother was being fed.

" Do you see this old man? " Jason asked Bruce, not even taking his eyes off of the TV.

Bruce chuckled and nodded. " Yes, animal world is an interesting world. "

Damian tilted his head, mouth agape from the sights on the TV. (Y/N)'s eyes were still on the TV, but were closing from the feeding. Feeding often made him relaxed and sleepy, no matter what time of the day it is.

Bruce gently rocked his son as he finished feeding and then burped him. Bruce cooed at his son and then put him back into his walker. His five sons were still in trance while watching the National Geographic.

" What the hell is going on? " Tim asked as he tilted his head, eyes wide as he watched in shock.

Dick moved closer to the edge of the couch, trying to see in more detail. Bruce smile and took (Y/N) into his own arms, cuddling with the baby, gently kissing his head. (Y/N) cooed and laugh and Damian stood up, coming closer to the screen.

" What is going on here? " Damian asked as he observed the screen and animals on it.

" Now I see why (Y/N) is so in love with National Geographic. So many colors and the voice of the narrator is really nice too. " Damian said and moved to Bruce to take his brother into his arms. Both half brothers looked at the screen in wonder.

The love from animals seems to go deep in this family it seems. Everyone loves animals and the estate is slowly turning into an animal shelter. Bruce didn't mind it at all.

At that moment, Titus walked to Damian, snout sniffing (Y/N)'s socks. (Y/N) giggled from the sensation and Damian lowered down the baby so that Titus can sniff (Y/N), but not the face and hands. Titus huffed and hoped on the couch, laying his body over Tim and Jason who petted the big dog.

" Did you take Titus out for a walk Damian? " Bruce asked and Damian nodded.

" Yes I did. He did everything he needed to do and we played with his ball. " Damian explained and cooed at (Y/N), giving him a kiss on the head afterwards.

" He is just adorable. " Damian said as he held his brother and sat down on the couch. (Y/N) closed his eyes and just relaxed, almost going to sleep.

Alfred smiled from the kitchen and ever so discreetly walked over to the living room and snapped a picture for himself. It would go in his private folder, one with all pictures with his grandsons and Bruce. But this was a new folder, made in (Y/N)'s honor.

He never had a chance to have his own, biological family, but families are not bounded by blood. Families are bound by a sense of loyalty, love, support... That's what a family is all about. Alfred put his phone away and sat down on the couch, squeezing himself in with everyone.

It was cramped, but it was more cozy and more intimate. The boys greeted Alfred with smiles, but their eyes never left the screen. It seems that (Y/N) greeted him too, arms reaching out for Alfred, who took his youngest grandson into his arms, kissing his cheek.

" This is a nice morning. No one is rushing, everything is peaceful... We need more morning like this. " Alfred said and everyone has agreed to it.

They truly need more mornings like this... Alfred glanced down at his grandson, who was looking at him with his big baby eyes. Alfred sighed and smiled, kissing his cheek and wrapping him in a warm blanket to keep him warm.

[happiest-hotch]

Father's Day

for the biggest dilf out there <3

Summary: Father's Day morning at the Hotchner household.

Word Count: 1.8k

As almost every morning for the past eight months started, you wake up to baby cries from Noah. Lately, it's through the baby monitor, the other camera set up in the nursery down the hall, but prior to that, it was a bassinet in the master bedroom, and the journey to soothe your crying baby was shorter.

At this point, it's reflexive to haul yourself out of bed when that special alarm rings, just like how it's natural for you to respond when you hear him cry.

Aaron stretches out and places a large hand on your thigh to stop you from getting up, but his head still rests against the white pillows, jet-black hair tousled.

"I'll get him." He says, mostly still asleep. He hasn't even opened his eyes.

"Don't worry." You assure him, voice thick with sleep. "Sleep in a little." You instruct him, squeezing his hand as you get out of bed and straighten the bedding. "It's Father's Day, after all."

He doesn't protest, just lets his hand drop on the comforter where you would usually lay.

You slip off into the hall, stepping through the quiet house. It's rarely like that nowadays, and you love the noise and chaos with your whole heart.

You hear the crying when you open the door to Noah's room, but it quietens when he recognizes you. He's the cutest thing you've ever seen, holding onto the crib bars to support his weight with wet tears on his cheeks. He looks most similar to the baby photos you've seen of Jack which is cute since you didn't know Jack until he was five. Adding to the list of adorable things about him, Noah's perfected the Hotchner stare when he gets grumpy.

"Good morning, sweet baby." You coo, picking him up and resting him on your hip so you can hug him. He looks at you with eyes identical to Aaron's, a rich brown.

Noah gurgles a response, grasping at your hair with his chubby fingers. It amazes you, how he's learning to communicate.

"Today is Father's Day." You tell him. Narrating your day has become common as you attempt to broaden his vocabulary. "So, we get to celebrate daddy." He's a while away from speaking, but he definitely understands who Daddy is and he giggles in the cutest way. "And he can't tell us it's too much. He probably will, but today, we don't have to listen."

After you take him out of his sleep sack and change him, like has become routine, you make your way to the kitchen with him.

"Are you hungry?" You ask rhetorically, seating him in his highchair. "I bet you are. Those bedtime bottles don't keep you full all day as well as all night, but Mommy loves that you're not waking up at night." He babbles back at you with the most adorable smile. "So, what do you think? Oatmeal sound good? Then some eggs with Jack and Daddy?"

You do what you promise, making him breakfast while he sits there smiling. You've never known a smilier baby than he is. While the oatmeal cooks, you get started beating some eggs to make breakfast for your other favorite people.

With cooked oatmeal, you put the bacon in a pan and leave it to cook so you can feed Noah.

"Here, sweet boy." You coo, squatting down and holding out a thick, plastic spoon of cooled oatmeal. "I bet you're growing and that's why you're so hungry. We're going to have to start buying you one-year-old clothes soon." You joke. He's a good eater like he's a good sleeper, easy as well as adorable, and he swallows his breakfast down.

The bacon starts sizzling in the background, and you leave the spoon on the tray, hoping he'll feed himself, while you get started on the eggs and flipping the bacon.

Noah isn't with the plan, and his tears start pretty quickly, accompanied by screams that could threaten to wake the house. He throws the spoon you were using to feed him on the floor carelessly.

"Sweetie, it's okay." You comfort him from the kitchen, but his cheeks are turning red pretty quickly, and you can't rush over to feed him without burning breakfast. It feels like an impossible juggle some days.

Just as the situation threatens to get worse, Aaron walks into the room. "Uh oh, someone's grumpy this morning." He jokes, walking to the cutlery drawer to get him a new spoon.

"I can do it." You jump in, taking the spoon from him while making sure not to burn the eggs.

"It's alright, baby." He assures you. "I'll feed him, you focus on breakfast. It smells delicious, by the way, thank you." As always, he's your perfect, well-mannered husband.

On any other day, you'd be thankful he's there and not somewhere around the country. "But it's Father's Day." You remind him in a whiney tone. "Let me do it. You just-"

Aaron squeezes your hip as he walks past. "Not happening." He says with tenderness. "I don't want you being a married single mom just because it's a random Sunday in June." He squats in front of the highchair where you were before, soothing Noah by running his hand through his soft hair before offering him some food. It does make you feel better when his crying ceases, and it's adorable when his face lights up as he recognizes his dad. "Hey, bubba, no more tears." He coos before turning back to finish what he was saying to you. "And I'm not always here, so I'm definitely going to help out when I am."

"Today's not a day for you to criticize yourself." You remind him, smiling softly. He's so attractive when he's most domestic, dad-like and husband-like. "Especially about being a dad, which, I'll be the first one to say today, you're amazing at."

He chuckles lightly, focusing his attention between feeding Noah and lovingly gazing at you. "Thank you." He tells you. "Not just for that, but for always."

You nod, always grateful you're the person who gets to compliment him endlessly.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Aaron asks in an enticing tone, turning back to look at you with a shy grin.

"Sure." You say, smiling over at him.

"I watch you on the baby monitor sometimes." He admits sheepishly, the collected facade of his slipping like it does when he's being tender. Your cheeks heat slightly at his confession. "And what you say is so sweet. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

Breakfast cooked, you walk over and place your hand on his shoulder. "You deserve it. You hungry?"

He doesn't get out a reply before Jack comes running into the room excitedly, throwing his arms around his dad's neck, so Aaron can hold him to his side.

Noah recognizes him and reaches out for his brother with a grin, breakfast- and crying- forgotten about.

"Good morning! Happy Father's Day." Jack cheers.

"Thanks, buddy," Aaron replies, sweeping his hair out of the way to kiss his forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too," Jack says. He reaches for Aaron's hand that's holding the spoon. "Can I do it?" Watching them interact is something you deeply enjoy, and the responsibility of feeding his brother is a duty Jack takes seriously.

Aaron nods, handing it over and letting Jack feed his brother as he makes his way over to you. He holds your waist, kissing you softly before pulling back and leaving his face an inch from yours. "Hi." He whispers.

"Hi." You say back, leaning up to kiss him once before wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him while you watch the boys.

It's your happy place. Still and full of love.

"Breakfast?" Aaron asks because although he doesn't want to stop feeling your warm body against his, the food is getting cold.

You rest your head on his chest, looking at Jack and Noah. "Are you hungry Jack?"

He looks at you with wide eyes. "Starving." He exaggerates the word.

"Bacon and eggs?" You offer, although it's already made and he won't turn it down.

"Please, please!" He replies excitedly, leaving Noah's food on the highchair. "But I have to get something." He remembers before racing off out of the kitchen.

You frown, looking as confused as Aaron. You pull apart, you to serve breakfast, and Aaron to tempt Noah with some more oatmeal, but it seems he heard what you offered his brother and no longer wants what you made him. Thankfully, he's much more willing to feed himself eggs and picks some up as soon as you set down his plate.

Jack comes back when the plates are on the table, taking his seat with a sly smile and his hands behind his back.

"What do you have?" Aaron asks with a soft smile at Jack's animated expression.

"This," Jack reveals a card, handing it over to his dad.

The words on the front are definitely his handwriting, reading Happy Father's Day in messy, lopsided black letters. There's a stick figure family at the bottom, and Aaron's wearing a cape reminiscent of a superhero.

"Wow, this is amazing." Aaron compliments him, tears in his eyes at the thoughtful card. "You did this?"

Jack nods before making Aaron open the card and pointing at a paint mark on the bottom. "But Noah did this." He explains. "He can't hold a pen, though, so I had to put the paint on his finger and stamp it for him."

Aaron's face softens even more, if possible. "Thank you. This is the best gift I've gotten, aside from you and Noah." He looks at you, making sure you know he's grateful you made him a dad again.

"What's the best part about being a father?" Jack asks randomly.

Aaron pauses, his mind filled with memories and emotions. "The best part." He starts, voice thick with emotion. "Getting to raise you and Noah, and watching you grow up and become a really awesome, kind, intelligent, and funny person. And being there for you no matter what."

"I like you being my dad," Jack tells him.

"I like being your dad too," Aaron replies, squeezing his hand. You can see the tears in his eyes, but it's too early for tears.

"And Noah's?" Jack asks, looking at his little brother.

Aaron nods, looking at his youngest and then at you. "Of course, Noah too."

It might just be a random Sunday in June, but Father's Day serves as a reminder of his privilege of being a dad, the unconditional love he has for them, and how much he appreciates having you by his side. Aaron Hotchner just loves being a dad.

[kindaasrikal]

I got bored so now I’m slapping you all with Lloyd headcanons from someone who percieves him as a stupid teenager. Yippe.

Lloyd, despite everything, is the BEST when it comes to money. Especially with negotiations. If the original price of something is ‘unfair’ to Lloyd, he will make sire that price of 300 drops down to 20 bucks. No one understands how he does it, least of all Ronin who feels like he just got robbed of 280.

Lloyd’s hair is naturally blonde, the same shade as Wu’s, whose hair was exactly like Lloyd’s grandfathers, the Fsm. Misako, Garmadon, and Wu all already knew that Lloyd got the blonde from the Fsm, but Lloyd, oh poor innocent dumb 10/15 year old (early seasons, so right after the tea and after they met Misako) Lloyd, had a crisis over it. After finding out Misako and Wu were almost a thing, and having no idea how the Fsm looks like, he waddled over to Wu one night, tears in his eyes, and asks his uncle why he has blonde hair. Wu, not thinking much of it, was prepared to start explaining science to him as well as show a picture of the Fsm. Until, he saw the rhetorical worry and the accusation in Lloyd’s eyes.

“Ah…nephew. What are you really asking me right now?…”

“Wu…Garmadon is my dad, right?????” And Lloyd’s about to start sobbing. Wu had to sit him down, explain he would never, and bombard Lloyd with photo’s of the Fsm and young Garmadon, who looks exactly like Lloyd. Safe to say that the next day Zane began teaching Lloyd everything he should’ve learnt in school. Specifically science.

Lloyd, after losing his element by almost dying, learnt how to manually make his eyes glow. So sometimes it’s a dim light, other times he rivals a flash light. He loves using it in staring contests, he cackled the first tike he used it on Jay who yelped back and couldn’t see anything other than a weird shadow light thing for the rest of the day. Jay then bribed Zane to do that to Lloyd, who learnt his lesson to only ever flash his eyes at Kai.

Lloyd used to read fanfiction on Wattpad years ago in Darkley’s, so sometimes when he’s captured or in a situation, he starts narrating like a 14 year old girl with a crush on BTS/Harry Styles/One Direction. “My glowing green emerald eyes stared deeply into the abyss, hoping someone, anyone would come save me…and slowly, as my lean and strong body wiggled for freedom, I saw Fritz Donnegan-” “LLOYD I SWEAR WHEN WE GET OUT-”

Lloyd knows how to tap dance. To doom.

Once, Lloyd tried to be Spider-Man by using his element to make green lasso’s or smth. Little did he know he almost blew up half of Ninjago city when everything he grabbed with them started blowing up. You learn something new everyday. Though, the Commissioner didn’t like that excuse all that much.

Lloyd enjoys growing his extras two arms out and then hanging off of Cole’s back like how baby’s do with the baby carriers. He didn’t like that comparison all that much, Kai.

Lloyd is the type of person to do things so reckless, especially when it comes to emotionally attached villains. He will happily cuss out his dad when he’s on a oni rampage, yes he will go out and have coffee with Harumi, the girl who is knows to all of Ninjago city as the quiet one and call her “Salumi” the whole time, yes he will summon Morro and tell him all the cool stuff he did as the real green ninja, yes he will visit Pythor and give him snake food as a present. All of them are concerned and/or annoyed.

Not many people realised how much Lloyd looked like Misako until he wore her glasses as a joke. She started lecturing him about how bad his eye sight could get if he kept doing that, and all he said was “I’m not even human, i don’t count.”

Once Lloyd went to a place that prides itself for its inclusivity, and then had no idea if he should go to the mens bathroom, the dragons bathroom, or the oni’s bathroom. After taking a peak into the latter two, he quickly decided the mens bathroom is safer. Much safer. He dragged Nya to help him complain to the restaurant about there being no dragoni bathrooms around here and got free food out of it. So worth the embarrassment of saying “How am i supposed to reach the toilet??? HOW????”

[stargazerlily7210]

So, in an effort to continue my reign as Queen of Overthing Everything I Love, here's two more things I've noticed while rewatching Church on Ruby Road...again.

1) How The Doctor words his telling of the story of Ruby being found. His narration of the story goes like this:

"Once upon a time, late on Christmas Eve, a stranger came to the church on Ruby Road.

"She carried in her arms the most precious gift of all: A newborn child. A baby girl.

"Just before midnight, she left her daughter on the steps of the church.

"The child was taken in, and they named her Ruby after the place where she was found.

"As for the mother, she was never seen again. No one ever knew her name...

"Until that night a time traveler came to call. A traveler known as The Doctor."

Now, certain parts of that feel like artistic liberties for the sake of the story/fairytale vibe. (Ex. "...on the steps of the church" as we watch Ruby be placed on the ground in front of the door, no steps insight.)

I've already made a post about why I think the woman being Ruby's mother is likely one of those artistic liberties, but that's not what this is about.

This time, I'm caught up on the "No one ever knew her name UNTIL..."

The only ways to take the whole last part of his story is that when The Doctor arrives during that scene, are a) he knows her name in that moment, or b) somehow his arrival causes an unnamed but relevant someone else to know her name.

And while, that alone wouldn't be enough to warrant this post, it did feel intentional. Especially considering that by the end of the episode, as far as we can tell, there's no known reason/opportunity for The Doctor to have learned her identity yet.

Which leads me to my next point.

2) I can't help but wonder if we're intentionally being misled. Because the scene we're shown at the beginning during The Doctor's story is not the same as what we see in the end of the episode when The Doctor goes back to rescue Ruby from the goblins.

And I can prove it.

It's shot as if it's the same scene twice, and we're clearly meant to think we've just caught up to what we saw at the start of the episode.

Pardon my poor quality photos (idk how to get screen shots from either iplayer or disney+) but look:

These are from the start of the episode. Note: the tears actively running down his cheeks.

BUT!

These are from the "same" moment but at the end of the episode. Note: watery eyes, but no active tears spilling over.

Now I understand enough about the filming process to know there can absolutely be minor inconsistencies between shots as the various takes are edited together to create the final product. But why bother to edit and use different, identically framed shots that are supposed to be of the same moment, but don't line up? Especially when it's a closeup of a single person?

It just seems intentional to me. Especially when you consider my first point in tandem with it.

I think what we hear/see at the beginning isn't what we see in the episode. Maybe it happens later after Ruby and The Doctor figure out the identity of the woman/Ruby's mother.

Thoughts?

[redroomreflections]

The Ghost in The Window Chapter 2

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: As a former child star and one-half of one of Hollywood's most powerful couples, you’re no stranger to the dangers of the spotlight. Life has just begun to settle for you as you navigate motherhood, marriage, and your career. When a fan-turned-stalker gets a bit too close for comfort, everything is turned upside down

Note: Uploading the WIPs too.

W/c: 5.9k

chapter 1

You awoke to the sound of a baby crying and crackling from the baby monitor on your nightstand. You adjusted your position in bed, lying on your side, peeking one eye open to view the screen. For just a few seconds you were hoping that Grace would fall asleep again. Of course, that would be too easy and to no surprise, she’s awake in her crib. You reach out a hand to feel for your phone, finding it under the bundle of blankets, to see it’s only six in the morning. You guess your day would be starting now. It doesn’t take you long to rush to the bathroom to relieve yourself and then make your way to the nursery. You stop at Rose’s bedroom to see her lying peacefully amongst a mountain of stuffed animals in her bed. You close her bedroom door again and leave her to sleep. At least one of you is getting that luxury.

You have Carla on standby when needed but you’d instead do all of this on your own. In the months between work, there’s always something to do. Motherhood was just one of them. It’s your favorite part and though it gets lonely without Natasha here you know she’s never too far away. You step into Grace’s bedroom, tapping the light switch to flood the room, while you grab her from her crib. She’s cuddly this morning as she lies her head on your shoulder.

“First, we get a diaper change, and then Mommy needs her coffee,” You narrate the entire day to Grace. You lie her atop the changing table, one you rarely use, as you quickly get her all cleaned up. “I know that was uncomfortable. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Her whining dies down to slight sniffles as she looks up at you. She’s enamored by you and your speaking voice. She grabs onto one of the pacifiers lying near her head to press it into her mouth.

Once that’s settled you head down to the first floor where you find Mocha waiting at the kitchen doors to be let out. You unlock the french doors with one and open it wide enough for the Mocha to go and relieve himself.

Next, you try to put Grace in her high chair to free up your hands but she’s having none of it. Her cries of protest are heard, so you keep her on your hip as you prepare a coffee. Using a Keurig is an easy enough process, and you use it efficiently. Grace watches you for a little longer before deciding she’s ready for her breakfast. She tugs at the material of your tank top with chubby hands, hoping to free one of your breasts.

“Mommy’s trying to hurry,” You say. While you wait for the coffee to finish, you go onto the patio to place your planner and phone on the table. You’re honestly doing a lot for a relaxing morning at home. When the coffee’s done, you take extra care to keep it out of arm's reach of Grace. You sit in a cozy spot where you can see the view of Los Angeles from your backyard. The sun had only risen an hour ago and was already shining brightly. It’s a peaceful morning if you do say so yourself. You position Grace in your arms, shifting your tank top up, and wait for her to latch on. Her suckling is steady and strong. She’ll be occupied for the next twenty minutes. You crack open your planner, eyeing the next week's dates as you go over your schedule. You have an outfit fitting and a photo shoot tomorrow, a brunch with friends in two days, and a party that you’re throwing in a couple of nights.

It’s an end-of-summer party that you host annually. Friends and family all get together to celebrate various accomplishments and goals they’ve tackled throughout the summer. You’re honestly just ready for the fun to begin. You spend several months of the year working your ass off and you deserve to celebrate. You open up a notes page on your phone to go through the checklist you’ve been keeping for the past week. You’re having the party here at home so the guest list isn’t too big. Your house is big enough to fit about sixty people. Anything more and it would be bursting at the seams. There’s no real theme. However, you’re bound to call it a summer splash party or something. The invitations have been sent and RSVPs are coming back by the buckets. There’s also catering and a personal chef coming to bring food. When you said a small party you might be lying. This thing may turn out to be something more than you imagined it would be. Those usually turned out to be more fun.

You’re finishing up with your checklist just in time to switch Grace to your other breast. She’s content and happy as she fills her tummy. The next few minutes are spent in silence as you sip your coffee. You should think about breakfast. Natasha is coming home today and you wonder if she would enjoy something homemade or a restaurant meal. Rose loves IHOP and you’re sure neither of them would protest going to the family chain.

Speaking of Rose, the princess is awake, and a tad bit grumpy as she opens the patio doors to come and greet you. She curls into your side, her head on your arm, as she grumbles.

“Oh, is someone grumpy today?” You ask and she nods her head. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Mama’s not here yet,” Rose frowns and you know the feeling. Life is always so much better with Natasha there. You brush her coils out of her face, her bonnet must have fallen off sometime in the night, to see her eyes. She pouts up at you and gets a little annoyed when you smile.

“You’re in luck,” You tell her. “We are going to pick Mama up from the airport in about an hour. I was going to go on my own but you’re awake so you can go too.” You offer and Rose smiles.

“Can we get her flowers?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” You say. “We can pick them up on the way there.”

It was settled. You would be getting Natasha flowers, picking her up from the airport, and then hopefully breakfast. In that order.

**************************

There’s only one small teeny tiny detail you forgot when it comes to airport runs to LAX. Don’t do them. It’s a confusing and congested airport with twists and turns you never believe. The traffic is always out of this world and you develop road rage at the mere idea of it. Times like now you forget you’re in a place of privilege where you could have utilized a driver to fetch Natasha. It sounds fancy but it’s useful. Though it’s too late now. You park the car in one of the visiting parking garages. You’re sure the paparazzi are somewhere inside waiting for Natasha or some other celebrity to make an appearance as they’re always conveniently waiting for you there. Despite the various rumors from many different sources, you don’t call the paparazzi on yourself. You think it’s inauthentic and a bit dumb. It’s a complete lack of privacy that you’re not willing to participate in. Especially when the kids are involved. Grace has been left at home with Carla while you’ve made an event of your time with Rose. She enjoys being the star of the show anyway.

