#not to be cliché but you do only understand when that kind of loss happens to you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fukurodaze · 4 years ago

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dump shot

pairing: third year!shirabu kenjirou x first year manager!reader (female) genre/s: PURE FLUFF, meet cute type beat! word count: 2.9k taken from this request by anonymous <3: “Shirabu x Manager! reader where reader is Karasuno's manager and she's seen pining over him and later the two end up in an accident outside the gym (before or after the games) where they find themselves locked somewhere”

for reference, this is set when hinata and the first years are in their second year, so ennoshita is karasuno’s captain. shirabu’s also the captain of the shiratorizawa vbc!

lowercase intended!

when shirabu kenjirou throws a dump shot, he is the coolest person in the room. it’s two words that come out of your mouth, groans of frustration coming from your team, and a faint smirk on the almond haired boy.

“so cool...” you mutter under your breath, watching the practice match between your team and shiratorizawa at their gym. you get goosebumps.

it’s not your first time seeing the third year. you had watched shiratorizawa’s match with karasuno in the prefectural spring high finals, and though your eyes were glued onto the then first-year setter, kageyama, you would, at times, find your eyes stopping at the magenta number 10 jersey. you would later find out his name was shirabu kenjirou, and that you would come to develop an almost baseless crush on him, hopeless at best.

another rally starts, this time with shiratorizawa on match point, an already dragged out 32-31 on the scoreboard. it’s the third set on a friday night, yet the match is already scraping past seven pm and you don’t know if your body can take any more of the anticipation.

and when the magenta jerseys spike a mean straight shot, your hands ball up with whitened knuckles at the bitter taste of a lost game. you run up to the boys with yachi, handing them drinks and towels, telling the second years “you did well” and the third years “that was a good one.” you glance at the first years, some of your friends, and give them a soft smile, as if telling them that you’re going to have to get used to this feeling, because it will happen. lots.

but loss is as temporary as victory when you see the boys mingle with each other, friendliness growing as the new first years dissolve tensions between teams. you even see kageyama bump into hinata and goshiki’s conversation, the sight of it new and endearing.

yachi taps you on the shoulder, “i’m going to be picking up the bibs, can you collect the balls and put them in storage?”

shiratorizawa’s storage room looks more like a shed. it’s also much further than you think, and even darker than you knew storage rooms to be. it looks like an entire sports supply factory outlet rather than a high school unit.

the large basket of volleyballs rolls weirdly on its wheels, knocking left and right as you try to drive it through the doorway. it makes a bit of a fussy sound when you bump into the basket of footballs, and as the footballs begin to fall out of their containers, you close the door in an attempt to keep them inside.

"here they are,” you hear from the corner of the room, behind shelves upon shelves of equipment. your body freezes up dramatically, as if dreading the awkward interaction with the unknown person. hurriedly, you pick up the scattered soccer balls, attempting to take up to five at once to no avail, only causing more sounds of balls hitting wooden floors.

“hello?”

you hesitate to answer. you only continue to put back all the footballs in their place and park the basket of volleyballs in some random corner of the shed before reaching for the door, only to find it doesn’t budge.

“aren’t you karasuno’s manager?”

you turn around to find the one person you wouldn’t want to see you like this. like every high school cliché, shirabu kenjirou is standing right behind you when you turn back, a pair of training shoes hanging off of his left hand. you nod and bow slightly, unsure what to do.

“i, uh, wanted to put the balls back here.”

“but why are you here in the shed?” his voice is softer, you notice, probably because he realises he’s talking to a girl, but his words remind you of how he’d talk to his team during the match.

“i just wanted to help clean up and stuff, like, uh, a token... of appreciation for this practice match?” god, your palms sure are getting sweaty.

“this shed isn’t the place we put our frequently used equipment. we usually put our volleyballs in the room in the gym. it’s the one with the double doors. how come you came so far here?”

you shrug slowly, feeling nice and stupid for not noticing the actual storage room’s large double doors and instead wandering off to carry a basket of volleyballs past three other gyms and a few questioning looks from the shiratorizawa basketball team to this single-doored, large building.

“i’ll just bring them back to the gym now-” you come back to the basket of volleyballs you had just left against a random wall as shirabu pushes on the door’s nonexistent handle. you think it’s all about to end until a muttered curse falls out of the third year’s lips. you look to him in confusion.

then he curses again, this time stopping himself midway as your gaze meets his, voice getting softer again. “did you close the door?”