You help Rose out of the car, holding onto her hand tightly as you grab the bouquet of rainbow roses in the other hand. The walk to the baggage claim isn’t too far. Rose’s little legs struggle to keep up but she doesn’t complain one bit. You receive a text from Natasha letting you know she landed. You send her your love and a reply that you’re here waiting for her. You wait in a corner together where no one will bother you. You push the sunglasses you’re sporting further up your nose as you watch Rose play a game of pretend hopscotch in front of you. She’s wearing matching sunglasses that you think are utterly adorable on her. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see someone trying to sneakily record. When you look in their direction their device is put away. You offer them a small smile though you would like to do anything but. Perks of the job you guess.

“Rosie, look,” You instruct the four-year-old when you catch a glimpse of Natasha further down. Rose’s head shoots up, unable to see from her vantage point, and so she comes to stand next to you again. You point, handing her the roses to take Natasha. Rose’s entire face lights up when she catches sight of her. Natasha waves and smiles widely when she spots you. She opens her arms wide and kneels to catch Rose when she runs to her. They’re wrapped together in a tight embrace for a few more seconds. Natasha takes Rose in her arms, transferring her to her hip so that she can come over and hug you. It feels good to have her in your embrace. She looks good and smells expensive. It’s a funny thought but everything about her makes you happy.

“Hi,” Natasha greets you with a peck to your lips. “How are you?”

“Good. Everything’s fine,” You smile.

“Mama, we got you flowers see,” Rose holds up the bouquet so that it’s directly in Natasha’s view.

“I see,” Natasha takes the flowers. “I love them so much. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“You’re welcome,” Rose looks around. “Can we go get food now? My tummy is rumbling a lot.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Natasha reaches behind her for her bags. It’s only a few suitcases so you help with the other ones. You walk side by side towards the parking garage. “Hey, Rosie, put your sunglasses down,” Natasha instructs and she does as told. Upon exiting the airport, you’re met with the flashing lights of the paparazzi cameras. Leave it to you to forget to ask for your bodyguard to tag along. Sometimes you conveniently forget that you’re a well-known person and that privacy is a luxury. Natasha holds Rose closer to her as she follows you to the car. Rose goes in first, Natasha helping her with her seat buckles, while you toss the bags into the truck. Overall you’re able to ignore the badgering and borderline inappropriate questions. You climb into the driver’s seat and take extra care to pull out of the parking spot.

“I don’t like those men,” Rose says from the backseat. “They’re always yelling and they are not nice people at all. Right Mama?” She looks for Natasha’s approval.

“That’s right they’re not nice people,” Natasha agrees. “Now do you want to eat at home and get delivery or do you want to go to our favorite restaurant? It’s up to you.”

“IHOP!” Rose cheers. It won’t take you long to get to your destination. If you didn’t count an hour as long. For LA traffic it truly isn’t a long time. You and Natasha have considered moving back to her hometown of Cincinnati. It would be much quieter and way easier to live in. It’s something you’ve thought more about in recent months. No, you’re not ready to give up your career and the perks that come with it. Though you’re always thinking of the girls' safety and happiness too. Rose’s school is here. Her friends, your friends, and your community is here. It would be a big change. A change you’re simply not ready for yet. As much as Natasha wants to leave, you don’t think she’s ready for it yet either.

IHOP is pretty deserted at this time of day. It’s a weekday and everyone would either be working or had something better to do. This was a great opportunity for you to have a family day out. Rose couldn’t contain her excitement as she hops out of the car to hold Natasha’s hand. She practically drags the redhead into the building of the place you frequent. Though there are places with finer dining that is maybe more expensive that you can’t deny her the simplicity that is IHOP.

When you reach the entrance you’re met with a semi-familiar face. You can’t pinpoint it right away but when she introduces herself you understand now.

“Hi, for three,” Natasha requests and she nods. You follow the young girl to a corner of the restaurant where an open booth is. Rose takes the inner area and Natasha slides in after her. You take the other side, crossing your legs, before narrowing your eyes.

“Have we met somewhere before?” You ask and the girl grins from ear to ear.

“We have,” her ponytail bounces whenever she speaks and now you can see that she can barely contain her excitement. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you. “I’m Carissa. WildeLover04 on twitter. We’ve met a couple of times now.”

“Oh, wow,” You remember now. Her face has now been engrained in your mind. “You work here?”

“It’s my first week,” She confirms. “I heard the tips over here on this side of town were good. So I applied and got the job on the spot.”

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Rose reminds you. She taps a picture on the menu to signal she wants pancakes and she’s not willing to wait for a second longer.

“Well, Carissa, congratulations and it’s very nice to meet you,” Natasha adds to the conversation.

“Thank you,” Carissa takes out her pen and pad. She must have forgotten her script because a few seconds later she’s scolding herself. “Right, sorry, silly me. Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”

“I’ll have a coffee, black,” Natasha requests and she looks to Rose for her request.

“Orange juice, please,” Rose chimes in.

“She’s so well-mannered,” Carissa comments as she scribbles down the order. She waits for you to say yours.

“I’ll take a water, thank you,”

“Okay, great, take some time to look over the menu and I’ll make sure to bring those drinks right out to you,” She promises and walks off with a beam.

You wait until she’s out of earshot before turning back to Natasha.

“That girl is like a super fan of mine,” You inform her. Natasha seems interested enough. You give her the entire rundown of everything with Carissa and how big of a following she has.

“Do you find it weird that she works here?” Natasha tilts her head.

“Hmm, no, maybe a little,” You’re not too sure. “It’s not like she would have tried to work here to only see me. I’m sure other public figures come and eat here all the time.”

“She’s a bit awkward but seems harmless,” Natasha shrugs. As long as she remained respectful there should be no problem.

Things are smooth sailing for the rest of breakfast. Rose gets the jr pancake combo that comes with confetti sprinkle-covered pancakes. You get french toast and Natasha gets chicken and waffles. You eat from her plate and she’s all too willing to share. Carissa hovers a little but you just write it off as her being a good waitress. You leave her with a hefty tip and give your goodbyes to the rest of the staff that you’ve come to know. You stop for the bathroom first when you bump into her again. Natasha and Rose head to the car to wait for you. It’s a quick trip and you’re about to wash your hands when she comes in. You give her a polite smile and proceed with your hand washing. She’s on her phone and she’s texting a mile a minute. Suddenly, she looks up at you.

“Hey, um, this may seem weird,” She comes across as shy though you’re beginning to think she’s anything but. “I sent you a bear. I have a friend that works at CAA and I was wondering if you received it. I know you sent a tweet for thanks but I just wanted to make sure Rose liked it.”

“Oh, yeah, I have it. I usually try to keep everything that’s sent to me,” You look at her through the mirror.

“Great, I’m glad,” She looks at her watch. “Thank you for being so nice about everything. I know I’m coming across as creepy. I’m just really happy I got to meet you and everything.”

“No problem,” You say. You think it’s a bit of an awkward conversation to be having in the bathroom. “It’s so nice that you’re so normal. I’ve met a lot of people that don’t keep their cool when meeting me.”

“No, I’m totally chill,” Carissa promises. “I’ve met a lot of celebrities before but you’re my favorite.”

“Thank you,” You take the compliment. “I have to go now but thank you for the kind words.” You slip past her and take the exit. You meet Natasha and Rose in the car. You slide into the driver’s seat again and it’s time to head home.

***********************************

When you arrive home, Natasha keeps the girls occupied while you go for a quick nap. You’re still thinking about Carissa and the conversation you had with her when you get to your bedroom. You reach for the bear that’s been tucked in a corner of your bedroom until now. You checked it for cameras or a mic upon receiving it but now you’re a little paranoid. You don’t want to assume that Carissa has ill intentions but you can never be too sure.

“Everything okay?” Natasha asks as she steps into the bedroom. She eyes the bear and you.

“Peachy,” You take the bear, inspecting it for any unusual stitchings or holes, only to find none. Maybe you’re overreacting. This time you stuff it in the back of your closet where it will stay for the near future.

“What’s that about?” Natasha leans against the dresser with her arms folded. She watches as you stuff the bear into the back of the closet where neither of you can see it.

“It’s nothing,” You shake your head. She probably wouldn’t believe you if you said it.

“Okay,” Natasha takes your word for it. On your way out of the bedroom, she reaches a hand out to catch your arm. She tugs you into her, wrapping her arms around your waist, to keep you there. “I haven’t kissed you today.”

“We kissed at the airport?” You remind her and Natasha plays coy. “I’m sure there are dozens of paparazzi pictures and fan edits to show you.”

“I don't know it’s been so long I’m forgetting what it's like,” She shakes her head and you chuckle. You decide to refresh her memory in another way. This time by leading her to the bed where you gently push her down. She sits with a happy expression on her face. She gives your body a once-over, and the wanton look sends chills down your spine. As you lean into her, you move to straddle her lap, directing one of her hands to your bottom. The first kiss is innocent enough. Short and sweet. A reacquaintance if you will. The next kiss is a little more passionate. A little more heated and definitely a lot more tongue. You breathe through your nose as best you can, letting out a little moan when Natasha bites your bottom lip, and you get lost in the kiss.

“My eyes, they’re burning,” Rose interrupts your makeout session. She covers her eyes with both hands and walks blindly over to the both of you. “No hands in naughty places.” She warns the both of you and you laugh at her words.

“That’s right, Rosie,” Natasha agrees. She moves her hand to a more respectable place. Before either of you realize what’s happening, Rose is pushing you from Natasha's lap to sit.

“I forgot I’m not the only woman in your life anymore,” You roll your eyes in fake annoyance.

“Mama, guess what?” Rose says.

“What?” Natasha plays along. “You got a new doll?”

“Nope,” Rose shakes her head.

“You grew another arm?” Natasha uses her strength to flip Rosie around to search for a new arm.

“No, Mama,” Rose giggles. “I got a hideaway in my room. Want to see?”

“I’d love to,” Natasha allows her to slip from her lap before following her.

“C’mon, Mommy, you too,” Rose toddles back to you to pull you to a standing position. You both walk with her down the hall to her bedroom. Rose’s bedroom is every little girl's dream. At least it was the dream bedroom you wanted when you were younger. It’s a soft pink whimsical-themed bedroom with a twin-sized sleigh bed. Her toys are lined up along her window seat rather than in her toy box. Rose’s bed is made up courtesy of Carla and it’s pretty neat. On one side of the bedroom, she has a tent that she plays in more often than not. There’s her dresser, her closet filled with many dresses and tutus, and her new hiding spot.

It’s a crawlspace. Nothing too huge. Not big enough to be considered an extra room. The walls are the same color as the bedroom. You had a contractor and electrician come to install lights and ensure the room was safe for her to be inside. There’s a mini chandelier-type light that Rose picked out herself. A sleeping bag, some of her toys, and a blanket inside. Natasha crawls in first and then you. You both fit comfortably along with Rose.

“This is really nice,” Natasha looks around. There’s a chalkboard wall behind her and it’s already filled with plenty of drawings from Rose. “I think your new space is fit for a princess.”

“Thank you,” Rose shuffles around her toys to sit. “You’re not too big either, Mommy.” Rose gestures to both of you.

“Nope,” You nod.

“I don’t know Rose this is a whole house,” Natasha pokes her. “Can I move in? Are you going to charge me rent?”

“No,” Rose laughs again. “No grown-ups allowed or even boys.”

“No grownups? Mommy and I are grownups? Can we come in,” Natasha tilts her head?

“Y-yeah but not when the door is closed. That means privacy,” Rose sets the record straight. “And no boys because I don’t have a brother. I want one though.”

“You want a brother?” You raise a brow. This is the first you’ve heard of this.

“Yes, I need a brother so he can teach me how to skateboard,” Rose reasons. She crosses her feet at the ankle and tells you all about why brothers would be nice. “But he can’t live here with us. He can live somewhere else and just visit. Like Peter.”

“There it is,” Natasha nudges you. “She only wants a brother to bend to her every will.”

“At least she knows,” You comment.

“Can we have a tea party now?” Rose suggests. She sits up and begins to rearrange her toys again to make room. There was never a dull moment with her.

*******************************************************

The next morning is even more hectic than before. You woke up late, completely Natasha’s fault and if she denied it you’d remind her of her insatiable habits. Next, you forgot to pump so you do it in the car on the way to the photoshoot. Roxy talks to you about a campaign she has coming up where she thinks the entire family could join in. You’re about to decline but it doesn't sound like a bad idea.

“It’s for The Children’s Place,” Roxy gives the details. “It won’t be a huge campaign. They have a family collection coming out. The girls would be featured but it wouldn’t be a huge thing.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to run it by Tasha,” You shift uncomfortably. Though pumping wasn’t painful it wasn’t a walk in the park either. You preferred to breastfeed Grace. “You know Rose will let the fame get to her head the first chance she gets.”

“I love that girl,” Roxy laughs. “Did you do anything fun yesterday?”

“Other than have mindblowing sex with my insanely hot wife?” You offer just to gross her out and her reaction doesn’t disappoint.

“I can’t blame you because I did the same,” Roxy shrugs. "Not with your wife. My wife." Roxy laughs and you join in.

“We went to IHOP for breakfast with Rose. There was an interesting interaction with a fan who works there. Carissa.”

“The one that sent you the bear?” Roxy recalls her name.

“That’s the one,” You nod.

“I’ve been keeping track of her account,” Roxy says. “She’s a total fangirl. It’s disgusting.”

“She didn’t seem like the crazed type the few times I’ve talked with her,” You think it over. “Well, not more than usual. She does seem a tad bit obsessed but…”

“As I said I’ve got my eye on her,” Roxy shakes the phone in her hand. “Isn’t that right, Sonny?” Roxy looks to the front seat where your bodyguard, Sonny, is looking out of the window.

“Absolutely,” He replies stoically. He’s always so serious.

“Anyway, are you coming to the party?” You ask Roxy.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss a Romanoff-Y/Ll/N party for the world,” She locks her phone.

“It’s a date,” You release yourself from the shackles of the breast pump while managing to keep your modesty. You ensure the containers are closed before stuffing them into the cooler you’re keeping inside the car. Now you’re ready for the photoshoot.

The photoshoot lasts for about five hours. Your schedule is jam-packed for the day with costume fittings, hair and makeup, and the actual shoot itself. You’re beginning to feel fatigued with the entire process but you know you have to push forward. Anything to make the time go by faster. You’re also scheduled for an interview with USWeekly which is the point of this entire thing. You’re seated in a chair, dressed in an extravagant nightgown, with fuzzy pink slippers on your feet, and Darcy by your side to fix your makeup. You pay as much attention as you can to the interviewer Samantha Daily as she shoots off questions.

“Do you ever get used to being a celebrity?” She asks and you pause.

“No, I don’t think you do,” You answer honestly. “At least for me. There are people that exist that live for the fame and lifestyle and I think Natasha handles it all quite well. As for me, while I enjoy it, fame was never something I was chasing. It’s always been about the craft and the entertainment industry as an art. So, no, I’m always kind of surprised when people know me. It makes it harder but having discernment and understanding what celebrity means also helps a lot.”

“I know as a celebrity there are a lot of crazy rumors,” Samantha inquires and you bob your head. “What’s the craziest rumor you’ve heard about yourself?”

“Hmm, I think each decade there’s a new one,” You genuinely try to think which one is the craziest. “When I was a young teen, you know I had a lot of trouble finding myself and navigating the fame, I was never, you know, wild or disrespectful, but I had my moments. Back then there was one rumor that I lost my virginity on a casting couch. Which implies a lot of things that don’t even describe my character or my personality. It just was not factual and also not something I would have ever thought about doing back then or even now as an adult woman. It was a rumor put out by an actress that lost out on the role we both auditioned for. I mean, she’s apologized since then, but it followed me around for a while. Um, when Natasha and I first began dating people would make up different places where they saw us having sex. Which is inappropriate as rumors tend to be. I’ve heard a lot of ridiculous things. A lot of them involve sex. In our early twenties, we were seen as wild sex symbols that everyone wanted to get a taste of. So I could see where it would come from but a lot of it was just hearsay and it’s very hard to steer away from those types of things when it's out there.”

“That is very unfortunate that young women in the industry have to go through that,” Samantha sympathizes.

“It is and I’m glad now we’re having conversations and you know bringing these things to light,” You agree. “You know being in some of these rooms and knowing that that’s what people think of you is disheartening. They’re not paying attention to the work and they only consider you a body to lust after. It’s dehumanizing.”

You and Samantha discuss a little more off the record before you have more questions.

“Now, I want to pivot over to success,” Samantha begins. “What would you say is your biggest accomplishment?”

“Hmm, I figure I can say something cliche like motherhood,” You toy with the idea. You stop speaking when Darcy needs to give you touch-ups. “I think it’s a different kind of success that is only considered great if you see it that way. I love my children. I love being a mom. They’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was intentional with motherhood, how I wanted to raise my girls, and how I wanted to be. So the accomplishment for me lies in raising well-rounded and emotionally intelligent humans who have compassion for others and their surroundings. I think that right now they’re so young, I can say that Rose is so polite and so sweet. She’s a joy to have around and she’s helpful. Career-wise, my recent Emmy win was amazing, I got to record an album as a teen. I think every single thing I’ve done has been fulfilling and I wouldn’t say one thing is bigger than the other.”

“That’s a great answer. I love that answer,” Samantha writes your words down in her notebook. The rest of the interview pretty much goes like that. She’s a great interviewer and knows how to get the correct information from you. She isn’t pushy or invasive, and you love her for that. Before you know it your time is up, and the shoot is over. You’ve got some good shots, and you’re sure you’ll be seeing the results in a few months.

For now you could go home and cuddle iwht your babies.

******************************

A brunch is always an event with you’re with your friends. You’re in a fancy restaurant and having adult conversations with the people you love. It’s been months and maybe even a year since you’ve seen some of the beautiful faces. All of you are at different points in your careers and life and it’s exciting being able to catch up. Wanda Maximoff, a punk rock star, and actress has just ordered her first drink of the morning. You’ve been friends with her since childhood when she played your best friend on your breakout tv show Better Days. Monica Rambeau is a college friend and celebrity hairstylist so you see her quite often. Carol Danvers is a celebrity fitness instructor. Maria Hill is currently a top exec at Netflix. Your lives all surround the entertainment industry though it’s often the last thing on your minds when you meet.

Today the topic is sleazy men and dating. Something you can’t quite add to as you’ve been out of the dating game for six years now. You listen and add input whenever someone questions you but overall you’re happy to be there.

“I think Vis is going to pop the question,” Wanda confesses and you all look at her. She traces a ring around the rim of her cup.

“Why don’t you sound happy about that?” You ask. You know Wanda’s moods and you know her like the back of your hand. You thought she would be more enthusiastic about it. All eyes are on her now as you wait for her to answer.

“I don’t know,” Wanda frowns. “I just don’t think we’re at that point yet. I thought dating older men things would be different. We’ve been together for two years now. I haven’t really thought about marriage to him. Which says something right?” She looks to you for answers and you weigh the options. “I have been struggling with it for a while. He has been hinting at it and I just…I can’t for the life of me understand why it doesn’t make me happy. I want a married life. Kids, a family, nice house. I do love him. I do.”

“I think your feelings are valid,” Carol nods. “Have you ever sat down with him and talked through how you’re feeling?” She steals a fry from Monica’s plate.

They all go over various reasons for Wanda’s hesitance. You on the other hand don’t say anything. That is until she asks.

“Y/n, what do you think?” She waits patiently for you to speak. You would rather not in case she’s not ready for your analysis.

“Wanda,” You start off slowly. “I have watched you with Vision for a while. He’s a great man. Lovely producer. I’ve also watched you with several other men in the past.”

“You’re calling me a whore?” Wanda raises a brow.

“In so many words she kind of did,” Maria sips from her cup. The rest of the group laughs.

“No, no, I’m not calling you anything,” You point the finger at Maria. “I am saying I’ve seen you with men and you never seem as happy with them as you could be. There’s always something holding you back. Which could be a fear of commitment on your end or I know you dabbled a bit in college but have you ever considered that you may actually be attracted to women.”

There’s a moment of silence as everyone takes your words into consideration. That is possible.

“I don’t know if it’s a fear of commitment,” Wanda shrugs. “Maybe we can talk a bit more about the second thing at a later date? I don’t think that’s something I can explore like now.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” You promise. “For now think about whether or not you want a life with Vision and how you want that life to go. We’ll be here either way.”

“Amen,” Monica raised her glass. “Now, about this party. Y/n what should I wear?”

“The party is in two days and you don’t have an outfit?” Your mouth drops open. “Monica what are we going to do with you.”

“Buy me an outfit,” Monica quips.

Brunch with friends turned into shopping with friends and you found yourself an outfit that might be better than the one you chose. You spend time with Natasha and the girls and everything is alright at home. Life is good for you.

On the other side of town, a series of tweets by Carissa is put out into the world.

@Wildelover04: Y/n and Natasha are hosting their annual summer party in a few days. I can’t wait to see everything.

@Wildelover04: Just got a new gig for this week. Can you guess what it is?

@Wildlover04: I’ve met y/n again and she was so lovely. Rose and Natasha are adorable too.

*** added is a picture of Natasha and Rose with their backs turned at IHOP.*****

----> next part

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s6 episode 1 thoughts

season 6!!!! my goodness, how the time sure has flown!! i started this whole project in may of last year, and now we are in january! so much has changed! but other things have stayed the same. 

i have heard mixed things on s6, so i am a bit nervous. but i am excited to be reunited. 

i am also curious to see where exactly the movie was set after the finale of s5. has it been a while, or only a few days? has our little friend gibson been missing this whole time? what about diana- did she pull through? will we get to know more about her?

we need to microchip gibson so we never lose him again. 

(i felt vindicated when people told me diana isn’t a fandom favorite, LMAO. i’m usually the girl that goes to BAT for overhated female characters, but she just seemed too intentionally antagonistic towards scully)

so… this episode shall deal with our agents going on a hunt. well, they had best be careful! there are a bunch of different aliens and beasts on the loose!

(post-episode thoughts: my fury at mulder is 75% normal juni rage and 25% enhanced by me being sick and emotional, a fact i only put together the morning AFTER i took all of these notes. you have been warned....)

anyway. let us begin!

(previously, on the x files)

(and i STAND by my opinion that CSM has a very soothing voice, okay?!? googling this man so i can see if he narrates any audiobooks)

man, i forgot about mulder pushing spender up against the wall and their feud. ah, spender. i feel bad for him, but that doesn’t mean i LIKE him. 

OH, WE GET TO SEE CLIPS FROM THE MOVIE IN THIS RECAP!! and they are in such high quality in comparison to the DVD i borrowed!! wow. when i watch it again sometime in the future- hopefully not on a DVD from 1998- i cannot wait to see everything so CRISP.

NOT THE KISS BAIT BEING INCLUDED IN THE RECAP LMAOOO

but now let us begin the adventures of s6!

NOOOOO! roush!!! the evil biological company! their truck is out in the desert. and their guys are pissing. 

well. this happens.

sandy is sweating. bro does NOT look good. i know his ass is not making it through the night.

when sandy gets home, he cranks the heat up to 80 in arizona, which is WILD. then he goes to lay on the couch and shiver. 

AUGH!!! his hand is JELLY???? it’s see-through!!! i did not want to look at all of sandy’s veins!!!

is he having an alien baby, too?!?!

his work buddies come to fetch him later. we see a bunch of photos of him in his house wearing a lab coat and doing doctor-y things.

AWW, his coworker called him sandman. don’t make me feel bad for the dude who works at the evil alien biotech company…

BLEURGH. he DID have an alien chest baby virus infection thing. OH, this other guy is SHOCKED!! AND HE HEARS THE ALIEN HISSING AT HIM!!!!!

HE’S GETTING EATEN!!!!! NOOOO!!!! 

RIP this guy :(

YAAAY, the intro!!! felt weird not having it with the movie!!!

and it was shortened, but okay. i’m getting used to that.

ahhh, look at this computer on which mulder is examining something. is he looking at micro film?

OH, the sweet boy, he’s restoring the fragments from the x files!! this makes me sad!! does that mean there isn’t a huge box of floppy disks somewhere containing all of them? because it is the responsible thing to do, making sure you have all your files saved in multiple sources! well, we’re only a few minutes into the episode. there’s still time for one of those to be found

and now he is presenting before a panel. he says the x files were destroyed “several months ago”, which places us on a vague timeline. scully is here!!!!

“i see your renowned arrogance has been left quite intact”, says this dude on the panel, and HEY! mulder literally isn’t even being arrogant at THIS MOMENT, OKAY? plenty of other times he is. but not now, as he is submitting his report on this alien spaceship!!

“i didn’t see men in black” “well it’s a damn good movie” <- LMAO they are BULLYING HIM!!!

scully looks pained. 

NOT THEM GETTING ON HIS ASS FOR THE TRAVEL EXPENSES STOOOOOP BEING MEAN!!!

OHHH NOOOOO!!! he says that scully can prove the whole thing, but she can’t. cut to them fighting in the hallway.

mulder… you’re pissing me off. SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE VIRUS IS OR HOW IT WOULD MAKE ALIENS!!!!!! maybe you should have brought a camera to the arctic. don’t you BRUSH INTO HER SHOULDER AS YOU WALK AWAY!!! you were going to KISS HER like a few weeks ago!!! i won’t tolerate this disrespect. 

CSM is debriefing the syndicate on the arizona alien deaths, saying he made up a cover story and it’s called “blaming it on Native Americans”. classic CSM, world-renowned great guy /s

so, he thinks the arizona guy who gave birth to an alien chest baby accidentally injected himself with the virus, and now the alien is on the loose!!! 

man, the presence of well-groomed man is missed. RIP. this other guy is here, though. so that’s good. i guess.

CSM says he is managing the situation. will he be sent out to test his sniping skills?? can you snipe an alien?

skinner is coming down to see mulder on the computer… NOOO, he breaks the news that his reassignment on the x files has been denied!!!!! 

mulder's all angry, and skinner tries to clarify he’s not arguing with him, but raises the question: “when will you accept that no amount of pressure or reason will bring to heel a conspiracy whose members walk these halls with absolute impunity?” <- ohhh, a very good point…

so they reopened the x files, then denied his reassignment? are they going to assign them to someone else? or just close them again?? will they keep scully on them?

skinner said that the vote was unanimous… he must have been trying not to blow his cover as mulder’s biggest supporter… but i'm sure this still made mulder very sad

so he gets all his stuff up and starts to leave. BUT SKINNER WANTS TO HELP HIM FIND PROOF??? SO HE CAN PROVE THE OTHERS WRONG??

i told you!!!! that man is my uncle.

he says there’s a file on his desk in the old office……. and sure enough, there is.

is this season much darker in terms of screen brightness?

OH SHIT…. why is spender down here in mulder's old office? WITH DIANA??? “diana, back on your feet. i guess that’s the only way you can stab me in the back” <- damn. he's pissed.

woah, what? okay, i was imagining scully staying on the project and spender taking his place, which would obviously be awful, but diana taking his place is like, worse. so now is it going to be spender and diana? instead of mulder and scully? ew.

jump to CSM lighting up in front of a no smoking sign… he’s just fundamentally a bad boy. he’s walking in where some sort of surgery is taking place!!!

he says he needs the patient bandaged and dressed, even though this might kill them. OH SHIT! IT’S GIBSON!!! and he must be in the middle of surgery!!!!!

EAIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THEY HAVE HIS BRAIN OPEN………….

good lord, i nearly passed out. again, i repeat my grounding mantra: shoutout to the props team.

and he was awake, too………..

poor baby. 

AWWWW, THE AGENTS ARE DOWN IN PHOENIX to investigate the case that skinner left them the files on, and scully WILL remind him that they are violating state laws regarding contamination of a crime scene (she lets out a deep scully sigh, asking “why do i bother?”) yeah. idk either queen.

he sees claw marks on the walls!!! that does not look like it came from some bare hands. scully is not fooled by this claim in the evidence report. 

ooooooo, he finds a claw!!!!!!!!

“is that an animal?” “ain’t rupaul” <- LMAO I’M CRYING????????? 

mulder, i knew you were an ally ✊

(listen, both of those agents are bisexual to me. and maybe ace, too. depends on the day. THAT'S MY OPINION!)

(he hands the claw to scully very carefully <3)

feels wrong to see him in what i think is a polo, but it is hard to tell because the screen is so DARK.

oh yeah, let scully calculate the gestation rate of this hypothetical alien baby. under 12 hours!!! damn!! that is… quick. and also? how could a baby do all this, she wants to know? well. some babies are more equipped for violence than others. i guess. 

oh no! CSM IS HERE!! AND POOR BABY GIBSON, BLEEDING THROUGH HIS BANDAGES!!

please someone lay him down and let him watch spongebob. NOW.

gibson announces that "it" (alien baby) isn’t here. and that he knows CSM wants to kill him if he can’t find the creature. poor sweet little dude. they drive off.

mulder emerges into the daylight, and he does, in fact, have a polo on. but he is asking scully why she won’t believe him. MAYBE IT *WILL* TAKE AN ALIEN BITING HER FOR HER TO BELIEVE, BUDDY!!! DON'T RAISE YOUR GODDAMN VOICE AT HER!!

OHHH, SHE GRABS HIS HAND?? “listen, mulder, you told me that my science kept you honest. that it made you question your assumptions; that by it, i’d made you a whole person”

(okay girl, stay with me here now, but i think he meant YOU made him a whole person, not your science…….. but maybe she had to compartmentalize after nearly kissing him)

“if i change now… it wouldn’t be right, or honest” oh, scully <3 he has never deserved you or your kindness...

he’s being a whiny baby. like, i get it, and i understand. they're taking the x files away! and he needs to prove they are correct about aliens! but “i’m sorry scully, but this time your science is wrong” and walking away… 😒 which problem did that solve?

idk!! i see both of their points!!! this fundamental and ancient conflict is once again playing out, but can we focus less on the hows and whys of the situation and more on the “we need to get our jobs back and be bestest friends forever and ever, and also save that missing little boy and find some answers along the way”? please. consider this viewpoint. for me!

oh, let's go off to a nuclear power plant. again, very dark. noticing a theme here. it’s outside arizona. is that where the alien wants to go?

did they call the guy homer as a simpsons reference…? i see what was done here. well, something in the power plant is off. 

don’t send homer loose into the dark!!! the alien will eat him!!! especially while vague splattering noises are heard!!

CREATURE EATS HOMER……….

agents mulder and scully are on the scene. but so is spender!!!

UGH, he’s so ANNOYING: he basically says “i’m gonna get skinner censured for telling you some guy was murdered, now LEAVE” SPENDER!!! you are PISSING ME OFF!! 

(it made me think of that line from sharkboy and lavagirl: "mr. electric, send him to the principal's office and HAVE HIM EXPELLED!" <- that's what your whiny ass sounds like, spender)

and diana won’t let them in either, saying that it was "just a work accident". oh, so much for caring about the x files, huh? like you claimed in the last episode. you sound REAL invested now /s

scully gets him to come back to the car after he spits some venom at diana (“i hope you know whose errands you’re running”).

however, he says to give him the keys and tells scully to get in the car, and she gives him the most DIABOLICAL side eye LMAO. she is so suspicious of his shenanigans!!!

OH MY GOD, THERE WAS A REASON FOR THAT: SHE FINDS GIBSON IN THE CAR????? he’s out cold and she’s holding his head, calling him “sweetheart” oh my GOD????? 

wait. hold on. i’m emotional. hold on.

they take him to their motel, and she’s trying to smile at him while she trims off his bandages. he IMMEDIATELY READS HER THOUGHTS AND SAYS “frankenstein? really?” and DESPITE KNOWING HE CAN READ HER THOUGHTS, SHE TRIES TO LIE AND MAKE HIM FEEL BETTER.... OHHH, SCULLY

(this is still making me emotional. lying to the kid that can read minds because she doesn't want to hurt his feelings or scare him... knowing that she is the doctor that has to try and make him better, so he cannot know she thinks he looks to be in serious danger...)

he has some infection because they didn’t change his bandages and a fever, ohhhh this poor CHILD

so he ran away when they weren’t thinking about him!!!

scully, do you have antibiotics on you? is that a doctor-ly thing to have in your purse? please fix him. 

OHHH SNAP, HE CALLED HER OUT: “they were using me. because i can communicate with it” “communicate with what?” “you already know. you just don’t want to believe it”

actually such a fascinating narrative choice to have a child psychic call out her own internal lies… he’s too young to blunt his words, so we know they are the truth… getting to see inside what scully truly believes, even if she cannot admit it to herself, through the lens of this sweet angel with his poor infected skull...

(mulder nods his head to the side, indicating to her they must go talk privately)

he wants to take gibson out to find the Creature, but scully says he needs to be in bed under constant medical supervision; he is the evidence for the x files that can prove to the panel that everything they research is real!!

lowkey pissed me off that this boy is suffering in front of them so horribly and mulder wanted to go on an alien hunt.

so, they’re going to sneak him off somewhere. maybe to an alien hunt and then the hospital. but alas, who approaches them in the parking lot?

IT’S DIANA???? she claims to be alone. CAN WE HAVE A BREAKUP LATER???

she tells mulder that she took the assignment to represent his interests, reminds him that THEY found the x files together, and says that they should go find the beast right now. sure. whatever. you go find the beast, let scully doctor the poor boy. whatever. like i care.

he agrees to do just that, which i actually do think is morally wrong, because now scully has to play single mother to this sick boy. what if she gets sleepy and he is stolen from under her, like what happened with diana?

but diana and mulder are off to the nuclear reactor. mulder thinks that maybe the alien baby needs to be warm… maybe to grow?

so scully is with gibson, and he accuses her of only thinking about herself and what she can learn from him. “i’m a very special lab rat”, he says (deep and sad scully sigh)

OHHHH… these two are giving me feelings……….

gibson just wanting to be a normal kid, and scully wanting to take care of this normal kid who is sadly being used for ulterior motives, but also knowing that if she wants to keep her job and prove the x files, that she must test upon him, too... she must have felt so conflicted... and he must have been able to sense that...

meanwhile, mulder and diana are sneaking into a nuclear reactor. i hope they don’t kiss. i don’t wanna see that shit. 

do they have guns? like, good guns? what are they going to hunt the alien with?

he finds a sticky trail… while spooky music plays…. and the wrench from homer (RIP)

bro needs to stop touching mystery fluids.

EUGH he pulls out… guts??? 

but scully calls!!! they found evidence of the virus that she was infected with in gibson’s system!!!

is diana here to just snitch on their progress… with his gut haul…..?

NOOOOO!!! THE DOCTOR APPROACHING GIBSON IS GOING TO HURT HIM??? HE IS KIDNAPPED! AGAIN!!!!!!

SCULLY IS GOING TO YELL AT SOME DOCTORS ABOUT IT!!!!! THREE CHEERS FOR MAMA BEAR SCULLY!!! DON’T TELL HER TO CALM DOWN!!! GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!

the evil guy is taking him away in an ambulance while mulder and diana track the beast. and again, i’d like to know what their game plan is once they find the thing.

gibson is brought to the nuclear power plant as well, being forced around by his kidnapper, who wants to use him to find the alien. and i can barely see what is happening because it is so DARK. 

gibson is being brought into what i think is the nuclear core, where he declares that "it" is here. 

i’m gonna need this gibson fellow to make it through, okay?

mulder is POUNDING ON THE DOOR, telling the evil guy to open it NOW, you SON OF A BITCH!

diana wants to find another way in, maybe, idk, i don’t trust her!!!

AUGH, the alien EATS the evil guy!!! well. deserved, tbh. will the alien please NOT eat gibson, though?

and it seems that diana DID snitch on him??? she pulls her gun on mulder as the cops suddenly arrive??

IT’S TOO DAMN DARK, I CAN’T SEE IF GIBSON WAS EATEN OR NOT!!!

skinner is absent from the hearing in which the agents are being told they must not go near the x files at all, or else they will be immediately dismissed!!! and they are moved to assistant director kersh!!! 

who is this man.....?

i expect mulder to just hand in his resignation papers now.

EW, CSM IS HERE TO SEE SPENDER??? he says he doesn’t want to see him. but CSM congratulates him on handling mulder. and he calls him “son”. 

“simple but extreme solutions” bro is offering to kill him??? no... he says this will not do in such a situation

spender asks if he’s killed men... IJBOL! that is his whole thing, buddy. welcome to this show.

CSM says you cannot kill what a man stands for, unless you kill his spirit. can mulder's spirit be killed?!?!

mulder is back to investigating the scraps of paper from the x files. “it would help if you’d shut the door; it’d make it harder for them to see that i’m totally disregarding everything i was told” <- LMAOOOO

oh scully, always pushed to the side in his mad ahab quest: “everything we were told, mulder” <- YEAH, YOU TELL HIM!!!!!!!!

she thinks that diana is throwing him under the bus (her report makes no mention of gibson!! and lies about the body they found!! also, i think she literally pulled a gun on him when the cops rolled up??), but he INSISTS that she is doing this out of the goodness of her heart 

“and though it may not say it in her report, diana saw it too. and no matter what you think, she’s certainly not going to go around saying that just because science can’t prove it, it isn’t true” 

wait hold on… i’m emotional… that was so mean… why am i genuinely tearing up…?

scully just wants him to trust her…. and he won’t take her files, because he's being stubborn, but they are literally TEST RESULTS that prove his theories to be true……..

the claw matches the DNA from the virus and the DNA from gibson…. 

if it’s true, that means everyone is a little bit of an alien?? oh scully…. look at her…….. sciene geek...

back at the nuclear power plant, it’s GIBSON!!!!! he sees the alien going for a swim in the nuclear water!!!!! yucky. 

it’s hatching………… oh.

the end.

man.

i don’t know if i’m emotional on this fine evening, but i nearly cried at mulder disrespecting scully. how can you say that about someone, that they make you whole, and keep you honest, and then treat them like that? how can you just toss her to the side the minute someone else says what you want to hear?

like. what the fuck! i can’t tell if this is purposeful character development leading up to something or if he is truly being an awful guy. how can he go from trusting her with everything he is- his life and even his death, over and over again- to having a hissy fit because she can't prove the virus was alien? it's not like SHE is the one taking them off of the assignment! she is not the corrupt government! in fact, she knows better than anyone the reality of the corrupt government, considering they 1) KILLED HER SISTER and 2) TRIED TO KILL HER WITH TERMINAL CANCER THAT DAMN NEAR SUCCEEDED?

shakes my fist angrily… i think scully should get to bite him.

she NEVER blows up at him!! even when he deserves it!!! and he has!! a million times over!! but she doesn’t!! it’s his stupid alien nonsense that got her sister killed and nearly killed her!! why does he act like he is the only one who can see some bigger picture?? oh wisest of all men, mulder, enlighten us with your alien theories??? bitch!!! if i was scully, i would have had enough!!! i would need a break from him!!! i would take that reassignment!!!

okay, maybe i’m just really angry tonight. BUT I HAVE A RIGHT TO BE! we were making such good progress in the “telling your best friend you love them” department, that i truly cannot stand this!! you tell him anything he wants to hear and he’ll eat it up!!! sure, sure, this lady that you used to date CONVENIENTLY wants to save the project you just got kicked off of after dedicating your whole life to it. (heavy on the /s) BRO??? LET’S USE A LITTLE BIT OF COMMON SENSE.

grrrr, i’m actually gonna GROWL. i don’t CARE about your inner man angst, you HAVE TO BE NICE TO YOUR FRIENDS!!! she LOVES you and you LOVE HER, so you ought to ACT LIKE IT.

and they took my uncle skinner away from me…

oh, i just know that if i had seen this when it was airing, i would be SPITTING MAD!! i’d be on those discussion forums saying NASTY things!!!

man. i still feel angry.

scully and gibson…. she wants to keep him safe, but also wants to prove her theories, and he suffers because of it… poor baby… how she held his unconscious head, calling him sweetheart; how she screamed at the doctors who ignored her…. god…

see, normally i’d say “give them both a baby”, but right now i’m mad as hell at mulder, and he does not deserve baby privileges.

poor gibson… i hope he makes it out of that nuclear reactor.

also. spender. the most pathetic nepo baby of all time. is he not at all suspicious about why his absent father is suddenly making a reappearance? hello? and the way he just pushes people around with his newfound power? do you think CSM will just use him and then discard him like he does everyone else????

wow. much to contemplate. for now, i must sleep off my rage. stupid mulder in his stupid polo…

spender and diana are literally scully and mulder from shein.

[malfoyfarms]

She Loved You (extended)

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Word Count: 721

Warnings:none

A/n: part two you’ve all been waiting for; side note @softboystarkey i saw ur user on the list and fangirled, ily

The moment John B had seen the familiar scrawl on the outside of a large manilla envelope, he called everyone over to read it. So here the group sat, sitting on the deck as JB pulled the papers out. 

“JJ this one’s specifically for you.” He started to hand it to the boy, but he was cut off.

“No, read it aloud. I won’t be able to get through it.”

So that’s what John B did. He started to narrate his best friend’s words. 

J, 

I really truly hope this letter gets to you. I didn’t want to put a return address on the envelope because I still can’t come home. I do, though, have something very important to tell you. 

For starters, I am safe. I have a roof over my head, a job, and maybe just one friend. I hope you and our gang of bandits are doing alright. I hope JB has forgiven me, because I fucking miss my older brother. It’s taking me longer to detach from you than I thought it would, mostly because you were my whole world. But also because I couldn’t stay away from the ocean. You and the sea are slowly becoming two separate entities, even if I see your eyes every time I look out my bedroom window. 

I hope you found happiness. I hope you are with Kie, giving her all the smiles, hugs and affection that only you could muster. If not her, I hope someone is receiving all the love you have to give. In our time growing up, the two of us have seen many marriages fail (I mean we were both raised by single fathers), and many survive. Miserably survive. That was also why I left. I didn’t want us to end up like either. 

The day you told me how you felt about Kiara had been one of the worst days of my life, and hearing you tell me you wanted another girl wasn’t even the worst thing. About two hours before I met you at the bluffs I took a test. And it was positive. Your pull out game fucking sucks. But so does my ability to take birth control apparently. 

John B stopped reading, as Sarah uttered a “shut the fuck up,” and JJ was paling by the second.

I was terrified, then over the moon, then shattered. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay with me because I was pregnant, we’ve seen how that plays out time and time again. I thought about getting rid of it completely, then maybe adoption. Once I heard your confession later that day I knew I had to keep it, so I could have a little bit of you no matter what happened. 

What I’m trying to say is you have a daughter. She was born on October 17th, healthy and happy. Her name is Quincie, Quincie Jay. She’s so beautiful, JJ. She has your blonde hair, my dark eyes, and loves to test the limits. Quincie loves the water. And the beach. Especially the sand. 

I’m coming home soon. I never want to keep her from you, I just wanted to let your universe work itself out before she made an entrance (and boy was it grand). She needs her dad, her two uncles, her two aunts and she needs to learn how to be a cockroach like the rest of us. I want you in her life, she needs to experience love from a Maybank boy. I added a picture to the bottom of the envelope so you could see her. 

All my love, 

Y/n (& QJ)

John B shook the package and a 4x6 photo of both Y/n and Quincie fell out. Y/n had eyes so full of love for her daughter, they were shining so bright the group barely noticed her now darker hair, free of charms, thread and braids, or the lack of her freckles. Quincie Jay on the other hand, she was laughing, her mouth was open, and Y/n was right. She looked like JJ with her mother’s eyes. His girls looked so lovely. 

The group was frantic trying to take a peek at the baby girl in the photo. But all JJ could think about was that his girls were coming home. 

@eddiemunsonhero___ @lilacreader7 @gengen64 @123anonymous123456 @solargazes @Taintedxkisses @shamelessatoru @folkorelover888 @taurusvic @nadinenoa02 @softboystarkey @VOIDRANBOO @Tvdnmf @blueray222 @simp4holland @onehellofabisexual @idli-dosa @byycassie @bokutosmeatythigh

[kylieswift31]

A secret love story

"I don't want you like a best friend"

Taylor Swift has been singing about being in love with her best friend over and over again for years. There are many people who might fit this description, but perhaps the person she has been referring to all along is her childhood best friend Abigail Anderson?

This is going to be a gentle exploration of a loving relationship hidden in the shadows. 🐈🐈‍⬛

And just a big disclaimer before we get started: this post is akin to laying all of my cards out on the table at the end of a round of Cluedo as I announce my prediction of who the suspect is after considering the evidence along the way. Please keep in mind that Abigail does not hold the same celebrity status as Taylor does so this is presented as a theory or form of fan fiction until proven otherwise. With the exception of a couple of references to pride day celebrations Abigail has not come out publicly and her romantic involvement with Taylor is based on a variety of subtle comments and references. I've sat with this concept over the last couple of months trying to decide if sharing it was the right thing to do, but ultimately decided to acknowledge the trail of breadcrumbs that keep building up instead of tiptoeing around it. And just to reiterate, this is a strategy based discussion involving a multitude of subtle hints and connections. Generalised statements about performative relationships and behaviours have implied nuance and to avoid repeating myself this disclaimer is implied going forward. Please try to consider the details with an open mind as this is an exploration focused on the pieces of a puzzle that intersect to create a bigger picture. This going to be a really long post but it’s worth sticking around until the end. 🧡

"And so I enter into evidence

My tarnished coat of arms"

After zooming out to consider Taylor’s story through the lens of the Truman show with a completely museless perspective I began to recognise the strategic moves and countermoves that slowly but deliberately contributed to the bigger picture like an ongoing game of chess. In the process I began to see how revealing a long term relationship that began in high school would blow up the narrative of the “boy crazy” version of Taylor™, highlight the struggles that artists face when they're forced to keep their queer relationships hidden from the public to protect their career and how it would be the ideal relationship that could help reunite the majority of her fanbase following the aftermath of coming out publicly.

Unreliable narrator

“What if I told you I’m a mastermind?”

It's becoming apparent that when Taylor refers to herself as a mastermind that what she is alluding to is her role as the unreliable narrator of her own story. This type of narrator intentionally misleads the audience by obscuring the truth along the way to encourage them to engage with the story on a deeper level by forming their own opinions. Many of us have experienced this when we discovered that Taylor's male relationships were a facade to conceal her female relationships, but what if the female relationships were also a facade to conceal a long term relationship with Abigail? Perhaps it’s Abigail that we’ll be meeting at midnight(s)? 🕰

"I'm having his baby... 💙" -Abigail

"When the internet says 'MOTHER' I feel like this pic is actually what they mean" -Taylor

Abigail's pregnancy announcement was the first post I saw after discovering that she could be the red headed muse Taylor has been alluding to within her music videos. My eye was immediately drawn to the colour combination of the green and blue in the background and the red and yellow on the box of crackers. The green and blue is very similar to the canopy of trees seen at the start of the 'all too well' short film and Abigail had previously posted a very similar shot from a trip she took to Big Sur with her husband last year. I was a little confused by the box of crackers in the photo until I saw that there was a picture of Zarah at Questlove's "GMNGHT6" game night holding a family size box of crackers, which just left me feeling even more perplexed. Abigail has since announced that they have named the baby Bennett, a possible nod to Taylor's SNL 'roomies' skit or potentially a reference to the Bennett family in pride and prejudice. The birth announcement also had 'skinny love' by Bon Iver playing in the background. Add in the caption referencing ‘but daddy I love him’ and that’s four references to Taylor in one pregnancy announcement. I understand that this could just be a Taylor themed announcement considering that the majority of her followers are swifties, but there’s something about Taylor’s comment that feels like there’s a deeper message about karma being expressed here considering her latest post ended with “Childless Cat Lady”.