“yes...?”

“it’s not supposed to be closed,” shirabu sighs, “there’s a little metal rod that falls into a hole in the ground on the other side, and it falls in pretty easily if we close the door, so we can’t really get out right now.”

oh shit.

“i’ll just call- oh my god, i forgot my phone.” your tone is fast and apologetic, considering you had closed the door in the first place. “i’m sorry-”

“don’t be, you didn’t know before.” shirabu sits on a pile of thick and colourful gym mats, elbows on knees. the shoes he was holding are now behind him. “this school might be big, but it’s also damn old.”

shirabu has no idea what situation he’s in right now. frankly, he’s kind of panicking. but he tells himself not to panic, especially when karasuno’s new manager is right there (and she’s pretty cute, not gonna lie - is she a second year?). shirabu would probably be shouting and pushing the door by now until his voice ran hoarse, but surely, there is no use for that.

“so, uh, how are we going to get out?” you shove your hands into your tracksuit jacket, stepping in front of the boy. you’re guessing it’s going to be a bit before you two can get out, so you might as well try to talk to him without a three meter gap in between him and you.

shirabu shrugs, and a look at you tells you that you can sit next to him on the pile of gym mats. “i think we’re just going to have to hope someone notices we’re gone.”

“i think they have to,” you chuckle, “you’re captain. would be kinda crazy if they didn’t notice you were gone.”

the conversation dissolves into awkward silence as the stranger you once pined over is literally right next to you, dried sweat and all, a light laugh leaving his lips.

“what’s your name?” the question is simple, obligatory, even, for introductions, but you swear you feel your heart skip a beat.

“l/n f/n,” you reply, and he says his name in return. you want to say you know, as you’ve already referred to him as captain of the volleyball club, but you settle with silence and a smile. he seems to like it.

“you’re karasuno’s manager, right?”

“yeah. i’m a first year, but i have a brother in karasuno.”

“oh really? is he in the volleyball team?”

you shake your head, “no. he’s in the basketball team, actually, but he’s friends with some of the third years in the team. he’s the reason i got dragged to the spring high prefectural finals last year, actually.”

you hold your hands together, clasping them to evaporate your nervousness. shit, this is shirabu kenjirou you’re talking to, don’t mess it up!

shirabu leans back on his arms, looking up in reminiscence. he sighs, “spring high, huh? you probably saw my tosses back then.”

you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face, the excitement of getting to talk to the third year getting to you, “i remember you from that game the most.”

“damn, then you’d probably also remember how my toss was bad enough for even ushijima-san to get blocked-”

“i think you were really cool, actually.”

shirabu stops in his vocal tracks. there’s no way she means that, he thinks.

“you’re just saying that.”

“well, of course i’m saying it. you wouldn’t hear it otherwise.” your feet kick themselves against the soft pile of gym mats, “but trust me, coming from a karasuno student, you were really cool. your entire team was, too, but, you know.”

at this point, you think you’re just embarrassing yourself. what if he thinks you’re some kind of weird fan? a naive first year? some wannabe manager who didn’t quite understand volleyball to its core? it seems like the conversation loves to come back to silence, and you don’t know how to break the ice.

“thanks,” shirabu mentions, tone higher, as he stands up and off of the gym mats. you feel a weight lift beside you, and in your floor-focused eyes, you see his shoes walk to the basket of volleyballs.

shirabu bounces the ball once, and then once again, before you see his shoes in front of yours. you look up.

“we have time. wanna toss?”

“i’m not that good at overhead passes...” you resist, knowing all too well from pe classes that your fingers don’t have the same kind of magic shirabu’s or kageyama’s have - or anyone in the men’s volleyball club, really.

shirabu only shrugs, “it’s fine, y/n-san. it’s just me. i don’t think you can even be that bad anyways.”

okay, maybe hearing him say your name was enough to persuade you. but still, the possibility of losing your pride in front of shirabu keeps you glued onto the gym mats.

you purse your lips, trying to hide the overwhelming grin spreading on your face. you try to say a word, but you can’t seem to make anything out when teeth and raised cheeks do nothing but make you feel like this hopeless crush isn’t so hopeless after all. and so you nod.

he stands a few feet away from you, tossing the ball at what seemed like the perfect angle for your height only for you to miss it every two good tries.