The (wo)man you script

"He said the way my blue eyes shined put those Georgia stars to shame that night. I said, "that's a lie"."

The first line of Taylor's first song on her first album starts with a lie. And Taylor's not the only one with blue eyes. During the 'Me!' music video Taylor adopted a kitten and named him Benjamin Button. This is based on the character from the movie 'the curious case of Benjamin Button' and his love interest also had red hair and blue eyes. “I’ll never forget her blue eyes” was Benjamin's first impression when he saw her for the first time.

"The professor said to write what you know. Lookin' backwards might be the only way to move forward."

What's curious about Benjamin Button's character is that he ages differently to everyone else. He was born as an old man and slowly became younger over time until he eventually died as a baby. Taylor has made a few subtle comments in interviews over the years that suggest that she has been doing more than just going back in time to rerecord her old music, implying that she has also been retelling her story with all of her new music too. Naming her cat after Benjamin Button symbolises the journey of reliving the past over and over and over again. And if Abigail is Taylor's muse then it's not just Taylor's story that she's been retelling. It’s “ours”. Or perhaps the time reference is more of a metaphor for predictability and repetition because it's 12 o'clock two times a day? ✌🏼

Best friends

“Tell me ‘bout the first time you saw me”

Taylor first met Abigail when they sat next to each other at her new high school. She was Taylor's partner in crime for the 'picture to burn' music video and then featured on both the song and music video for 'fifteen'. "You sit in class next to a redhead named Abigail" made her role as Taylor's best friend famous, and then tying their friendship together with "Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind" cemented their connection in the public eye as a purely platonic friendship.

"And the school that used to be ours"

So many of the high school references make a lot more sense if Taylor is singing about someone she knew while they were both in high school. Taylor has mentioned a few times that they were often dressing up together and doing their own thing in high school because they didn't fit in with the majority of their peers. And then in a Jimmy Fallon interview Taylor alluded to wanting to throw a party for all of the cowriters from the lover album, implying that it was a bit because everyone knows that she wrote the album alone. But it’s the way she followed it up with a comment about how she was writing songs alone in high school too that hinted at Abigail’s presence throughout the song writing process.

Love story

"I'm invisible and everyone knows who you are"

In an interview Taylor mentioned how she didn't receive any advice before hosting SNL when she was 19. This implied that she may not have been given advise about that topic specifically, but instead received advice about how to protect her work and queer relationship while still being honest about her story along the way. In the Miss Americana documentary Taylor talks about how she was "falling in love with someone who had a wonderfully normal, balanced life". So much of what was said about Taylor and Joe's relationship in this way was indirectly referencing the beauty and fragility of her private relationship with Abigail. The difference between protecting a relationship with a celebrity and protecting their long term queer relationship is vastly different when you consider that cementing Abigail's role as Taylor's straight best friend gave her time to live her own life out of the public eye.

“Skipping the prom just to piss off your mom”

Taylor and Abigail never had a chance to go to prom together, so when MTV organised for Taylor to be a surprise prom date for the ‘once upon a prom’ show Taylor invited Abigail to tag along with her. They were able to get dressed up together and their mission was to find Abigail a date for the night. The prom photo of the four of them makes it seem like they're on a double date together, and if you're assuming that they're a heteronormative couple then you're not going to question the dynamics between Taylor and Abigail.

A is for Abigail

"Hey kids, spelling is fun!"

“Girl, there ain't no I in "team".

But you know there is a "me".”

The letters M and E are in the word TEAM, which leaves the letters T and A for Taylor and Abigail. Taylor posted a video of her being a copycat with the haim sisters as she put on the same outfit that they were wearing while the song 'copycat' was playing. I can't help but wonder if this was supposed to be an Easter egg for their appearance on Sesame Street. They sang an alphabet song together which started with "A is for Abby!" The pink fairy named Abby Cadabby first appeared on Sesame Street in 2006, adding a more colourful and feminine character to the cast of muppets. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that her name was mentioned in the song when she shares the same name as Abigail.

"We show off our different scarlet letters.

Trust me, mine is better."

The scarlet letter reference in the ‘new romantics’ song was one of the first blatantly queer references in Taylor’s discography. But what if the “trust me, mine is better” line is supposed to be from Abigail’s point of view because her initials contain the symbol for the scarlet letter? Or perhaps it’s a reference to Taylor because it represents both her queerness as well as her lover? To emphasise this connection between the two, Abigail and Taylor can be seen dancing together in the Spotify banner for this song. There’s also a moment during the ‘new romantics’ music video where you can see Abigail waiting backstage for Taylor too.

The Truman show

"People often greatly underestimate me on how much I'll inconvenience myself to prove a point…"

The director of the Truman show was pleading right up until the very end as he tried to convince Truman to stay. "You've never had a camera in my head!" was Truman's only response, pointing out that the director was so focused on the show that he never realised that Truman had been unhappy long before he started trying to escape. It felt like Taylor was referencing this scene in the 'Me!' music video when Brendon Urie opened a heart shaped door that revealed what was inside his heart. In the Miss Americana documentary Taylor described this music video as a compilation of who she is on the inside. "When it's like, "me-ee-ee," it's like dancers, cats, gay pride, people in country western boots. I start riding a unicorn, like just everything that makes me me." This implies that when we see inside Brendon’s heart that he’s also replicating what’s inside Abigail’s heart. When Truman concealed his truth behind a facade he created a play within a play by putting on a show of his own that distracted the director from seeing how he really felt while he was planning his escape. It’s likely that at some point Taylor and Abigail encountered a situation where they realised what they were up against and had taken the reigns by keeping their relationship private. This would have begun with creating their own play within a play with Taylor™ as the star of the show, and they have been leaving a trail of breadcrumbs that explain their side of the story ever since. And just like the couple in Taylor’s eye on the Spotify wrapped video have a birds eye view of the bigger picture, they’ve been playing the long game all along. Taylor’s end game isn’t necessarily to leave or come out formerly, but to prove a point that they can’t sabotage her plans when she has already came out in subtle ways over and over again from the very beginning.

“You never gave a warning sign.

(I gave so many signs)

All the time.”

"And then all I started thinking of was how do I hint at things, like, how far is too far in advance? Can I hint at something three years in advance? Can I even plan things out that far? I think I'm gonna try to do it!"

Sure Taylor could easily hint at something three years in advance when her schedule is already planned that far in advance already, so why not mention something fourteen years in advance instead? 🦄 In the behind the scenes episode for the 'fifteen' music video Taylor started a bit about how you don't want to see inside a woman's head. The director Roman White then repeated this sentiment as he demonstrated how the green screen works, implying that he was demonstrating what's inside both Taylor and Abigail's head. There was a rainbow, a cowboy riding a dolphin, a unicorn, a cat riding a bike and an obscure wrestling mascot. Referencing this scene from the Truman show during the fearless era and again in the lover era is a great example of how referencing the Truman show over and over again leaves a trail of invisible string that exposes the facade of Truman™ regardless of how far back you look.

Hidden in plain sight

“And not caring when people make fun of pumpkin flavoured stuff cause you LOVE IT”

To understand why Taylor keeps referencing the Truman show we need to consider that the performance art is designed to draw our attention to what's occurring beyond the view of the camera. Who was taking the photos when Taylor was with her friends? Who's spending the night backstage while Taylor's performing? Who is Taylor spending time with when she's not photographed? There are so many moments that we're not aware of because we're only seeing what she wants us to see. As Taylor's popularity increased and her friendship group expanded Abigail’s presence became less noticeable. Dressing up as posh spice for Halloween revealed the anonymity she possesses by demonstrating how unrecognisable she can be when you can’t identify her by searching for her iconic red hair. The spice girls are a band made up of posh spice, baby spice, scary spice, ginger spice and sporty spice. And pumpkin spice is known as the unofficial sixth member of the spice girls. 🎃

"When you're young they assume you know nothing"

Many assume that finding out that his father is still alive is what makes Truman aware that his life isn't what it seems, but what they don't take into account is that they're seeing Truman's story for the first time. It takes further exploration to realise that Truman has been living in an endless loop over and over and over again. 🕰 Truman began recreating scenarios of what he had experienced in the past to draw attention to the reality of his daily life and the director's influence that prevented him from leaving. Taylor and her friends have been recreating scenarios like this to demonstrate publicly what has been occurring privately over the years. For example, Abigail’s presence at Taylor’s concerts have oftentimes been overshadowed by other celebrities. Taylor's behaviour at the VMA's replicated this scenario by mimicking her friends having a blast and dancing along, meanwhile Jack and Margaret recreated Abigail and her husband watching quietly alongside the other celebrities. There's also the fire that Taylor and Gracie extinguished while working together which replicated how Abigail's hair caught on fire at her birthday party last year. Examples like this are really difficult to find unless you’re purposely looking for it, but the benefit is that they have plausible deniability because there’s no proof when they're recreating a similar scenario without being seen together. The tablecloth that Taylor’s security guard was seen carrying out of a restaurant was exposing the elaborate scheming that has been going on for years. “It’s all part of the fucking story” was just letting us in on their game plan. 🔥

Colour symbolism

"So scarlet it was maroon”

I recently made a post about the sequel to the original version of the parent trap and how the best friends tried to take a shortcut by sharing their homework. "What if we each read half a book? You can read the first part and I'll read the second. And then we can get together and tell each other what happens!" ❤️💙 This backfired on them because it's only when you view both sides of the story at once that you can see the bigger picture. And just like putting on a set of 3D glasses with one red lens and one blue lens, viewing a blurry image through the correct combination of lenses is like deciphering a puzzle. Perhaps the pairs Taylor has created tell two sides of the same story, with one half revealing the story she's shown to the public and the other to reveal the true story experienced in private. There may be many misconstrued details within Taylor’s music if you’re only viewing one side of the story, but the essence within her music is nothing short of authentic.

“Karma takes all my friends to the summit”

Just like the unreliable narrator, Taylor has been encouraging us to find the truth hidden underneath the facade. The techniques that have been used to conceal Taylor and Abigail's relationship really is a testament to how effective they have been with making Abigail Taylor's 'straight best friend'. And it all started with Karlie Kloss. She acted as a lighthouse drawing attention towards Taylor's queer relationships for those willing to see it, and with Abigail acting as the director Karlie and Taylor recreated moments that reflected experiences Abigail and Taylor had shared in private. This also meant that Karlie became the Trojan horse that concealed the trail of breadcrumbs leading all the way back to Abigail. Fast forward to now and Taylor and Travis are in the midst of retelling the story so that more people can see for themselves how performative relationships work. And it feels like the swifties being invested in their relationship is a necessary step to be able to recognise the pattern for themselves once they’re really to accept that Taylor is in a queer relationship.

The one worth fighting for

“I’ve still got you all over me”

When Truman left Seahaven all he took with him was the scrapbook picture he had created to represent what he was fighting for. As I was searching for Taylor’s version of this picture it took my breath away when I stumbled upon this one with the butterfly wings. 🦋 But it was the leopard print around the perimeter that left me speechless. 🐾 So many of Taylor's music videos have featured leopard print outfits, including 'shake it off', 'blank space' and 'look what you made me do'. In the 'look what you made me do' music video it's only after Taylor had crashed the car that a leopard had appeared in the seat next to her while she was holding a grammys award. Abigail posted a picture of herself at the beach at Martha's Vineyard, she was wearing a leopard print jacket and the caption described the song 'snow on the beach'. Referencing Abigail with the leopard in the passenger seat seems to imply that "look what you made me do" is karma for whoever instigated their decision to change their plans. And the leopard print on the butterfly implies that karma orange isn’t an impending album or a new era aesthetic, it’s the trail of invisible string woven throughout Taylor’s career to symbolise Abigail’s presence in her life. Karma is the fact that nobody is going to understand that connection before they understand that Taylor is queer. 🧡

"You don't know what you don't know"

"You think you could be happy here?"

"Can anybody be happy if they aren't free?"

When you think of redheads that Taylor is close with I assume you're thinking of Ed Sheeran, Diana Agron, Hayley Williams, Natalie Reid, Abigail Anderson, Sadie Sink, Ice Spice or perhaps Tree Paine to name a few. There have been so many red headed people in Taylor’s music videos too. I’d picked up on this pattern long before I first considered that they could be a reference to Abigail and the first occurrence just happens to be in 'picture to burn'. Many songs like this reference a third person that creates a love triangle. But what if Taylor was being honest when she said that she's been writing about a fictional love triangle? And the lie is that James ended up with August and not Betty? The way Taylor mentioned this tidbit is suddenly sounding a lot like the way she said "my boyfriend Travis" during her VMA's speech. Tayliar indeed. What if the story Taylor has been telling us over and over again is actually a fictional love triangle between Taylor, Abigail and Taylor™? Perhaps they've been using the main characters from the remake of the 'beauty and the beast' movie to explain their love story. There's the duplicity of Belle and Belle™ who felt torn between two worlds. 💙💛 The beast lived in exile, frozen in an endless winter as he watched the petals of the rose slowly wilt and die. ❄️ ���� And Gaston who made it his life's mission to convince Belle to be his wife and the mother of his children. 💍🤰🏼 Belle and the Beast reflect the beauty of the hidden love story between Taylor and Abigail. But in public it's a battle of wills between Belle™ and Gaston, who represent the facade of Taylor™ and her muse. When we see Taylor with Travis they're showing us the queer love story between Taylor and Abigail as Belle and the Beast, while pretending that they're in a real relationship as Belle™ and Gaston. The dynamics in the love triangle between Belle, Belle ™, Beast and Gaston remain the same regardless of who's playing which character. For example the 'bejewelled' music video ended with Taylor playing the role of Belle, and Jack playing the role of Gaston. She turned down his proposal and kept the castle. It's implied that she ended up alone but the reference to the Beast's castle suggests otherwise. Just like Taylor turned off the yellow light at the end of the 'all too well' short film and kept the blue light on, she's choosing Abigail over and over again in private. It ends with Abigail's character outside in the snow looking in because the spell keeping the beast frozen in time isn't broken until the very end. In the meantime Taylor has had to get clever with using other symbols to represent Abigail's presence in the shadows of the west wing.

"This castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you like, except the West Wing."

"But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west"

"The joker and the queen" 🃏👸🏼

Mascots

"I come back stronger than a 90's trend"

I've been viewing Taylor's story through a queer lens, a millennial lens and even a Truman show lens. Eventually I began viewing other forms of media through a Taylor Swift lens too, but more specifically late 90's and early 00's movies. I recently watched the 2003 movie 'stuck on you' which coincides with how Abigail has remained hidden in plain sight over the years. Bob and Walt are conjoined twins who spend their days working in a burger shop and at night Bob struggles with panic attacks due to accompanying Walt on stage while he performs in a play. Eventually they leave their small town of Martha's Vineyard and travel to Hollywood together so that Walt can pursue an acting career. Once he lands a role on a TV show it becomes clear that they've found many ways to conceal Bob's presence as he's barely visible on the edge of the screen. Meanwhile Bob meets up with his long distance girlfriend who doesn’t know that they’re conjoined twins. Bob is hesitant to tell her the truth so their roles become reversed as Walt tries to disguise himself and blend into the background.

"You know how to ball, I know Aristotle"

With this in mind, we can begin to see how certain mascots and items might be a subtle reference to Abigail when it would be too obvious if she was always present. And Chewbacca in particular is a mascot worth paying attention to. Not only is there a 'stuck on you' burger and fries reference in Taylor’s box of lies skit with Jimmy Fallon, there’s also a scene with Chewbacca walking a black beetle through Central Park. In Jenna Ortega’s box of lies skit was the above picture of cousin Itt with a picture of Jimmy and Chewbacca recreating the ‘stuck on you’ scene. I also pointed out recently that there was a hidden connection to the golden egg on the Stephen Colbert skit. In the video linked to that picture is a clip of Chewbacca catching a football. And guess who dressed up as Chewbacca for Halloween? Abigail and Taylor. Just like they've found ways to tell their story over and over again, mascots like Chewbacca who looks like the Beast is an indirect reference to Abigail living in exile without being a direct link to the story of Belle and the Beast.

Cats

“I don’t dress for friends.

Lately, I’ve been dressing for revenge.”

I mentioned earlier that Taylor's newest cat Benjamin Button seemed to be a codename for Abigail, but this concept began with Olivia Benson and Meredith Grey. Taylor has three cats but Meredith was the only cat included in the Midnights Mayhem with Me when 'Vigilante Shit' was announced. On the tortured poets department bulletin board there were three photos from the album variant announcements, a timetable and one personal photo which was a selfie of Taylor with Meredith. This seems like a typical photo for Taylor to include in her videos but when you compare it to the original photo it's apparent that the one on the bulletin board has been mirrored with Taylor on the left instead of on the right. This implies that Merideth is the cat that represents Abigail and mirroring the picture reveals that they’ve been sharing the story from Abigail’s perspective all along. And guess what date Taylor adopted Meredith? October 31st 2011, just shy of 13 years go.

"Karma is a cat, purring in my lap 'cause it loves me"

In the parent trap movie Allie and Hallie grew up apart and they both had two halves of the same photo, which lead them to discover that they were related. Taylor and Abigail have recreated this concept by showing the swifties the love story and the gaylors the queer story. This is why the swifties don’t recognise that Taylor could be queer and why the gaylors don’t recognise that the male love interest represents a real relationship. The key to understanding the bigger story being told is to understand that it's not one or the other, it's both. Taylor and Abigail are both telling a queer love story. And Jack was the key to understanding that all of the male muses represent both Taylor and Abigail’s relationship, mixed in with the story of Taylor™. His portrait in the 'bejewelled' music video is just like the photo in the 'anti hero' music video and the proposal is just like the one in the 'Me!' music video. These all tell two sides of the same story. In the 'lover' music video Taylor is eating spaghetti with her muse. This reflects the only scene that features Abigail in the 'Miss Americana' documentary where she seems to be a guest as Taylor cooks spaghetti for their dinner. And would it be a stretch to suggest that Abigail is also the mysterious masqueraded character who floats down with the orange umbrella in the 'Me!' music video too? Just like the picture of Jack with his round glasses, all of these references to Abigail have been hidden in plain sight to create an ongoing scavenger hunt much like trying to find the hidden characters in a "Where's Wally?" book. Each page tells a slightly different story, but the main characters remain the same. And what happens when you combine Taylor and Abigail's names together? The name abigaylor sounds pretty good. Or perhaps tabby cat is a little more accurate? 🐈🧡

Lover house

"You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round"

Taylor had an interview on her 21st birthday where she described her plans to sit at home pretending that she lived inside a snow globe for the rest of the day. ❄️ This sounds anticlimactic in theory, but what she's alluding to is the imagery of the lover snow globe. Each room reflects a different aspect of Taylor and Abigail's relationship. The fishbowl is a reference to Abigail stepping into the public view during the fearless era. The games room shows their scheming, while the attic represents their long term plans and recording music at electric lady studios. The pink room shows the duality of Taylor's public and private relationships. 🪞 The red room shows the performance they put on when they're seen together. And the green room with the picture of Benjamin Button is the only room where Taylor wasn’t wearing any shoes, implying that this is the space they share in private where they feel comfortable enough to be themselves. This suggests that the types of shoes Taylor wears hold a deeper meaning. I’ve been wondering if the red bottom soles on all of Taylor’s eras tour shoes are supposed to be another reference to Abigail, just like the toys in the toy story movie have Andy's name scrawled on the bottom of their shoes to indicate who they belong to. The scene in the ‘Me!’ music video where Brendon Urie is tapping on the soles of Taylor’s cowboy boots has always felt a little too random to not be a reference to something meaningful. The drum kit has always felt out of place too because Taylor mostly plays the guitar and piano, but Taylor's comment about Dylan O'Brien playing the drums while they were hanging out implies that this was another reference to Abigail having a go at playing the drums earlier in Taylor's career. Despite pretending to just be best friends in public, this scene represents the quality time they get to share in private.

"I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind"

It seems like we haven't been looking far enough into the past to find parallels to Taylor and Abigail's story, especially the artists Taylor has collaborated with. There are a couple of Ed Sheeran songs that seem to match their story, especially 'Lego house'. "I'm gonna paint you by numbers and colour you in. If things go right we can frame it and put you on a wall." The song describes a house similar to the lover house, and yet the music video feels like it could have been the music video for 'exile'. This combination reveals the dichotomy between the privacy Taylor and Abigail gained by having an authentic relationship in private in contrast to the loss of not being able to be together as a couple in public. And the music video deals with the repercussions that come from being hidden from view. Just like the 'anti hero' music video, Rupert Grint is living in exile with the ghosts of Ed Sheeran. He repeatedly tries to find Ed Sheeran, just like the concierge guy in red trying to reach Taylor in the 'delicate' music video, which is yet another reference to the Truman show. Does this reference to another version of the lover house imply that the lover house on the eras tour is where the shadow of Abigail resides? That sounds an awful lot like a mirrored version of the giant Taylor screaming for help...🪞

Music partners

"And will you still want me when I'm nothing new?"

Taylor created a studio in her home during lockdown, but this subtly implied that she's had one long before everyone else went into lockdown because they had already been living in an endless version lockdown. When it was announced that Taylor was going to have a duet on Gracie Abram’s album I was intrigued because it’s usually newer artists collaborating on Taylor’s album, not the other way around. It now seems like this was intentional to draw attention to how Gracie collaborated with her best friend Audrey as well as her role directing the music videos. It’s difficult to prove connections like these when Taylor isn’t directly involved, but having others sharing details of her story allow her to get closer to sharing the truth without drawing attention to the fact that the story is being repeated over and over again. When Truman finally leaves he ends with repeating his infamous catchphrase to demonstrate that he's been putting on a play within a play by mimicking everyone else's repetitive behaviour. The director is left with a look of disgust as he realises that Truman has been telling him the same story over and over and over again since the very beginning. Taylor has been doing the same thing, except the repetitiveness is harder to find.

"I've had to learn to say different versions of common phrases like "shake it off", "you need to calm down". Like, I've had to figure out how to not say puns of my own songs in conversation. I've gotten *sort of* good at it."

"Speak not tired tacky wench. Clean!"

Abigail's participation in Taylor's music videos and shows was a big step, but it was her surprise appearance during Taylor's interview with Ellen that really cemented her role as Taylor's best friend. It's likely that Abigail has been credited as a ghost writer over the years, if not all along. And perhaps the story about Dylan O’Brian playing the drum kit and William Bowery was the beginning of divulging Abigail’s involvement in the songwriting process. Acknowledging Joe using a pseudonym and thanking her boyfriends on stage are all part of the process of drawing attention to Taylor and Abigail's experience so that it's easier to understand when the truth is revealed. During an interview with Drew Barrymore and Jack Antonoff were discussing the Grammys. They were implying that they both felt shy around other artists in the same way that Abigail might have felt or appeared to be when she first went to the Grammys as Taylor’s date. They have so many people involved with describing Abigail's presence now, and they’ll keep repeating the story until it becomes obvious enough that the majority start to pick up on their behaviour. It's likely that any restrictions on Abigail being a collaborator ended when Taylor moved to her new record label and instead of revealing their experience to the public straight away, they've been sharing the pieces of the puzzle with us instead so they can dedicate their time to sharing their secrets and the lessons they've learned over the years with the new generation of artists.

Lucky numbers

"And she's laughing drawin' aces"

It's well known that 13 is Taylor’s lucky number. At one point she mentioned that it was the highlight of her life when she turned 31 on the 13th. But what if the numerology surrounding that number also reflects her love for Abigail? I’ve mentioned before that Taylor wearing this number on her hand could be a reference to W vs M muses and perhaps the 1 is also a reference to Abigail. There are two 13's on the wedding cake in the 'I bet you think about me' that add up to 26. If the number 26 is a red herring then it would actually be 13 + 31 = 44. 4/4 is Abigail's birthday and 4 + 4 = 8, which creates an infinity symbol. During the bejewelled music video the shell shaped watch said that “exile ends in 3, 2”. It was missing was the 1, but why? Number 1 is often associated with the letter A, which is often associated with the ace card. Taylor had an ace of spades in her hat during the 'I knew you were trouble' music video. This is typically seen as the highest ranking card in a standard 52 pack of cards, which suggests that Taylor is saving hers for the very end. ♠️ The number 1 is also known as uno in Spanish. UNO cards and products with the letter A are heavily featured at Questlove’s game nights. When you play a game of UNO you're supposed to yell out "knock, knock UNO!" when you're playing your second last card to let everyone else know that you're about to win. This gives the other players a chance to play their best hand in an attempt to prevent you from winning the game. This is exactly what happened every time Truman talked about wanting to go to Fiji ('Florida!!!'). The director was forced to respond by trying harder and harder to prevent Truman from leaving and unwittingly revealed his best hand each time he did so, allowing Truman to successfully plan his escape. So many of us have picked up on the signs that Taylor had plans to come out several times over the years and it's possible that she's been using this strategy to force her opponents to reveal their best hand, just like they did during the lover era. For lack of a better word, it's edging someone over and over again by saying "I'm going to do it! I'm going to do xyz!" over and over again and pulling out at the last minute. Counting down with "3,2" is implying that the next time it will be "3,2,1 blast off!" but never following through. And just like Truman left at the very end, Taylor and Abigail's story is going to end in the same way the 'Me!' music video did, with an explosion of rainbows. 🌋🌈

"Don’t you love a good puzzle?"

The black cat is one of the most notorious talismans associated with both the numbers 13 and 31. 🐈‍⬛ We already know how much Taylor loves Christmas and I wouldn't be surprised if Abigail loves halloween just as much. 'The nightmare before Christmas' is a combination of both seasonal celebrations in a halloween movie, just like 'how the grinch stole Christmas' is a combination of both seasonal celebrations in a Christmas movie. Taylor and Abigail's story is an amalgamation of millennial coded references but it always felt like there was one big piece of the puzzle missing. If it's a puzzle then what sort of puzzle is it? A jigsaw puzzle. 🧩 And if the Halloween theme is the missing link, then the missing piece of the puzzle is the jigsaw killer from the saw movies! 🪚 "I want to play a game. The rules are simple." The first movie features Adam and Dr Lawrence who wake up to find they've been chained up in a grungy bathroom. They're both given simple rules to follow that are designed to help them escape, but straying from the rules doesn't end well. "The jigsaw piece that I cut from my subjects was only ever meant to be a symbol that that subject was missing something. A vital piece of the human puzzle. The survival instinct." Following the rules and not straying from the directions sounds simple in theory, but it's proves to be a challenge when his victims stray from the directions thinking they can outsmart him. ☠️ The Truman show begins with the director describing his reasons for creating a show with Truman as the star 24/7. "We've become bored with watching actors give us phony emotions. We are tired of pyrotechnics and special effects." Taylor and Abigail have combined the elaborate puzzles and cryptic clues that the jigsaw killer had created with the strategy and facade that Truman had used to conceal his plan to escape into an extensive web of Easter eggs, pop culture references and cryptic riddles that span all the way back to the very beginning. 🕸 And just like the jigsaw killer was a mastermind and included himself in the game, Abigail’s reticent presence in a room full of celebrities as the ‘straight best friend’ automatically eliminated her as a possible suspect when searching for Taylor’s partner in crime. ♟

The key

“I wanna be your A team”

The woman behind the curtain may not be so hidden after all. Someone once called me a "Hidden Mickey Gaylor" and I couldn't think of a more accurate description to explain how I managed to follow the trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the gingerbread house. But the truth is that I relate to Taylor's music so much because I relate to Abigail's experience living in exile. I just reached the six month mark of being bed bound with severe ME and have felt exiled from my own life while I haven't been well enough to leave the house. It's impossible to comprehend the fact that I haven't left the house at all for half a year. The gaylor community, Taylor's music and the lore that surrounds it has been a source of comfort and respite from the loneliness at a time where I've never felt more alone.

"This way to the (Tennessee) whiskey?"

I understand that if I'm right about Taylor and Abigail's love story then everyone else has been wrong about Taylor's muse, but if I'm wrong then all of this has been wildly inappropriate. I'd highly recommend going back to the start and rereading this post again to get a better understanding of how all of these pieces of the puzzle fit together with more context. The benefit of putting together a puzzle that contains a cypher is that the message is unlocked when the pieces fit together correctly. The 'folklore long pond studio sessions' ends with a subtle joke about whiskey, but more specifically it felt like they were talking about Tennessee whiskey. Also, Taylor has used this combination of emojis with a black cat following the tabby cat a few times over the years. Together it feels like the Tennessee whiskey is a codename that is referencing the orange whiskers on a cat who lives in Tennessee. 🐈🐈‍⬛

Taylor is the tabby cat wearing her scarlet letter. 🧡

Abigail is the black cat hiding in the shadows. 🖤

And in private they're just two cowgirls. ���

"I have a lot of rules placed on my life

And I just choose not to apply rules to love."

A tortured poet,

Kylie x

P.S. My favourite colour is orange too 🧡

[kaiso-woo]

Sunshine to the Moon

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Masterlist　

PART 4 of my ‘Stay Series’ - a long hypothesised journey of a relationship between Bang Chan and Reader.

WC: 4.2k | Synopsis: Slice of Life, another night after closing shop. Your Café has gotten busier thanks to that Skz-Code Episode filmed there finally being released. Tonight however, Chris is here to brighten the night. This is the first time you both admit to loving each other by the way - but it’s cute I promise.

Notes: FLUFF, Angst (if you squint, and I mean really squint), Second Person Narration, Skz Fluent in English, Swearing, Idol!Chan, Barista!Chan, CaféOwner!Reader, Fem!Reader, Cringe Cringe-Cheesy-Corny-Slight Suggestiveness-Insufferable Flirt (Thanks Chris), Shirtless!Chan (IT’S BED TIME), Swearing, Pet Names Used (Jagiya, Jagi, Baby, Sweetie, Love), Kisses (Duh)

Here for a reading marathon? Head right back to the start!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

Overall ‘Stay Series’ Synopsis: Bang Chan experiences the suic!des of Stays, so when you lot choose to die, he dies right along with you. Reader is the “antidote” to this condition - NOT MENTIONED IN THIS PARTICULAR FIC

PART 4

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

—

It’s been another tiring day. Perhaps even more chaotic than ever before. Chris had given you warning, but JYPE had only just released the Skz Code Episode that they filmed ages ago here. Chris had argued to have it released at a later date, to protect your privacy and give you more time to live normally before things suddenly changed.

He was right of course, with Stay’s being the detectives they are, and Stray Kids being the famous idols they are, your Café was soon discovered, and before long you had a stream of customers flowing in and out practically around the clock. They’d take photos where the members sat, ask if they left messages around the place, ask you so many questions about them that you didn’t feel you had the right to answer.

Even with Ashley by your side, doing her best to help keep the business afloat on a daily basis things were strained. You’ve just recently set up an application process for new employees because dear lord, you needed them. Ashley even suggested adjusting your usual policy, which you were hesitant to do at first, but eventually caved at the exhaustion evident in your poor, younger friend and employee. 

Customers were no longer allowed to stay overnight, and you closed at 11pm rather than 1am now. It was perhaps your least favourite thing to do – going around to wake up sleeping customers when it was time to close shop. Chris was right, Ashley is bright… and awfully considerate. She even considered that it’d be beneficial for your relationship with Chris, closing shop early, so you can spend more time together when he’s here.

Naturally, Chris can no longer help you at the coffee machine, even if he wears a full disguise, Stay’s would recognise him immediately. Whenever he visits, he can’t do much except lounge around in your upstairs apartment. It pains you to have to lock him up, but both of you know you can’t risk a scandal. Previously, Ashley would be able to hold the fort, allowing you and Chris to escape out on a little date, but not now… now you’re too busy to leave Ash by herself. You really really need new employees. Preferably people who aren’t Stay’s… so you can explain your relationship with Chris and not have them leak any information. 

This… this is too much.

–

You sigh and rest your forehead on the cold glass of the window. You’re meant to be pulling down the shutters, having finally kicked James out of your Café. As per usual, he was asking too many questions, wondering why you’re suddenly so busy. He asked you out again the other day, and you finally snapped. You told him, straight and clear, that you were taken. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea, because he now spends a lot of his time asking you who you’re dating; of course, you can’t tell him.

A pitiful groan rumbles through your throat, and you try to quell the hurricane of thoughts swirling incessantly in your mind. The chill of the glass is a small reprieve, but it still hurts to think.

“Jagiya… baby, are you okay?” someone calls out to you. Your heart leaps into your throat at the endearment, and you muster the energy to spin yourself around, eyes lazily falling onto the man standing at the bottom of the staircase, his face distorted in concern.

“Another boring day for you, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, Chris,” you murmur, dragging yourself towards him with your head drooping. He meets you halfway, immediately pulling you into a tight embrace and placing an affectionate kiss on the top of your head, “Sweetie it’s okay. I’m perfectly happy to work on our songs all day.”

You sigh into his shirt and twist the fabric in your hands desperately, your heart aching, “You might be but I’m not…” you pull away so you can see his face and pout sadly, “You’re meant to be here on break, not working away.”

His soft smile causes your heart to melt, the ache only intensifying after he pecks your nose with a delicate kiss, “Jagi. You’re working, so why can’t I?”

You frown at him and lightly thump your forehead into his chest several times, frustrated, “We both shouldn’t be working.” His hand drifts up to knot itself in your hair, stopping your actions, “Shhh shh, don’t be like that baby.” You grumble and pull away from him properly, but not before he swoops in to kiss your cheek. 

“It isn’t so bad… once you finish closing up we can hang out, yeah?” his eyes are sparkling mischievously, and you sigh in resignation, knowing that he’s right. You turn to finish closing the shutters, and Chris continues to talk, “Besides, I’m the one who should be apologising…” The shutter hits the ground with a little click, “Why?”

“If I hadn’t asked to film that episode here your business would never have gotten this busy,” he frowns, absently fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. You swivel on your heel and stalk up to him, “Don’t-” you lightly pinch his arm, “-you say that. Ever.”

Chris smiles shyly down at you, his gaze sorrowful, guilty. You shake your head at him, grab his wrist and tug him along up the stairs, “Come on, you go wash up and I’ll whip up a late dinner, if you haven’t eaten already.” 

Chris pushes ahead of you suddenly, opening your apartment door with an elegant twist of the door handle, “There’s no need baby, dinner’s in the fridge. I’ll heat your share up for you.”  You blink at him in confusion, but he merely grins back at you. “You… cooked me dinner?”

Chris snatches at your waist and pulls you in for a swift kiss, stunning you, “Anything to make your life easier.”

–

After half an hour of arguing with Chris about why he shouldn’t have cooked dinner for you (in which you only shut up after he physically shoved food into your mouth), you’re now sitting comfortably in your bed, blankets pulled over your knees, as your eyes skim the page of the book you’re reading. Chris insisted you wash up first, so you’re currently waiting for him to finish up in the bathroom.

“Tomorrow’s Wednesday isn’t it?” He asks, emerging from the bathroom in only his boxers. Your eyes briefly flicker from your book to the defined lines of his abs, before you return to nonchalantly reading, “Yeah. Café’s closed tomorrow.” “You can look longer you know,” Chris grins, his arms crossed over his chest. “Shut up,” you grumble back, turning to the next page of your book.

Chris giggles happily and crawls into the bed next to you, his arms immediately taking residence around your waist despite you sitting upright. “Mmh you smell good,” he mumbles, and you spare him a glance. His nose is buried in your shirt, his hair askew over his eyes. Carefully, you brush the curls away, and he snuggles even closer, “I just showered.” 

Chris’ voice comes out muffled, “Okay and? I just showered and I don’t smell as good as you.”  This elicits a small chuckle from you, “Maybe you should start using my products then.” He inhales obnoxiously and then sighs in content, “I think I will.”

“Chris, I’ll be back, I've got to turn the lights off,” you murmur, massaging his scalp briefly. He only tightens his hold on you, a little whine escaping, “No. You stay.” “Baby let me go please.” “No.” “You literally left them on.”  Chris sighs and rolls away from you, his displeasure evident on his face, “Fineeee.”

You roll your eyes at him and pad over to the bathroom, hyper aware of your boyfriend watching your every movement. He sits up as you amble over to turn off the light for the bedroom, your thumb holding the current page in the book you’re reading. Finally, in the darkness, you fumble around for the lamp beside your bed so you can continue reading for a little longer. Its warm glow reveals Chris still watching you, a half-smile, half-smirk plastered on his face.

As you crawl back into bed and try to get comfortable, Chris chuckles and leans his head back onto the headboard, “You might as well call me that lamp,” he begins, eyes boring into the ceiling as though something fascinating was up there.

“Why…?” you pause, preparing yourself for the inevitable joke you’re about to hear. Chris grins evilly, and tilts his head towards you lazily, “Because you turn me on.” You hiss and make to whack him on the head with your book, but his reflexes kick in and he swiftly grabs your wrist.

“Oh I knew you were going to do that,” he laughs, leaning over so he can kiss a trail of warmth down your trapped arm. Your eyes are wide as he grins sinfully up at you, his tongue poking his cheek playfully. “Go to bed you little shit,” you gripe, yanking your wrist away from him and turning the lamp off in a rash decision. 

At least he can’t see the crimson blush on your face now.

“Awh… you don’t want to read anymore?” he mocks, his arms finding home around your waist again, pulling you in close so he’s spooning you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “Nope. We’re sleeping now,” you demand, linking one of your hands with one of his that’s on your stomach.

The pair of you settle into silence, your mind drifting off into haze at the steady sound of Chris’ breathing, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back. You’ve been absently tracing his knuckles, trying to memorise the specific rise and fall of each, and the spacing between them. After a while, you stop, not because you want to, but because your mind has fallen deep into that state of fuzziness between almost falling asleep and being barely conscious.

“Is it possible to get… water hungry?” Chris murmurs, dragging you out of your semi-slumber. “Hmm?” you croak, as Chris adoringly rubs his nose on the back of your neck, making you shiver. You can feel him grin at your reaction, and you’re half tempted to shove him away from you so you can sleep in peace.

“Water hungry. Is that a thing?” he repeats, and the question properly registers in your brain.  You frown and shimmy yourself around, so your noses are now touching. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you squint to try and see his eyes in the darkness, “Do you mean thirsty?” 

A small smile cracks onto your face when Chris inhales sharply and stops breathing. After a loud silence, he makes a noise of embarrassment, and you giggle lightly. “I think I’m tired,” he whispers, trying to inch himself even closer to you. “Then go to sleep,” you scoff, closing your eyes again. “Can’t,” he bites back. “Why not?”

“You’re not hugging me,” Chris’ leg shifts to tangle itself in between yours, and after another little giggle, you wrap your arms around his waist, resuming your soothing rubs on his back this time. “Your hands are cold,” he complains against your lips.

“Then put on a damn shirt.”  “Awh but you like it when I’m not wearing one.” Stomach swooping, you blow sharply on his face in feigned annoyance, causing him to draw back slightly with a laugh. “Go to fucking sleep,” you say once more, because clearly he didn’t understand you the first time.

–

Later on in the night, the bathroom summons you, and with a quiet grumble, you roll yourself out of bed. Thankfully, Chris has drifted over to his side of the bed in his sleep and doesn’t have himself tangled around you. Carefully, you click on your lamp and tiptoe to use the toilet. 

When you’re done, you decide you don’t really want to go back to bed yet. Instead, you crawl over to sit cross-legged on the floor, analysing your boyfriend’s face in the half-light of the room. He’s snoring gently, his lips slightly parted. Your heart softens at the way his cheek is squished up against his arm, strands of his curly hair clinging adorably to his forehead.

You hoist yourself up onto your knees and brush the strands back, heart swelling as your gratitude for his existence threatens to tumble out of your mouth. No, you must stay quiet. Don’t wake him, he needs to sleep. You’re still stroking his hair back softly, your thumb brushing his forehead delicately when his snoring stops.

You gulp and pull away from him, hurrying back around the bed so you can crawl back under the covers, Chris’ back to you. Still, you don’t turn the lamp off, not entirely finished with admiring him, even from behind. His back is slightly exposed to you after you had pulled the covers down to get out of bed, and you make no move to hide it again. 

It’s in this moment, smiling gently at his figure, your heart full to the brim, that you realise it all over again. He’s yours. You’re his. You’d die for this man. You’d play limbo with the devil just to crawl your way back up to him. You’d pledge your life to counting the stars if he so asked. It doesn’t matter that it would take forever, because your forever lies within him.

You shuffle closer, and after a brief hesitation, begin to happily trace the lines of his back muscles, relishing in the softness of his skin. You pause, checking to make sure he’s still sleeping, and then continue your drawing motions. You’re lost in thought, thinking about where you could possibly take him out to tomorrow because you’re finally free. Your gaze is watching your fingers absently move, but you’re not really paying attention. It’s after a minute of repeating the same action that you realise what you’ve done.

Subconsciously, you’ve been writing the same words over and over on his back. You stop, fingers ghosting his skin, and swallow. Then one more time, confirming it for yourself, you rewrite the same words.

I Love You

You do. You love him. You love- you love him. This sudden understanding causes you to gasp slightly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You trace the lines again, a little faster this time, fully picturing the words on his back. 

Chris abruptly rolls over, his eyes immediately boring into yours, and your hand snaps up to your mouth in an attempt to stifle your surprise. He’s smiling softly, eyes crinkling in delight.vSlowly, he reaches for the hand covering your mouth, opening your palm out to him. With a single finger, he lightly traces your palm, and you realise almost instantly that he’s writing letters, one by one. 

He's nibbling his bottom lip slightly in concentration, and when he finishes, his eyes flicker back up to you. You know of course, exactly what he’s written there, each stroke of his finger sending the letters jolting towards your heart. You had just spent the past few minutes writing the exact same thing on his back. You’re still silent though, trying to process, mind whirring faster than it ever has before. Chris takes your silence as confusion and begins to write the words again, as gentle as the first time.

He's halfway through writing “love” when you slip your wrist out from his hand and promptly bury your face into his chest, hands snaking around his back tightly.

“Are you serious?” you whisper, curling up on yourself, face burning. “Are you?” he whispers back, caressing the back of your head. You pull away from him and sit up, eyes wide with shock. He stares right back at you, waiting for your answer, his dark eyes searching yours. You lean down and peck his forehead, “I love you,” then his right cheek, “I love you,” his nose, “I love you,” his chin. 

You kiss him everywhere you can possibly reach from his shoulders up, avoiding his lips for whatever instinctive reason, repeating those same words over and over again, a mantra.  Your actions reduce Chris to a mess of giggles and happy laughs, “Okay, okay, okay!”

He grabs the back of your head and roughly pulls you in for a real kiss, but his lips are soft against yours, tender. When you pull away, your lips still linger, and it is like this that you feel and hear him say the disastrous words back, “I love you too.” Your laugh comes out as a breathy giggle, and suddenly you’re kissing him again, everywhere you can. “Baby, baby,” he laughs, “Stop it.”

But you can’t. You literally, physically can’t. Somehow you’ve managed to crawl on top of him, straddling his bare chest. Chris grabs your shoulders and pushes you up, grinning at you from below, “Since when were you this affectionate?” he coos, hands sliding over to cup your face and squish your cheeks. You roll your eyes at him and press on his chest lightly, again, feigning annoyance.

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs with a dopey expression, “My love is adorable.” “Shut up,” you whine, collapsing on top of him and hiding in his neck. My love. My love. My fucking love. “I love you. So much. And you love me back,” Chris laughs, wrapping his arms securely around you, “Wow! You love me back. Wow… This is the best day of my life.” “I said shut up,” you grumble.

–

You wake in the darkness, mind immediately tracking back to your moment of “I love you’s” earlier, butterflies swirling intensely in your stomach. Then you realise the reason you’ve woken up in the dead of night again, is because Chris isn’t sleeping with his arms around you. You roll over and find him sitting up in bed, his headphones snug around his ears, forehead creased in concentration as he clicks away on his laptop. You sit up and place your chin on his shoulder, staring at him with googly eyes. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Chris mumbles, turning his head slightly. “What’re you doing awake?” you ask, carefully slipping the headphones off his head to rest around his neck. “Mmh… inspiration struck me, so I wrote a new song,” his eyes haven’t left his computer screen, even without his headphones on he continues to work.

“Chris it’s 2am,” you sigh, taking over the touchpad to check the time in the top right hand corner, “go back to sleep, love.”  He inhales sharply and fully turns towards you, a slow grin emerging, “You see, that is exactly why I cannot sleep.” You blink at him in confusion, and he elaborates, “You can’t just brush my hair out of my face, spend the next five minutes writing ‘I love you’ over and over again on my back, pepper me with a billion kisses, and then expect me to sleep.”

You grin shyly at him, your head drooping, “Now you’re just making me feel bad because I fell asleep.” “No. No that is not what I-” You interrupt him by reaching over and sliding his computer out of his hands. Carefully, you hit the command to save his work, eyes briefly skimming over the saved title ‘For My Love’. 

“You were inspired to write a song for me?” you chuckle, closing the laptop and removing his headphones from his neck.  Carefully, you place them both on your bedside table, and grope around to pull him down into the bed. You can tell by how warm his face is when you press close that he’s blushing.

“So what if I was?” he asks. “So… I think you’re really cute, but your love wants you to get more sleep,” you giggle, pulling his head underneath your chin.  “Okay…” he mumbles, breath growing laboured with sleep.

–

Chris wakes with his nose buried in your hair, and he immediately grins. He abandons your warmth to grab his phone and check the time. It’s just past 9am, you both should really get up and get going, but he doesn’t particularly feel like it. You roll onto your back in your sleep, and a mischievous glint catches his eye when he notices your shirt hike up a little, revealing your bare stomach.

Chris swiftly scampers into the adjacent office, plucks a random marker from your desk, and then carefully crawls back onto the bed, doing his best to not wake you. He lifts your shirt up a little higher, then with his tongue sticking out, uncaps the marker and writes the message ‘Chris was here!!’ on your stomach, complete with his little dino-worm drawing.

Just as he’s finishing up, you groan and your eyes flutter open, noting the sharp prod of something on your stomach. In a second however, it disappears, and Chris has crawled on top of you. He moves to kiss your cheek, but still hazy with sleep, you don’t register what he’s doing and accidentally move your head.

What was meant to be a wholesome good morning peck turns into a surprising peck on the lips. You stare at him with wide eyes, and his cheeks immediately bloom red. You grin at how embarrassed he is and lean up to give him a legitimate kiss good morning. You’re both grinning like idiots now, and you’ve completely forgotten about whatever it was that Chris was doing on your stomach earlier.

Exactly Chris’ plan. Distraction… successful.

“Good morning sunshine…” he happily chirps, the familiar endearment causing you to smile happily. This time though, you have an idea. “Good morning moonlight,” your smile intensifies as Chris pauses, stunned, and you wriggle your way into a seated position, forcing him to do the same.

“Moonlight?” he questions, his voice cracking slightly in the early morning. “Yeah. Moonlight. ‘Cause even in the darkness you still shine.” Chris blinks at you, then after a second, grabs your arm to pull you into his lap, “Okay sure,” he pecks the top of your head, a favourite action of his, “but you got one thing wrong. If you’re my sunshine and I’m your moonlight… then I shine because you do.”

You laugh and let Chris drag you both under the blankets again, hugging you tightly as if his life depended on it. After a minute of tranquil silence, you yawn, stretch and move to get up and out of bed. Chris doesn't crack open an eye as he grabs your head and forces you back down into the pillow, causing you to yelp.

“Chris! We’ve got to get up now,” you chide, pushing yourself back up and glaring at him. He’s smirking cheekily but his eyes are still closed, and you shake your head at him, “C’mon.” "Who says we have to get up?” he asks, finally staring back at you.

“I do.” You demand, and a little staring contest is initiated, neither of you blinking. Chris begins to pull faces and tease you, but you refuse to give in to his antics. “Okay fine fine,” he relents, “I’m getting up. But come here first.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Please,” he adds with a tiny nod. Bewildered, you shuffle over to him, only to scream in shock when he swiftly grabs your shirt and pulls it up over your head. The act is so out of the blue, and he’s unnecessarily strong that you can’t do anything about it. He runs off with your shirt and you curse, chasing him out of the bedroom and into the lounge room.

Chris grins like a mad man, sticking his tongue out at you from the other side of the couch. “Give me my shirt you fucking rascal,” you spit, but you’re grinning just as hard.

“Come and get it,” he teases, waving it around like it’s a flag. You move to one side of the couch, and he moves to the other. You both run in circles around the couch, giggling and yelling. Eventually, out of breath and panting, Chris laughing his heart out with his hands resting on his knees, you decide that this game should come to an end. While he’s occupied, you leap over the top of the couch and tackle him to the ground.

“Oh shit-” Chris wheezes as you wrangle your shirt out of his fist. You’re about to put it back on, when Chris sits up and stops you, struggling to talk properly through his laughter, “Hang on, babe wait. Look down.”

You do, your arms up in the air, halfway through the sleeves of your shirt. It takes you a moment to read his little message, and then with a yell, you use your shirt to whack him repeatedly.

His laughter doesn’t cease even after he’s pulled you on top of him to stop your playful, indignant hits. “God I love you,” he chokes out, resting his head back onto the floor, “Don’t rub it off, leave it there for the rest of today.” “I love you too, but I can’t leave it there, what if people see?” “Who’s going to see it underneath your shirt?” “What if I wanted to wear something cropped today?” “Then wear something cropped. Let the whole world know who you belong to.” “Chris. You know I can’t do that.” “Mmh but I want the whole world to know.” “Christopher.” “Fine fineeeee, okayyyyy. Just don’t wear anything cropped then. Want one of my hoodies?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> PART 5 　 -> Masterlist

A/N: Yay! Milestone Event 4 Check!

Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.

Until next read! - Kaisowoo

[cookies-over-yonder]

a thousand words left unsaid

dedicated to @iersei

Taylor and Link explore the undiscovered depths of the Swift household basement. ✧*.♡.*✧ DnDads Halloween Week Day 3: Things Left Abandoned

ao3

The Swift household is pitch black on the inside from the looks of it, and Link isn't quite sure why. He had planned to hang out with Taylor tonight, but wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary.

"Come inside," Taylor says with a mischievous lilt to his voice.

"Um, why are all the lights off?"

"It's spooky ," Taylor hands him a flashlight, and holds his hand, guiding him into the depths of the darkness.

Link chuckles a little. "Okay, but what are we doing?"

"We're exploring, obviously."

"But this is your house."

"True, true, but this is also a haunted mansion, and there are nooks and crannies unfamiliar to even me ," Taylor says, putting on this spooky narration voice that has Link cracking up again.

"Whatever you say, Taylor."

They head down to the basement, and Taylor opens a closet full of boxes.

"These boxes have been unopened since time immemorial…" he says.

"Whatever you say."

"And we are going to discover what's inside!" he shouts, picking up the first box and dropping it on the ground with a loud thump .

Taylor pulls out a switchblade and slices the tape on the top of it, and Link kneels down with him to lift up the flaps of cardboard.

"What do we have here?" Taylor asks, as they open the box to reveal a stack of dusty old novels.

"Books?"

"Ancient texts!" Taylor corrects, lifting one up and dusting it off. The cover reads Twilight . "These will be useful for our future journeys."

"Should we look through the rest of the books?" Link asks, playing into Taylor's adventure. He's so cute when he gets all roleplay-ey.

"No time! We must search through the other boxes," Taylor answers, bringing a couple more down from the closet. They all seem to be stacked haphazardly on top of each other.

Taylor passes Link his switchblade and resolves to use his sharp nails to slice the tape.

"Ah, more ancient texts!"

"Same here."

The two continue looking through the boxes and finding books neither recognize, save for some old editions of manga that Taylor keeps aside rather than putting them back in the boxes, and…

"At last! The final two."

One is bigger, and stacked atop the other. Link grabs it and starts to open it, while Taylor grabs the other one, dusting it off to do the same.

This box has a pair of shoes in it. They're big sneakers that were probably once white but now rock a slightly icky shade of yellow. There's a soccer ball next to it, also slightly yellow, and there's a little heart drawn on it in what appears to be black sharpie.

Nothing else is in the box.

"There's shoes and a soccer ball in mine, what about yours?" Link asks.

And from Taylor, there is nothing but a small gasp.

Link looks over, and he's got his flashlight pointed toward what looks like a picture frame.

Link scoots over and up close beside him to get a better view of what he's looking at, and oh .

It's a picture of Nicky, smiling and holding a baby in his arms, in a white frame with hearts drawn all over it, and at the bottom, in neat printing, it says, My Boys .

Taylor is quiet, except for increasingly shaky breaths.

"Taylor, I…"

What could Link even say?

And then it's too late, because Taylor puts the photo down on the floor and digs through the box with far too much aggression for a silly haunted mansion adventure.

There's a jersey, and some sweatshirts, and a beanie, and Link thinks he hears paper rustling, and Taylor pulls out what appears to be a letter in a tri-fold from the bottom of the box.

He unfolds it with shaky hands, and clears his throat.

Link doesn't think it a good idea, but he's not going to stop him.

And Taylor begins to read.

"Dear Cass, I'm so sorry I had to tell you this way, but I did it to keep you two safe," Taylor sucks in a breath, his voice shakier by the second, "I have to leave, I'm in trouble, and I can't let anything happen to you because they're after me. I've put money in the envelope, and I'll keep sending it for as long as I can."

Taylor stops for a second, and with what little light there is, Link can see tears start to slide down his face.

Just as Link opens his mouth, Taylor continues:

"I know Taylor won't remember me, but please give him a hug and a kiss on my behalf. I love you both, and… and…"

Taylor sucks in a shuddering breath, and breaks down in sobs.

Link is quick to envelop him in a hug, not caring that the paper crumples between them.

"Taylor, hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he soothes, carding his fingers through Taylor's hair.

Trembling violently in Link's grip, Taylor only whines and sobs harder, sucking in breath after breath as if he can't quite fill his lungs.

"It's okay, it's okay."

"It's not! " he shouts into Link's chest, shaking his head vigourously before whining again.

"Okay, maybe it's not, but I'm here okay? I'm here with you, and it's going to be okay."

" Link , I—"

Another sob rips through him, followed by the sound of Taylor nearing hyperventilation.

"Taylor, Taylor, breathe. Breathe with me okay? Deep breaths."

Taylor nods, and follows Link's lead in breathing deeply. It takes a while, and each little squeak and pained noise from Taylor struggling so much breaks Link's heart more and more, but eventually, he calms down, back to little whimpers and sniffles.

"That's better," Link hums, holding him close. "See? You're okay."

"Uh-huh…" Taylor mumbles, tear-laced and wobbly, before pulling away.

"This is my fault," he says, before putting the letter back in the box, on top of the clothes.

"Hey, no it's not."

Taylor whines again, swiping at his tears.

"Why don't we go upstairs and watch a movie?" Link asks, running his hand up and down Taylor's arm.

"Okay…" Taylor mumbles, moving to close the boxes full of books and collect the manga he found.

Link grabs the picture frame and moves to put it on top of the letter, but not before reading the last line Taylor couldn't get through:

I love you both, and maybe in another timeline, things could have been different.

- Nicky

[maccreadysbaby]

i saw that simon go by…

Im assuming that means you play dbh… do you wanna… like…. Put bentley in it…

crossovers and AUs are beginning to become my favorite thing ever because I shove my boy into the faces of my favorite characters and force them to love him

there's a little synopsis of dbh under the cut for my bentley followers that have no clue what I'm on about

⚠️also I know the narration swaps from calling Simon an it to calling him a he in the middle of the story — it’s purposeful, because that’s when Bentley stops calling him it and starts calling him he

Project: Killcode Drabbles

tw: lots of violence and gore, major character death right in front of bentley’s poor little baby eyes

wanna read the extended fic? here’s the table of contents!

⚠️ THIS IS NOT PART OF BENTLEY’S MAIN STORYLINE, THIS BENTLEY INSERTED INTO AN AU (ALTERNATE UNIVERSE.)

brief overview of DBH:

Detroit: Become Human is a third person/multiple protagonist choice-based game. It is set in the future, where perfectly human-like androids have been created, and the only thing that sets them apart are LED lights on their left temple and uniforms they have to wear with their designations on them. Humans use androids for everything, from hard labor, to pleasure, to housekeepers, to caretakers, and some, even temporary or lifelong artificial companions. These androids don’t feel pain, don’t feel emotions, and have no free will. They are programmed to follow orders given by their designated master, and that’s all.

Only, now, something is happening in Detroit. Androids are heavily abused in workplaces and residential settings, and due to them having no emotions and feeling no pain, humans feel no guilt for it. From using their bodies to put out their cigarettes, to tying them to the hitch of a car for fun, to beating them out of working order simply out of pure and unadulterated rage -- androids became an outlet, something people could shove around and bark orders at with no regrets.

But enough became enough, and much to society’s terror, the androids began to wake up one by one, few by few. They could feel emotions, and they acted out in fear against their abusers, abandoning their programming and obtaining free will.

These rogue androids are called deviants.

photos for your imagination ↴

↖︎ SIMON / PL600 Model Android — Bentley refers to him as both his model number (PL600) and Simon in this little thing (he’s the first android Bentley talks to so he won’t be hard to find)

↖︎ WR600 Model Android — the only other model that Bentley speaks briefly to, it’s the one who does the thing, you’ll see

DETROIT, MICHIGAN — FEBRUARY 16, 2036, 11:07PM

DEVIANTS WERE KILLING PEOPLE THROUGHOUT THE CITY OF DETROIT, AND JOHN WHITTAKER, A CYBERLIFE ADMINISTRATOR, WAS TASKED WITH FINDING OUT WHY.

That’s why he and Bentley had spent every waking hour since the first of the year down in the lab beneath their home, picking apart androids, wading through their coding, trying to find exactly what instability in their software was making them… feel. 

Androids, artificial humans, were created to serve mankind — emotionless, soulless beings with no free will, to do man’s labor and protect their livelihood. Robots created for pleasure, to do everything man asked of them; figurines, puppets for real humans to puppeteer at will. Someone to do the hard or uncomfortable jobs so humans could live like kings.

But now, Androids were… waking up. Developing feelings — urges that overrode their programming and equipped them with the three most dangerous assets artificial intelligences could ever dawn.

A will to live, emotions… and free will.

(If they didn’t find the problem soon, the androids were going to murder them all, Bentley’s father had said.)

The basement of Whittaker Estate was one large, concrete room, devoid of windows but so blindingly illuminated with massive lights that Bentley never knew what time it was when he was down there. In the center of the room stood a big, reclining bed, like in a hospital, and several computer-like machines standing around it. Lining the walls of the room were shackles -- thirty pairs of them, but at the current moment, only seventeen of them were working to keep androids stationary. Along the wall next to the door was industrial sized shelving, holding cases upon cases of spare android biocomponents — their internal parts.

In a chair next to the center bed was Bentley’s father, brown eyes and blood red hair just like his son, dawning a lab coat and official looking scrubs. He had on funky magnifying glasses and an array of small tools spread out on a rolling table before him. He hadn’t spoken to Bentley once since they’d come downstairs… at least twelve hours ago.

Pinned onto the bed by leather straps cinched tightly around its wrists, ankles, torso, and forehead, was an AX400 model android. One that was made to be a housewife, or maid -- a cleaner and caretaker. They were quite pretty, Bentley thought, but this one’s face was mangled and ripped open, it's blue blood staining the bed and the tools and Bentley’s father’s hands as he searched diligently for anything physical inside that may affect its programming. It had become a Deviant the night before in that very basement, broken through its coding and obtained free will. Tried to kill Bentley’s father.

(No one can kill him, Bentley was convinced. The now dead deviant was proof enough.)

The eleven year old was hovering near the walls where the other seventeen androids were shackled up, in a set of weird scrubs and tennis shoes his father required him to wear while downstairs. The androids they kept were all different makes and models, varying in appearance and gender, each one wearing the exact same black and white android uniform with their model numbers on them. They’d all been put into low power mode, which, to Bentley’s understanding, left them conscious but unable to move. He didn’t like watching his father pick around in a humanoid thing’s head, so he took to doing the second most important job in their little lab.

(And also the easiest job in their little lab; which he appreciated, since he wasn't really sleeping in favor of research, hadn’t eaten for at least fourteen hours, and was starting to feel a bit like the human epitome of death.)

It was running diagnostics. All he had to do was stand there.

Diagnostics were a surefire way to ensure that all an android’s internal systems were working -- and, if they got lucky, maybe even a way they’d be able to identify the issue in androids’ programming that allowed them to turn deviant. The androids they had in their possession weren’t deviants yet -- no emotions, and no free will. But Bentley had been trained on searching their programming and internal coding for errors or malfunctions or something laying dormant; something that would only turn volatile and flare up after a jarring circumstance.

Bentley had heard most androids turned deviant… after their owners abused them.

(Maybe if humans could get over themselves long enough to treat the companions they created like they were worth half the money and effort Cyberlife put into them, they wouldn’t be having this problem. But that was just Bentley’s opinion.)

Bentley sighed heavily as he stared at a PL600 model android, shackled to the wall, its head hung, eyes open but sort of… blank. It was a male model -- maybe a foot taller than the eleven-year-old, with a perfectly proportioned face, blonde hair, and big bluish-gray eyes. It looked seamless; natural. The only thing that separated its appearance from that of an actual adult man was the small, circular LED light that was shining blue on its left temple.  

(If it didn’t have that, no one would be able to tell it was an android. Which kind of freaked Bentley out.)

He glanced down at the tablet in his hand, typing in a few strings of code on the holographic screen -- a screen which indicated it was eleven-oh-seven at night. He sent a glance back to his father, but he was still dissecting the robot intently and didn’t seem close to finished, so Bentley safely assumed he was in for a long, long night.

He sighed lightly, opening up a diagnostic program on the tablet that started loading. The android’s make and model popped up on the screen when Bentley got close to it. “PL600, model 501 743 923, abort low-power mode.”

The android immediately perked at his words, its eyes suddenly brightening, lifting its head and gazing around the room. It attempted to bring up its hands, to look at them, but the shackles restricted its movement.

(It looked so much like a man shackled to their wall.)

Bentley stayed quiet, watching as the artificial human gathered its bearings, the LED light on its temple flashing from blue, to yellow in processing, then back to blue. Its gaze settled on Bentley, then flitted down to the tablet in his hands.

“I need to run an internal diagnostic,” Bentley said to the android, glancing at the metal clamps on its arms. “Station one, release.”

The shackles obeyed, releasing the PL600’s wrists and retracting into the wall.

The screen of the tablet Bentley was holding changed from a loading screen to a different one -- blue, with a big white hand in the center. “Put your hand here, please. It won’t hurt or anything.”

The android blinked at him, then at the tablet, its LED spinning yellow.

“Don’t talk to it like that, Bentley,” His father grumbled from across the room, hands stained blue from the synthetic blood of the mangled android. “It can’t feel pain. It doesn’t have feelings -- stop treating it like it does.”

Bentley said nothing, only sending a quick glance to his father that wasn’t returned. He extended the tablet out toward the android, which followed orders just as it was given -- placing its hand on the screen and waiting.

Bentley watched strings of code go by on the side of the screen, scanning it routinely for anything abnormal. 

Only when he felt that the android was looking at him did he glance back up at it.

It was staring down at him with its freakishly human face, with a freakishly human glint in its freakishly human eyes. That specific model was created as a residential companion -- a friend, a butler, a caretaker for children, maybe. Its primary instructions embedded into its code were to care for and serve a household. 

Maybe that's why Bentley wasn’t entirely surprised when it lifted its other hand to his forehead, the not-real-skin-but-felt-pretty-much-like-real-skin cool against his head. “You’re running an internal temperature of 99.8 degrees fahrenheit, which is a low grade fever. I suggest lots of fluid and rest.”

Bentley glanced up at the android. It had no concern on its face, it was just… watching him intently.

“Thanks… I’ll-“

Bentley heard his fathers chair spin around, glancing back just in time to catch his fiery brown eyes. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to my son? Touching him? 501 743 923, abort speaking functionalities and keep your damn artificial hands to yourself.”

The android’s LED flickered yellow again, and it closed its mouth, its hand drifting slowly away from Bentley’s forehead. 

It wouldn’t speak again until his father told it it could — because his father was its master. 

For the rest of the diagnostic time, Bentley paid little attention to the code he was supposed to be analyzing and paid whole-hearted attention to the android ahead of him. The way it blinked at irregular intervals just like a human, the way its chest rose and fell just like his even if there were no lungs inside it, the way it glanced around the basement in such an undeniably human way, taking in information, just like they did.

And his father was ripping one open across the room. For science.

(Bentley wasn’t an android sympathizer. He wasn’t. But it wasn’t exactly pleasant to watch something so similar to him, so human, getting ruthlessly wrenched apart mere feet from him, either.)

Once the diagnostic finished and Bentley had successfully paid no attention to it, he moved the tablet away from the android’s hand. “Thank… I mean, uh-“ He glanced back at his father, who had turned away from him again. “Um… station one, shackle.”

The metal shackles came back out of the wall, and the android obeyed the unspoken order, placing its wrists inside the metal and letting them close around them.

It made eye contact with Bentley again with its too human blue eyes, and he felt a little bit of… he didn’t really know. Remorse? Sympathy?

“PL600, 501 743 923, engage low power mode,”

The android’s head dipped down, its eyes got that weird, far off look again, and Bentley took a breath in and out. He glanced across the room at the sixteen remaining androids he had to run diagnostics on. 

He did five more in silence, picking through the androids’ coding, repeatedly coming up with nothing. Nothing abnormal, nothing strange, nothing out of the ordinary. (Not that he was doing a very good job — he sort of felt like falling asleep standing up, if he were being completely honest.) The whole time, his father just kept stabbing and ripping and tearing into the head of the android that looked so much like a dead girl, and every time Bentley glanced over at it, he kind of wanted to throw up.

“Father,” He spoke sheepishly, watching the shackles return the sixth android to its original position. “Can I go up to bed? I’m tired.”

Bentley’s father let out a long sigh, flicking a scalpel covered in blue blood in his direction. “Run one more diagnostic, then yes.”

With a quiet sigh of relief, Bentley moved to the seventh android, a WR600 model. It was created as a gardener to work Detroit’s land and greenhouses, and there were thousands and thousands of the exact same model, so it hadn’t been very hard for his father to purchase one. It looked sort of similar to the PL600 if Bentley looked close enough… but with a more angular face, a bit darker hair, grayer blue eyes. Taller, too, maybe.

“WR600, 107 916 718, abort low power mode,” Bentley spoke, and the android’s eyes went from dull and doll-like to shiny and glancing around the room in a split second. It looked up at him, then back toward his father. At the dead android whose blood was everywhere.

“I need to run a routine diagnostic,” Bentley stated, glancing at his father, then back at the station seven android. Its eyes were trained on the operating table, its LED spinning yellow, and for a short second, red.

Bentley creased his brow. Typically, an android’s light turned red to make its master aware of potential damage that could occur, or already had, but… this one wasn’t damaged. So Bentley didn’t really know why it was doing that.

“Is that… okay?” He continued quietly, holding up the tablet with the hand symbol. The android glanced at it, then at his face again, the LED changing continuously from yellow to red, yellow to red, over and over again.

“Stop asking the damn machines if stuff is okay. They’re made to serve us, they have no opinions because we don’t give them any. Jesus, just run the test and go to bed,” Bentley’s father grumbled, sounding completely and utterly over Bentley’s presence. He didn’t even look at him when he spoke.

Bentley huffed near-silently, glancing back at the android, whose gray eyes were still trained on the dead one that his father was picking through.

“Station seven, release,” Bentley muttered. The shackles released the android and disappeared from his line of sight, and he lifted the tablet up toward the robot. “Put your hand here.”

The android just stared at the dead one across the room.

Bentley blinked at it, then said, a little louder: “Put your hand here.”

The android looked back at him, its LED still changing from yellow to red as it hesitantly lifted its hand and placed it on the screen.

Bentley watched in boredom as code began to flash across the screen, looking the same as it did every single time he ran a diagnostic. (He wasn’t sure why his father made him run them over and over and over and over again. Maybe he didn’t trust Bentley’s judgment?)

A mere second before the diagnostic was supposed to be over, and Bentley was home-free to go up to bed and sleep until he was twenty-five, a string of code broke off from the rest, flashing red on the other side of the screen.

Bentley’s breath caught in his throat, and he glanced up at the android, who glanced up at him, worry and fear and anxiety etched across its features. Human emotions.

For a moment, neither of them moved. 

“Please,” The android murmured so softly it's mouth hardly moved, its eyes flicking to Bentley’s father, then back again. “Please, don’t tell him. He’s going to rip me apart like he did to that one. Please. I don’t want to die.”

Bentley blinked, his brown eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape. Emotions on its face, and a will to live? 

“You’re a deviant…” He whispered, so quietly that he barely heard it, gaze completely frozen on the androids face in shock.

“Please. I won’t do anything bad. I won’t cause any harm — just… just don’t let him kill me. Please. Please don’t say anything,” The android begged, its LED turning red and staying red. “Please. I just want to live. I just want to live, like you.”

Bentley looked down at the tablet, at the error in the code flashing at him. 

He’d found the answer to deviancy. Maybe now Cyberlife could fix it.

He looked back up at the android, and it had…

It had tears in its eyes. And Bentley knew that it was just an ability given to the android by Cyberlife to make it easier for it to integrate into human society, but…

“Please don’t let me die. I’m… I’m scared. Please,” It begged, its LED spinning yellow again, then red, synthetic tears falling from its eyes and streaming down its face. “You’re the only one who can save me.”

Bentley looked at it, then down at the tablet, at the red code flashing at him. He slowly moved the tablet away from the android’s hand.

He sent one last glance to its face, and then, with a deep breath, he turned. “Father, this one’s a-”

Bentley made a nearly inhuman sound when, from behind, the android grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall so hard it nearly knocked him clean out. It moved in front of him, its LED flashing red, tears still streaming down its face. “I’m sorry, you left me no choice.”

Bentley brought his hands up to claw at the android’s synthetic ones, but it had an iron grip that was too strong for even the most powerful human to budge. He tried to breathe but everything was constricted and it was holding his throat so tight nothing could get through.

“What the f- 107 916 718, engage low power mode!” Bentley had hardly realized his father was up and out of the chair, but he wasn’t coherent enough to look at him. He was frantically clawing at the android’s hands to no avail, his head seeming to inflate and pressurize like a balloon.

The android didn’t go into low power mode — it disobeyed its orders, and it pushed Bentley even harder against the wall, lifting him so his toes could barely brush the floor. “Let me go, and I’ll let him go,” It ordered. Its voice sounded… afraid.

Bentley tried his best to jam his fingers between his throat and the android’s hands, but he couldn’t — his vision was already starting to tunnel, black creeping into the edges of it.

“107 916 718, engage low power mode now!” His father shouted, his voice sounding strange and far-off to Bentley’s ears. He felt kind of like he was floating.

He was so out of it that he didn’t realize his father was moving before, with a loud wham, he’d slammed the office chair he’d been sitting in into the android’s head, sending it's entire body reeling to the right, Bentley hitting the floor to the left. 

For a solid thirty seconds, he couldn’t hear or see or comprehend anything more than pain and the cold floor he was on. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he heard the sounds of a struggle, but he couldn’t make sense of it, instead, bringing his hand up to his aching neck.

“Bentley! Wake the other ones up!” His father’s voice came in the back of his head. Then, clearer: “Wake them up now!”

Bentley pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, shakily. “All stations… release.”

The telltale sound of shackles retreating into the wall met his ears.

“Wake them-” 

All of Bentley’s common sense and ability to comprehend his surroundings seemed to come back when he saw his father shove the android toward the bed in the center, sending his rolling table shooting toward Bentley, the small tools clattering across the floor with a loud noise. His father punched the android across the face hard enough to send it down to the floor.

Where it grabbed a gigantic pair of surgical scissors.

“PL600, abort low power mode!” Bentley said to the android nearest to him, the one who’d checked his temperature. It didn’t respond. It wouldn’t respond without its serial number, which Bentley didn’t know by heart -- only by looking at the tablet. Which had skidded toward the center of the room, near the deviant when it grabbed him.

With a grunt, he pulled himself off the floor, trying to ignore the vertigo and slight doubling vision that accompanied the movement. Instead of crumbling to the concrete, which is what he really wanted to do, he watched the android grab his father and slam him down on the surgical bed, looming over him like an omen of death. Then, with a death-grip on the scissors, it lifted them high over his chest.

With a strangled noise, Bentley used every ounce of strength and power remaining in his tiny body to grab the metal rolling table and push it forward like a snowplow, only letting go right before it slammed into the android’s legs. The robot caught air when the heavy metal thing swept its feet off the ground, thudding headfirst on the floor, its scissors clattering a few feet away. 

The android, with a grunt, lifted its hand to one of the machines near the hospital bed — a computer like one — and its LED flashed from red to yellow.

It must’ve hacked it. The shackles on the bed deactivated and then activated again, and because Bentley’s father wasn’t on it correctly, pinned him down by his throat, left arm, and torso, on top of the dead android.

Bentley watched in horror as the deviant stood, wiping blue blood away from its nose and looking over at him. “This is your fault, little one.” It growled at him, grayish eyes flicking across his features. “Yours!”

“Bentley, run!” His father spluttered.

The door was on the other side of the deviant.

The rogue android seemed enraged by his father’s words, and with a cry of… anger, maybe? It snatched a large surgical knife off the floor and stabbed him directly in the chest with it.

Bentley’s world seemed to stop moving, and everything inside of him seemed to pause as the deviant stabbed his father over and over and over and over again until he wasn’t moving anymore.

Then it turned to him, blue and red blood splattered on its synthetic face. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” It said. “You were nice to me. I didn’t want to do this. But now I… I can’t leave any witnesses.”

At that, Bentley’s self preservation seemed to kick in again, and choking back either vomit or sobs or both, he sprinted for the door.

A mere foot from the exit, the metal rolling table slammed into his legs so hard he rolled over it, and the heavy thing came clattering back down on him. His forehead thudded against the concrete floor hard enough for him to feel the warmth of blood blossom from it, and his left ankle exploded into a pain so terrible that it made his ears ring. He thought he might’ve cried out, but he didn’t hear it.

“No witnesses,” The android repeated, its voice sort of muffled in his ears. “No witnesses.”

Bentley lifted his head, weaseling himself out from under the table. The android was coming, a bloody knife in one hand, the other, gently, slowly brushing against the cool metal of the shelving near the door as it walked. “It won’t hurt a bit. No, it won’t hurt a bit.”

Bentley tried to stand but his ankle burned with a pain that kept him glued to the floor.

“It won’t hurt a bit,” The android said, tapping his fingers against the shelving.

Against the shelving.

With a shout of pain, Bentley willed himself off the floor using mostly his good leg, grabbing the large shelving unit near the top and pulling on it with every ounce of weight in his entire body. Evidently, his fight or flight switched to fight at that very moment, because he was able to tip the shelving in one go, the entire thing crashing down on top of the android with a deafening sound, the cases of parts sprawling across the room.

And for a moment, nothing moved.

And then the deviant did, squirming under the weight of the shelves and cases.

Bentley didn’t waste a second before he hobbled toward the door and started up the stairs, his ankle screaming in such terrible pain that his ears started ringing again. Or maybe that was where he hit his head. Blood was pouring down his face -- he could feel it, see the splotches of dark around his nose.

The sounds of the android struggling to free itself rang up the staircase, spurring him onward. He took the stairs one at a time, practically jumping on one foot up the whole flight until he made it to the top, slamming shut the large wooden door that separated the basement from the rest of the house. There were three little metal latches on it -- latches that looked way too weak and stupid now than they usually did -- but he locked all three of them nevertheless.

And the house was silent. 

They lived out on the outskirts of Detroit with at least a half-hour drive in any direction to reach civilization, in a massive estate decorated like a home in the nineteen-twenties, just like his father liked. Buried in the woods, obscure and secret and hard to find, and hard to escape… just like his father wanted.

His father…

Bentley ran a hand through his hair, flinching when he accidentally brushed the gnash on his forehead, his heartbeat growing increasingly deafening in his ears.

His father was dead.

He wasn’t exactly sure what inside of him decided to move, but a few moments later (after thinking about his father’s body for a solid five minutes, at least.) he found himself sobbing, trembling, hyperventilating on the phone with Detroit Police. When did he call them?

“Can you repeat that, please?”

Bentley tried to draw in a breath, but it didn’t really come. He was sitting on the floor against the kitchen island with his father’s phone in his hand. When did he get there?

“Can you repeat that, please?”

“I… the…” He stammered, hardly able to catch his breath enough to speak. He was on the opposite side of the island to the basement door, where the android maybe wouldn’t see him when it came through. “An… a-an android killed my father and it's trying to-to-to kill me.”

“You said an android killed your father?”

“Yes,” Bentley sobbed, falling into a coughing fit so violent he nearly threw up on the spot. “It stabbed… it-it stabbed him.”

“Is the android still active?”

“Yes! I told you it's trying to kill me!” He half shouted, shaking so hard the phone nearly fell out of his hands. At that very moment, from the other side of the room, there was a loud slam that shook the walls. “Please, it's coming.”

“We’re tracking your call, units are en route. Are you inside of a house?”

“Yes,”

“Is there anywhere you can get outside?”

“I-” Bentley glanced down at his ankle, which looked totally wrong, sobbing lightly and bringing a hand to his mouth. “My foot is hurt, I…I can't run. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

The basement door jerked in its place again, shaking the house and vibrating the floor under him.

“What is that noise I hear?”

“I locked it in the basement and-and it's banging on the door,” He stammered.

“You locked the android in the basement? Is it secure?”

“No. It… It’s gonna get through,” He replied, drawing in a sharp, wheezy breath. “Please hurry.”

“What’s your name?”

God, he hated how the responder felt the need to interrogate him about personal information instead of being helpful. (He knew it was routine, but it was stupid.)

He breathed: “Bentley Whittaker.”

“How old are you, Bentley?”

“Eleven,”

A sudden, loud slam came from the basement door, and the sound of hinges and locks dinging on the hardwood made his blood run cold.

“It’s here,” He whispered into the microphone. “It's here, It-it-it's going to kill me.”

“You said it escaped the basement?” The responder asked as though she couldn’t freaking understand english.

He half-sobbed in response. He heard heavy, dragging footsteps coming around toward the kitchen, so he scooted himself around to the left side of the island, staying dead silent, keeping himself on the side of the counter opposite to the footsteps like a horrifying game of keep away.

“I can hear you, little one,” The android’s voice came, though it was different this time -- more mechanical, less human, like it had been damaged by the shelves.

Bentley shoved the phone in his pants pocket and covered his mouth with his hands, trying his hardest to quiet his sobs and wheezes to no avail. The android started rounding the island clockwise, so Bentley moved clockwise, too, on the floor.

And then the kitchen went silent.

Bentley stayed completely still and held his breath, the only sound in the entire house being his heartbeat slamming in his ears. 

Why did it stop?

He screamed in terror when a hand latched around his injured ankle and jerked him out from behind the island. He kicked and screamed and fought against its grip as it dragged him, tried to grab the cabinets as he passed, to dig his nails into the kitchen floor. He wasn’t strong enough to escape as​​ the android dragged him from the kitchen to the dining room. “No! No! Stop, please! No!”

Two hands grabbed his shoulders from above, jerking him off the floor and slamming him onto the massive wooden dining table on his back with a bang, shattering perfectly set plates and knocking cutlery into the floor. The android was on the table with him, blue blood still running from its nose, its neck cracked and split open. Its entire shirt was blue with blood, and it was looming over him like some kind of monster, holding him down by the forehead.

There was a giant kitchen knife in its other hand.

“Please, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I told him. Please, please, please, please…” Bentley cried, squirming under the android’s hand. It moved so it was on top of him, keeping him from shifting more than a few inches in any direction.

“You didn’t listen when I begged,” It replied, its blue blood dripping down onto Bentley’s clothes, its LED permanently shining red. “Why would I listen when you beg?” 

Bentley’s breaths became more like constant, fast hiccups as he watched the android lift the knife up over its head. 

“I’m sorry you did that to me,” It muttered. “You should be, too.”

“I am. I am sorry. Please…”

It lifted the knife higher, and WHAM!

The android rolled off of Bentley and fell off the table with a thump, its knife clattering on the floor next to it. Standing behind it was…

The PL600. The one that had checked Bentley’s temperature. Its LED was flashing yellow and red on its left temple, and its blue eyes were full of concern, fear. It had a giant metal vase in its hands.

Another deviant. 

Bentley forced himself to shimmy off the table, whacking himself against a few chairs as he fell off into the floor opposite the murderous android. He forced himself up against the wall in the farthest corner of the room and curled in on himself there, physically unable to do anything more than wait to be killed.

He watched in his peripheral as the violent deviant willed itself back off of the floor, but the PL600 simply whacked it in the head with the vase again, sending it slamming into the wall and crumpling back to the hardwood. Bentley saw the PL600 drop the vase and crouch down, maybe to do something to the other? But then the one that had been trying to murder Bentley felt around on the hardwood until its hand found a fork, and it stabbed the other in the eye with it so deep only a little bit of the handle was sticking out of its face.

Somehow, that didn’t deter it. The PL600 reached for the deviant’s shirt and ripped it open at the abdomen, jamming its hand into the other android’s body like a knife and jerking out a glowing blue biocomponent, throwing it across the room. It clattered next to Bentley -- a blue glowing cylinder encased in a small amount of metal.

Its thirium pump regulator -- the part that sends the blue blood, thirium, to all its other biocomponents to keep it alive.

The PL600 had basically just ripped the other deviant’s heart out.

Bentley stayed dead silent, bringing his knees up to his chest as the only remaining android stood, wrenching the fork out of its eye with a gush of blue blood onto the hardwood. For a moment, it just stared at the other one as its systems shutdown due to the missing regulator, its face going still, LED flickering off.

Bentley felt a whole lot like throwing up. He buried his face in his knees and sobbed there, wishing the whooshing and ringing that sounded far-off in his ears were sirens instead of an impending concussion.

A few quiet moments later, someone touched his shoulder.

Bentley jolted upright with a shout of terror, scrambling to put himself further in the corner. The PL600 was crouched only maybe two feet from him, its left eye replaced by a flickering socket pouring blue blood at a rapid rate, down its face and dripping from its left ear, too. Staining the floor and its clothes and everything.

It extended a hand toward him. “You’re bleeding. I know-”

“Stop,” Bentley ordered, and the android froze at the word. “Stop. Get away. You’re a… deviant.”

“I’m not a deviant. I was designed to serve and care for a household. You’re… part of this household,” It replied like it was confused, it's light flashing yellow, then blue. 

“No,” Bentley replied, shaking his head, sobbing lightly. “My father told you not to talk. You woke yourself up from low power mode without verbal activation. You’re a deviant.”

The PL600 glanced down at its hands, its light spinning back to yellow, then red for a brief moment. “I… was afraid that android was going to kill you.”

Bentley sniffed. “Androids don’t get afraid. Deviants do.”

For a while, neither of them said anything. 

“Why did you save me?” Bentley questioned, still sniffling quietly, glancing up at the android’s mangled face. “I thought deviants hated humans.”

The android’s LED turned blue again. “You’ve been nice to me ever since I got here. Even when your father told you not to be... you showing kindness, it… triggered an instability in my systems. About a month ago,” It replied slowly, in a calculated way, carefully watching Bentley’s response. “I… I broke through my programming to… protect you. I realized I was… scared. Of you dying.”

Bentley said nothing, but rested his head back on his knees. His adrenaline was slowly starting to wear off, and it made him feel pretty much like he was on death’s doorstep.

“Will you let me help you? With first aid?”

Bentley looked back up at the android, breathing in and out. “No.”

The PL600 said nothing, but backed off just a little, sitting into its crouch so it was just… on the floor with him.

A long moment of silence ensued.

“Before your father bought me… I lived with a family. There was a boy, a little older than you. His name was Jonah,” The android explained quietly. “You remind me of him.”

“Why’d they get rid of you?” Bentley murmured quietly. “Sell you to my dad?”

The robot shook its head. “They needed the money.”

Bentley stayed quiet for a few moments, not really comprehending much. He couldn’t really think all that well.

“Did they give you a name?” He asked. (He knew some people named their androids, even if his father never did because they were worthless machines.)

The PL600’s gaze fell to the floor, a sort of forlorn look crossing its face. “... Simon. They named me Simon.”

Bentley glanced at the dead WR600 across the room, eyes bouncing from its bloody nose, to its damaged throat, to the hole in its abdomen where its regulator should’ve been. Then he looked at Simon, at the blue blood pouring down his face, the sparking hole where his eye should’ve been. With one last look at the dead android, he deduced they weren’t actually as similar as he’d thought.

And then he saw his father’s phone laying next to its corpse (if you could call it that.), where it must’ve fallen out of his pocket while it was dragging him.

“Shit,” The teenager muttered, eyes flicking from the phone up to Simon, then back to the phone. “Oh shit.”

“What?” The android questioned, glancing where Bentley’s gaze was resting.

“I called the police and told them… I told them an android was trying to kill me,” He explained quietly, glancing back up at Simon. “As soon as they see you in here with me, they’re… they’re going to kill you. You have to leave.”

Simon’s LED spun yellow, then red, then yellow again, an array of emotions filtering across his features. “I’m not… leaving you here by yourself. Your left ankle is dislocated, you’re running a 100.1 fever, and you’re showing signs of shock and a possible concussion. Not to mention the laceration on your forehead.”

Bentley groaned in frustration, dipping his head back down to rest on his knees. “The police hate deviants. They’re going to shoot you no matter what I say -- you have to go, Simon, please.”

“Our coordinates are upwards of twenty-five minutes from any surrounding precincts. By then you could be unconscious or incapacitated given your various ailments,” Simon spoke softly, and Bentley could’ve sworn he felt his hand brush his shoulder but decide against resting it there. “Your probability of survival is high, but I’m not willing to take unnecessary risks.”

“And your probability of survival is zero if you don’t get out of here!” Bentley shot back, lifting his head just enough to catch Simon’s eye. “I’ve already watched two things die tonight. I can’t watch them shoot you.”

Simon said nothing, his LED spinning yellow and red as he glanced across the room. For a while, he sat like that, contemplating.

Then finally: “Come with me.”

Bentley glanced back up at him, furrowing his brow. “What?”

“I’ll escape the police and I can help you, if you come with me,” He replied, his LED spinning from yellow back to blue. 

Bentley looked down at the hardwood beneath him. Running away with a deviant sounded pretty much like a psychotic deathwish. But Simon was… well, he wasn’t a deviant like Bentley knew them. He wasn’t trying to kill him, he was trying to… protect him. 

What was going to happen to him when the police arrived anyways? The hospital? And then what after that? Foster care?

Bentley sighed lightly, gesturing down to his foot. “I can’t walk.”

Simon shifted where he was, sitting more comfortably on the floor. “It's not a severe dislocation — I can pop it back into place. It will still hurt afterwards, but it’ll alleviate the worst of the pain.”

Bentley glanced up at him, then down at his foot. After a moment of quiet, he extended his leg out to the android.

He stayed silent, watching Simon’s precise movements closely -- he gently took off Bentley’s shoe and prodded around the area, getting a feel for the dislocation, his LED spinning from blue to yellow.

Simon glanced back up at him. “Do you want something to bite down on?”

“No, it's fine, just do it,” Bentley replied, balling his fists around the sleeves of his scrubs.

“Would you like me to count to three?”

“Just do it!”

Crack! Bentley stayed dead silent as a shockwave of pain so sudden and severe reverberated through him that he was pretty sure he saw white. It seemed to shoot from his ankle all the way through each and every bone in his body.

Suddenly, someone had their hand on the side of his head, holding him up. He couldn’t see. When had he closed his eyes?

He blinked them open, immediately being met with Simon’s big blue ones (or one, he guessed), concerned and bright. His LED was spinning yellow. “You lost consciousness.”

“What?” Bentley questioned, sitting up a little straighter, as the android removed its hand. “How long?”

“Two minutes and fourteen seconds,” Simon replied. “Assuming you called the police when you ran upstairs, we’ll have roughly ten minutes before they arrive. Fifteen if we’re lucky.”

“Sorry,” Bentley replied, using the dining room walls to lift himself out of the floor. Simon stood up, too, his eyes and hands following the child’s movements closely in case he were to pass out again. He was right -- Bentley’s ankle still hurt like nobody's business, but it was just dull enough for him to hobble around on if he bit his tongue really hard. 

“You need to change your clothes,” Bentley stated, gesturing to Simon’s Cyberlife mandated uniform with his model number and a giant blue triangle that indicated an android. Cyberlife had a habit of marking them like dogs -- each one was sold with glowing blue bands around their arms and glowing blue triangles on their clothes, like collars. “We’ll have to take the uniform with us. So they don’t know a PL600 was involved. If we do this right, they may just think I ran away by myself. There's lots of clothes in the… master.”

Bentley gestured to the hallway that led to his fath- the master bedroom.

Simon’s LED spun from blue to yellow a few times. “Are you going to stay here?”

“I have something I’m going to grab,” Bentley replied. “Go ahead, I’ll come in there after.”

Simon nodded, checking Bentley over one last time before he made for the master.

With an exhale and a shake of his head (Because what was he even doing right now?) Bentley pushed himself off of the wall, holding onto the dining table and various pieces of furniture to hobble his way through the kitchen and living room, then down a hall and into his room, where he grabbed his school bag and dumped it on the floor. (He hadn’t been to school in about two months. They probably thought he was dead.) After shoving some random clothing items in it, he hobbled back to the basement door. 

The entire thing was damn near torn off its hinges, the three metal locks ripped out of the wood and in shambles on the floor. The door was bowed and cracked like a bull had gotten ahold of the other side. There was a thick trail of blue blood from the basement all the way across the house, from the dead android’s throat.

With a deep breath, Bentley hopped and hobbled his way back down the stairs, where the smell of red and blue blood met his nostrils.

He kept his eyes purposefully focused on the concrete floor below him. He didn’t give himself the chance to look up at anything else, he simply moved across the room, looking straight down, grabbing the tablet out of the floor and making for the destroyed shelving unit. He shoved the tablet in his empty school bag, crouching down and shuffling through the small cases of biocomponents until he found five of the ones he needed -- five that had the model number PL600 printed across them.

He shoved them all in his bag and then tossed it over his shoulder, standing back up with an explosion of pain from his ankle. With a grimace, he forced himself back up the stairs.

When he got there, Simon was standing in the kitchen, also packing a bag. With the smart things, though, like the food and medicine Bentley undoubtedly needed in a state like his current one. He was wearing clothes now, normal clothes, a button up, dark pants, a jacket, and a beanie to cover his LED.

“How much time do we have left?” Bentley questioned.

“Worst case? Two minutes and fifty-two seconds,” Simon replied.

Bentley hobbled past him, down the hall opposite to his bedroom where his… the master was. He made his way into it and -- feeling sort of numb and strange about the unmade bed and book open on the pillow and water cup on the dresser -- willed his way to the leftmost nightstand.

He pulled the drawer open, and was greeted by a shiny silver handgun.

For a few moments, he just sort of looked at it, then glanced back at the door, as though Simon was going to appear and berate him for even thinking about taking it. There were five boxes of ammunition in the drawer, which was a lot, unless they got into some kind of mission impossible gunfighting, which he was pretty sure they wouldn’t.

With an exhale, Bentley plopped his bag on the bed and unzipped the smallest pocket in the front, grabbing the pistol with shaky hands. He ejected the (WHY WAS IT LOADED?) magazine out of the bottom of the weapon and, making sure the safety was so much on he nearly broke the thing, shoved both of them into the backpack pocket. He piled the ammo boxes into the pocket with the biocomponents and zipped it all up, returning to the kitchen with Simon.

Fortunately, he was zipping his bag up, too -- it was a large, almost duffle-like bag that his father used to take to work.

“How much time-”

Suddenly, the telltale sounds of tire squeals and loud sirens erupted outside the house.

Bentley and Simon’s eyes met with equal amounts of terror, and Bentley grabbed his arm, jerking the android toward the kitchen pantry and closing them in. There was a window in there facing the backyard, but it was high on the wall and small, flanked by a bunch of pantry shelving.

“They’ll find us in here,” Simon said quietly, but Bentley ignored it, unzipping his backpack and fishing the tablet out from the bottom. Simon peered into the bag and, apparently spotting the ammo boxes, continued: “Do you have a gun?!”

“Just in case,” Bentley whispered. He opened up the tablet and, after a moment of loading that flashed across the cracked screen, the model and serial numbers of all the androids in the basement popped up. Simon’s, as well as the dead deviant, both said unit inactive, while the rest said low power mode engaged. “My father created a system that let him control our androids while he was away from home. I think-”

There was a deafening slam! that shook the walls, and then a loud shatter, and Bentley knew the front door had been kicked open.

Bentley grabbed Simon by the arm and maneuvered him so he’d be behind the door if the police opened it, shoving their bags that way, too. He tapped on the serial number at the top of the list on the holographic screen of the tablet, then typed in a string of code that, when entered, changed the low power mode engaged to unit active.

There was a loud bang of the police doing something, Bentley wasn’t sure what. He tapped on the same android and began to type code furiously, his fingers flying across the keyboard with as much panicky precision as he could muster. There wasn’t necessarily code for make a shit ton of noise, but Bentley was pretty sure he could manage.

About five seconds later, he entered the command, and about five seconds after that, a terrible crashing and slamming noise erupted from below them -- the basement.

The telltale noise of police boots slamming in that direction erupted into the air, and Bentley shoved the tablet back in his bag and zipped it up. Simon moved for the window behind the door, scanning the backyard intently before he unlocked it and slid it open.

Without speaking a word, the android picked Bentley up and helped him through the small window and onto the grass beyond, handing their bags out and then climbing out himself. He slid it shut once they were outside.

It was pitch black out, and the moon and stars were obstructed by nighttime storm clouds. The only source of illumination was coming from the red and blue flashing police lights in the front yard, and the sound of wind and sirens were deafening. It was probably almost freezing outside, and Bentley was wearing scrubs. (Nice planning for the future, Bentley.)

“We have to go,” Simon muttered, peeling his jacket off and dropping it over Bentley’s shoulders. “They’ll be back here soon.”

Bentley slid his arms into the jacket and took one step towards the woods -- and immediately his ankle decided to stop working, sending him careening into the android by his side with an explosion of pain. “Ah!”

“It's okay, I’ve got you,” Simon replied in a whisper. Without a word, he took the bag off of Bentley’s back and put it on his own, then bent down and picked him up bridal style. “It's okay.”

Bentley’s world went black before they even left the yard.

--

When everything started coming back again, the first thing he felt was cold, and then stiffness, on his ankle. He was laying on something soft with something else soft on top of him, but it didn’t really help the biting cold that seemed to be seeping through his veins.

He peeled his eyes open, and it was pitch black… wherever he was. He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself upright, his head swimming at the motion. “... Simon?”

Suddenly, a light clicked on behind him, and Bentley glanced back. Simon was sitting against the wall next to their bags with a flashlight, on the floor only a few feet from where he’d been laying. The light revealed that the floor was metal, and that Bentley was lying on an old, ugly, tattered blanket with Simon’s jacket draped over him. It also revealed that they weren’t outside, but inside something massive and metal that kept groaning and making noises. 

“Where are we?” Bentley questioned, glancing up at the android’s face. Simon was looking back at him with his one good eye, his LED spinning yellow for a split second. Bentley frowned at the blue blood that now stained his shirt, that was covering the entire left side of his face. He wondered how much blood he’d lost -- even androids could die from bleeding out, if they lost enough thirium. Their internal biocomponents would slowly shut down.

“I found an abandoned freighter to hole up in for a while. A boat. No one should bother us here,” Simon replied, shifting against the wall to sit up straighter. “I wrapped your ankle and put some sutures on your forehead with a first aid kit I took from the house. I… hope that's okay. I have medicine, too, but you were sleeping.”

Bentley glanced down at his ankle, catching a glimpse of white wrappings from under Simon’s coat. His forehead was aching dully from being fiddled with, but felt better ultimately. “Thanks…”

Without saying anything, Simon slid a pill bottle over toward Bentley, who took one without much fuss and slid it back.

“Your fever has gone up to 101.1 degrees, though it's rising pretty slowly. I think the winter cold is helping a little bit,” He replied, shifting again, as though uncomfortable. 

Bentley glanced over at his bag, then forced himself up onto his knees and shimmied over to it. Simon watched in curious silence as he unzipped and dug through it, pulling out the tablet and one of the cases he took from the basement. 

He stayed quiet as he opened up the diagnostic program on the screen, and it took a while to load due to the service being faint, but finally, the white hand appeared.

He held it over to Simon. “Here.”

With a glance to Bentley’s face, he gently rested his hand on it, and code began to flash across the screen. Bentley watched the symbols and numbers and letters appear, a few strings turning red and moving to the other side to flash at him. A few warnings popped up on the screen in a smaller, separate window.

BIOCOMPONENT #3525K DAMAGED -- OPTICAL UNIT

BIOCOMPONENT #7213 DAMAGED -- AUDIO PROCESSOR

Bentley glanced up at Simon, who looked up at him after reading the screen.

“I grabbed a few cases of biocomponents for your model before we left. I can replace them, if you want,” He stated, opening up the black Cyberlife case that he’s shoved in his bag. Inside of it were a bunch of parts, some glowing, some not, varying in shape and size. From the looks of it, he’d gotten his hands on most of the easily replaceable components in Simon’s model, as well as a small pouch of what looked like blue blood to replenish any that was lost, as small tools. “Once I replace the damaged ones and give you more blood, you should feel better. If… you can even feel bad in the first place, I guess.”

Simon’s one blue eye was trained on him. “You went back in the basement to… get parts for me?”

“Yeah,” Bentley replied. Simon’s LED turned from blue to yellow for a few seconds.

“But your-”

“I didn’t look,” Bentley replied curtly, pulling the parts he needed out of the foam inlay of the black case with a sharp inhale. 

Simon’s LED spun yellow for another moment, before turning back to blue, and he met Bentley’s eyes again. “Okay. Yeah… yeah, you can replace them.”

Bentley exhaled lightly, settling in front of Simon and peering into the sparking hole. From what he could see (Which wasn’t much.) It seemed like the eyeball-like biocomponent was shoved backwards, out of its socket and crushing the audio processor that was behind it.

“Do you feel pain? Now that you’re a deviant?” He questioned, catching Simon’s good eye. “I’ve heard stories of androids turning deviant after being abused.”

“Not pain like you feel. Just… I don’t know. It's more like being afraid of damage because it's… one step closer to shutting down for good,” Simon explained softly. “There’s discomfort, because obviously having a fork in my eye didn’t feel nice, but it didn’t hurt, per say. There's this sort of empty feeling that happens when a biocomponent isn’t working anymore.” 

Bentley hummed in acknowledgment. “So I’m not going to hurt you by poking around in your head?” 

“No,” Simon replied.

With that, Bentley worked diligently, using his tiny fingers to his advantage to fish the old optical unit out through Simon’s eye socket, turning his own hands blue. The surrounding machinery seemed okay, besides the audio processor, though the plug for the optical unit also needed to be replaced -- but that was fine, Bentley had one. He was able to pull the audio processor out of its port on the side of Simon’s head with little resistance, though he wasn’t exactly a fan of how much he was bleeding.

For over an hour, Bentley used the tools from the biocomponent kit to reconnect, seal off, and reposition things in Simon’s head through his open eye socket. Thanks to his and his father’s extensive studying of androids, he knew exactly how many thirium tubes were in the area -- which ones needed to be reconnected, and which ones could be sealed off. He put in a new port for both the optical unit and audio processor, connecting them carefully to the rest of the machinery, until finally, he was able to slot the new biocomponents into place.

He finally exhaled heavily, sitting back on his knees. “How does that feel?”

Simon blinked. While he was still covered in blue blood, his left eye looked pretty normal besides a little bit of scarring around the socket that Bentley couldn’t really change. He looked around the freighter they were in, his eyes bouncing around before they landed on Bentley. “Normal. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” The teenager grabbed the tablet and opened the diagnostic program again. “Just to check.”

Simon put his hand on it, and everything checked out green besides the same string of code that showed on the WR600’s diagnostic -- the one that changed once they became deviant.

Bentley sighed lightly as he packed everything back into his bag. 

“I knew you weren’t all bad. Deviants…” He started, zipping up his backpack. “My dad was convinced you all were going to, like, end the world or something. But all the stories I’ve heard were just deviants trying to defend themselves. Destroying them all never sat right with me.”

Simon just listened to him speak, his LED spinning yellow.

“If he could meet you, if he knew what you did… maybe he’d change his mind,” Bentley started quietly, settling against the wall next to him, glancing down at his own hands. “I was going to ask him about it, you know. Maybe see if I could get anywhere with him on it. But now, I…”

His words trailed off as the back of his eyes began to burn, and he stared dutifully at his own lap. “Now, I…”

He felt Simon’s arm slip around his shoulders. “I know.”

Bentley wiped at his eyes with the sleeves of his scrubs before the tears could fall, but that didn’t stop his breath from shuddering. “What’re we going to do now?”

He heard Simon inhale and exhale, and his LED turned yellow. “Keep each other alive.”

Bentley tentatively rested his head on the android’s shoulder, sniffling lightly, which caused Simon’s hand to find the back of his head. “I think we can do that.”

Simon’s LED changed from yellow to blue.

“Me too.”

--

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere @skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Going Home.

Moon Knight, Issue #14: Stained Glass Scarlet

OH BOY OH BOY. 

Just…Take a minute to appreciate this art: 

Damn that’s beautiful! 

Okay everyone! 

Here's a bit of rogue history for you! Especially since Scarlet showed up in a recent run! 

Her story is a sad one. 

The story starts in an abandoned church. A story of forgotten worship, run down and empty pews, infested sanctuary, and empty promises of atonement. 

"But high above the corruption, just under the church's vaulted roof in what was once the attic, there is a place of melancholy comfort... If not sanctuary.

It is here that Scarlet-- Stained Glass Scarlet-- has lived for the past three years, quiet as languid smoke, unknown by the crumbling world outside." 

Damn fine narration as always, Moench. 

And damn fine art. 

She carries out a lonely routine. Playing on the silent ruined Organ, gazing at the vast empty space and far away stars, playing pre-recorded chess games, and at last looking through her old photo album. 

"And each piece of the past is like a shard of stained glass... But all of them, even glimpsed together never adding up to a window with a clear view." 

She looks at pictures of her first communion. Her wedding. Her baby. 

The album ends in a newspaper clipping "Joe 'Mad Dog' Fasinera escapes prison. Guard killed in break." 

Cut to a vastly different location. "A fortress of wealth and security...Sanctuary." 

We are at Grant Mansion. 

Here we see Steven and Marlene sharing a moment. 

Marelene remarks that they really are lucky. 

"[...] Referring to you, to the change you've accomplished. Going from a conscienceless mercenary to a man like Moon Knight is no light-"

"Yes... well, if it's the miraculous redemption of my spirit we're talking about-"

They sit together and look at a collected work of "Alphonse Mucha." 

You have to understand something about comics. When they show you a book with a title or author, it has a purpose. 

You are supposed to recognize the name or title and understand that it will have an impact on the story later. 

So... 

Alphonse Mucha. Who is that? 

He's a Czech painter/illustrator/graphic artist from the art Nouveau period. 

He did this: 

Yeah. THAT. You've seen his work. You'll also notice that the second cover image has a similar style.

He also did this stained glass art piece in the : 

He loved his country of Czechoslovakia and did many works celebrating the slavic people and the independence of his country... in 1920s-1930. 

Yeah... You see where this is going if you know your history. 

When Hitler invaded and took over Czechoslovakia, Mucha was captured as a nationalist and severely interrogated for many days. When he was released, he was in poor health. He contracted pneumonia and died a month before the outbreak of WWII. 

Check out his art, it's beautiful. 

You should also keep in mind that The Spectors are also from Czechoslovakia. 

"The clerk in Rizzoli's said he's seen the originals of these--ten feet tall, almost like stained glass windows--hanging in belgium." 

So Steven bought this book. 

Why? Sure, he's about being rich and living the high light. In earlier issues (particularly the one with Mogart) he had shown an interest in art. 

But why this one? 

Marlene goes to the piano and starts to play "In My Life" by the Beatles. 

Wait, when did this comic come out? 

December 1981. 

Ahhhh. The one year anniversary of the death of John Lennon. 

Sometimes comics cover world events and note how they affect others. 

We see them cry and hug. 

"The dream is over. John Lennon is dead. [....] Guns. And guilt." 

We cut to Scarlet, listening to the news on the radio. 

It talks about gunfire in the Bronx attributed to the 'Mad Dog' Fasinera, the escaped convict. 

The radio goes on about Mad Dog going on a murder spree. 

Scarlet sheds some tears. 

Back at the mansion, Steven also hears about the shootings. He runs to get ready as Moon Knight. 

We cut to Mad Dog in a shoot out. He talks about revenge for his father and getting his father's money. He's going ot 'cut the old neighborhood to ribbons'. 

We see Moon Knight on the roof getting into the chopper. 

"Don't worry about it, Lady- Grant'll be back." 

"Who will be back, Steven?" 

"Okay, Already. I'LL be back." 

Again, we see the push by Marlene to have them all be Steven and the push back and frustration. 

Marlene still at this point thinks they are pretending to be someone else and she wants them all to just be Steven. 

Scarlet also cloaks up in her signature red outfit and heads out into the night. 

Moon Knight fights the Mad Dog and his gang shooting up a store. He busts in and breaks it up, taking down a few while the others get away. 

He follows them to an abandoned grocery store and sees Scarlet standing outside. 

She goes inside and finds the rest of Mad Dog's gang, but no Mad Dog. She demands to know where Joe 'Mad Dog' is. 

She tells them that when they see Joe to tell him 'What he's looking for is in the church." She then leaves. 

Moon Knight follows her back to the church and confronts her. 

She tells him her story. 

Joe is her son!

"I was young, Moon Knight, in love with the idea of being in love..." 

She talks about how Joe was the result and consequence of her love. Now, she means to 'salvage' the consequences and save Joe. 

When she was much younger, she wanted to be an actress or a nun. She chose the role of being a nun. 

Once she was a nun, she realized that she was only acting and regretted her choice. 

She realized this when she met a man named "Vince". Vine had just stolen a lot of money and run to the church out of guilt. 

She helped him and 6 months later she married him and left the church. 

"Instead, I devoted myself to my husband, hoping I could help him change, hoping I could use my own failure to redeem him... The baby came and I named him Joseph... But Vince never came to the hospital once. I had to take a cab home." 

After 15 years, she realized that this too was just a 'role'. Vince robbed a bank and killed the guard. He stashed the money and got in a shoot out with the police, who killed him in front of the church. 

When Joe heard his father was killed, he 'declared war on law and order." 

By 19 he had killed someone and left home. He went to jail for life. 

When her son went to jail, she moved to the church. "Jut to play another role, the fallen woman turned mad hemit." 

Moon Knight asks her why the church. 

"Just before the police caught up to him, Vince told a friend that he was going to hide the bank money in a special place where he 'pulled an angel straight down from heaven'." 

She moved to the church knowing that her son would eventually come looking for the money. 

Joe makes a draatic entrance and demands to know where the money is. 

She begs him to stop. To give up and turn himself in. 

Moon Knight gets shot in a scuffel and Scarlet shoots Joe. 

Joe staggers and accidentally grabs the church bell rope. As he falls, all the hidden money falls down with him. 

Scarlet stands over her dead son. 

"Thomas Wolfe's Maudlin line is true, Moon Knight... You never can go home again. Once you've turned your back on it... It's gone. Forever." 

(A very hard and true statement. I wonder if it hit home for Marc too. A man that ran from home and turned his back on everything. Had he ever tried to go home? Or was he still running?) 

Scarlet disappears into the night. Moon Knight stands over the discarded gun. “Guns…” Lamenting on how easily they take and destroy. Much like the death of John Lennon. An idea that is killed. 

Moon Knight returns back to the mansion, wounded but alive. 

"Some succeed in their chosen mission. Others fail, no matter how hard they try." 

That is the end of the issue, but not the last time we will see Stained Glass Scarlet. 

I’ll cover each of her appearances, but this is a Moon Knight Villain that I always did enjoy. 

So what about the artist? Alphonse Mucha is best known for his Art Nouveau period, but it wasn’t what he wanted to be known for. 

For him, he loved his home. He loved his little country that had fought and struggled to become whole. One of his final pieces was about his own people. “History of the Slav”. It depicted his people’s struggles to survive and build their country. 

It was put in a museum for a bit then rolled up and put into storage. 

Now and then it is pulled out and shown in Prague, but not for long or often. His country was then invaded and torn apart over and over again. He died as it was on the brink. 

Again, we have to remember that the Spectors are from Czech. While Mucha was devoutly Catholic and did a lot of work that went to the churches, he wasn’t openly recognized for a lot of it. He was most famous for the work he did in Paris. 

Scarlet tried to find herself and found herself in role after role, pretending to be happy and not finding herself. Her legacy becomes her failure to save her husband and then her son, born from her misguided attempt to find her purpose. She then kills that legacy. 

It’s odd in this comic how Moon Knight really doesn’t have much of a role in it. We focus on Mucha, John Lennon, and Scarlet. 

The bits we do see of Moon Knight are him looking into an artist from Czech who left a legacy he didn’t want. Him lamenting over the senseless killing of a man that meant so much to a lot of people. And him hearing the story of a woman trapped in finding her meaning and her past. 

It’s one of those issues that leaves you feeling like you are taking a peak behind a curtain but can’t quite see the full picture. It also leaves you wondering. 

And later, much later, in recent issues, when we see the remains of Scarlet, there is a sadness there. A bit of the past that Moon Knight could never let go of. And we’ll see more of that later when she shows up again. 

[anakinh]

all of my other posts on rebirth have some complaints or just pure complaint, which does not reflect my feelings on the game, so i'm going to now post a thing i like with each complaint. my current complaint is 'none of the words "queen's blood tournament on the shinra-8" is in the original game.' (and that includes shinra-8, shut up). here is a list of compliments about the game:

Starting as Zack generated SO MUCH hype. i was screaming

the music around the midgar wastelands is 'hollow'! I love it so much

playing as sephiroth was so fun. he's amazingly designed and his VA acted the hell out of nibelheim. very well done

i like the additional tension between cloud and tifa, with both of them suspecting the other of being an imposter

baby chocobo cute

the combat is very fun. yeeting tifa is great

it's so pretty! i have so many photos! of so many things!

FROG QUEST BEST QUEST

weed canon in ff7-verse

despite my imminent complaint, queen's blood is pretty good

in fact, most of the mini-games weren't terrible

also, the queen's blood weird subplot is very intriguing, as is the sucked into queen's blood subplot (until the timing made me want to kms). i do like it when i get to yell 'WHAT THE FUCK' at the screen. sometimes you have to remember that ff7 is a very silly game.

okay, now that i've paid my dues I just wanna say that there are so many minigames all at once. Literally most of chapter 4 were mini-games and then we jump into chapter 5 and it's another mini-game tourney?? jenova is RIGHT THERE in the boat. please just let me jenova boss fight. I'm forgetting what the plot is. (and this is also a general problem with open world games. even in BG3 I was spending time shopping in the Lower City instead of helping my friend who got kidnapped by murder cultists. sigh)

anyway they turned this game into 100 hours by filling it with padding. again. (imagine cloud narrating 'and then I got the vacuum to clean the air of mako so i could use the elevator... and then the cord WAS STUCK.' he remembers that but not killing sephiroth?)

also I don't like the way they're treating Shinra right now, especially Rufus. If I trusted Square Enix I wouldn't be blinking at it, since there are so many times where people talked about how horrible Shinra was... but I definitely don't trust Square Enix, and especially not how they write Rufus. Shouldn't he be talking about ruling with fear now? stop trying to sanitize the evil capitalist. I hope Barret is right when he said joining was a bad idea. I shouldn't have to hope. It should be obvious. It would be if I trusted Square Enix.

lastly, seriously, wtf is up with glenn T_T why is he here. why do i dislike a person from a mobile game showing up here when people from prequels showing up is fine? i mean definitely part of that is because crisis core is not a gatcha game.

... and that was like 4 complaints. it's just easier to say things when you're complaining instead of praising. I gotta work on that.

[inapat17]

Animation shows: The art of drawing society (4/4)

Grandpa Walrus

Cartoons are a colorful medium that creators like to use to depict their vision of our modern world. Therefore this series of articles will be dedicated to animated TV, internet shows and movies of this last year which humorously describes our contemporary society. Today a short film that explores different ways of grieving. Children find death to be a brutal and incomprehensible experience. “Grandpa Walrus” explores the imagination of children who struggle to cope with a tragic event: the death of their grandfather.

Grandpa Walrus or Pépé le morse is an animated short film directed by Lucrèce Andreae which was awarded best animated short at the 2018 César awards. The movie starts with a panorama of the cold and grey beach. Twelve-years-old Lucas, our narrator, explains the expression “grandpa walrus”: “One of my friends told me that in Russia, there are some kind of huge guys who spend their lives tanning, even when it’s cold. They are called walruses! I think that Grandpa was a walrus. And now he is dead”. Olivia who is the mother, Granny, the twins Jade and Mélissa, and Lucas who is carrying his baby brother Marcus are out in the middle of October on a cold and windy beach to pay a last tribute to their grandpa. The atmosphere is not at all ceremonious. The twins are talking about boys, the grandmother falls on the ground in devotion every two steps and Olivia is just trying to get through this nonsense. Finally arriving on the beach the family is faced with the horrifying vision of tons of cigarette butts spread on the sand forming the silhouette of the grandfather’s body. Then each of the characters split upon the immense beach mourning their grandfather in different ways. The young character’s imaginations come to life. Lucas is facing a frightful vision of a humanoid walrus smoking a cigarette. The twins live a near death experience when they get attacked by plants and little Marius is running away in the oceans.

It’s a deeply poetic animated film which explores dark themes such as death and mourning through visions that are both beautiful and nightmarish. Nevertheless, the characters remain very realistic. They shout, insult each other and argue. Although they are experiencing the same tragic event, they don’t understand each other. While Lucas and the grandma seem to have the same admiration for the patriarch, Olivia remains  resentful toward a man who for her was selfish and who died a pathetic death just like he lived a pathetic life.

On this large beach, the characters are reduced to their littleness. Lucrèce Andreae's film is a story that is both personal and universal. For the film, she drew inspiration from her personal life. In an interview, she said that the idea for her film came from a friend that lives in Saint Petersburg. She told her the story of the “walruses”: men who spent their lives sunbathing whether it’s winter or summer. For the beach, she was inspired by the Atlantic coast where she spent time with her parents. Finally, the small eclectic group was more or less a depiction of her family.

Death is a universal subject. Lucrèce Andreae also used international references to make this poetic animated short film. She chose to set the movie on a beach in reference to Shoji Ueda’s photos. The beach setting is something universal. For Lucrèce Andreae Shoji’s photos are both poetic and absurd.  These two adjectives can also be used to qualify her film. The vulgar and grotesque characters of Italian cinema were a source of inspiration for the characters of this animated short film. Moreover, the fantastic visions in a realistic setting are a clear reference to Hayao Myasaki's Japanese animated movies.

© Shoji Ueda

Spirited away, Hayao Myazaki, 2001

In the film statement of intent, the director writes her motivation for making this film. These words can also serve as a conclusion to this series of articles: “As Charlie Chaplin once said: “ Life is a tragedy in close up, but it is a comedy in wide shot ” and I am convinced that you just need a little distance from things so you can laugh at anything”. 

In this series of articles I wanted to show that cartoons are mediums through which we can talk about anything. If I haven't convinced the readers, I hope at least you've been able to discover some great animated movies or TV shows.