“see? you’re not bad.” you think he’s lying through his teeth at best.

“i drop, like, every toss you give. this is not not bad.” you slouch, catching the ball this time instead of attempting to toss it.

“well, that’s because you’re just doing it wrong. you hit the ball with the top of your palm every time. of course it’s going to come flying down.”

“okay, captain of the shiratorizawa volleyball club...” you tease, and you think it’s all fun and games until he comes to stand right in front of you, taking the ball.

“put your hands up.”

you do as he asks.

“they should be about this far from your head,” he puts down the ball to adjust your arms, and then your hands, “it’s supposed to feel like there’s a nice place for the ball to rest in your hands.”

his hands are cold and rough when they lightly press on yours, shaping your hands and your elbows the way he does it on court, “your elbows and hands should make a triangle.”

he lets go of your arms, and you keep your arms the way he left them. he tosses the ball to you, and the only thing you feel is the sturdy feeling of fingertips on fabric.

shirabu catches the ball when you toss it back, “see? not bad.”

he doesn’t miss it when your eyes light up at his praise, and he makes a mental note to himself to not get distracted next time shiratorizawa has a game with karasuno. or maybe he will; who knows - maybe seeing you might make him look at his job with more vigour and passion.

“how do you do it?” you stare, “i mean, not that i haven’t seen, but-”

your words are cut off when he sets the ball onto the wall and back in one quick motion, his hands like cradling the ball with care on every push and touch. maybe it isn’t backed by an ace spiker or a team of five, but there’s a quiet power in what he does.

volleyball might be a team sport, but you’ve only been focused on this one setter all afternoon. even worse, he’s from the opposite team.

he holds the ball and bounces it as he looks back at you, “when i got into shiratorizawa, you have no idea how much time i spent doing this.”

he exhales, like a weight has been pulled off his chest, feeling quite nice at your visible reactions. he throws the ball at you, exclaiming “toss!” only for you to catch it square above your head. you whine. then he laughs, and you laugh too, because you've never seen him laugh.

“it paid off, then,” you say, coming to sit back down on the pile of mattresses. he sits next to you again, but closer this time. it’s like your stomach performs a somersault, and you absolutely love it.

"i guess,” he mutters, “maybe next time i’ll show you the dump shot you seemed to like so much.”

you can only bury your face in your hands, remembering the way you exclaimed ‘so cool...’ at his actions about an hour ago. you mumble, “was i too loud?”

he laughs again. you like the sound of it. “no, it was good.”

“it was nice to know one of karasuno’s managers looked at me more than kageyama,” his tone is stagnant, but you can hear him grinning, “that wouldn’t be considered betrayal, would it?”

you take it upon yourself to look him in the eye, and you tell him, with a small voice, “maybe it’s just something about you.”

you hide your face in your hands again, and you hear the setter laugh once more. you wonder if he laughs this much with his teammates.

just as your embarrassment starts to settle, there’s a knock on the wooden door, “y/n? are you here?”

you recognise it as the second year, yamaguchi’s, voice, and you call back out, “yeah?”

“alright, wait up, i’ll just unlock the door...” his voice turns from muffled to surprise after the door opens, seeing you sitting so close to none other than shiratorizawa’s setter.

“i’m so sorry it took this long for us to realise you were, uh, gone,” yamaguchi scratches the back of his head, “but at least you had some company.”

yamaguchi gives the setter a prompt bow, and shirabu does the same.

“anyways, y/n, the bus is waiting,” the boy motions, and you nod, looking at shirabu.

you wave at shirabu and start to leave the shed when he grips the sleeve of your tracksuit jacket.

“are you free on sunday?”

you stop in your tracks, “yeah, i am.”

“i can show you my dump shot then. and there’s also a cute café nearby campus, i heard, so, we can go there after?”

you swear your heart melts at his words, “that sounds good.”

you can feel yamaguchi’s curious stare at both of you, but you don’t mind. “i’ll give you my number, then?”

you search through your pockets for something to take note with, “i don’t have a pen and paper... or my phone...”

shirabu sighs, “me neither, uhm...”

“oh, well. just tell me your number and i’ll memorise it.”

“are you sure?”

“yeah,” you smile, knowing that you’re not that good at memorising things but you know you’d keep his number dialed in your head. as he says out his string of numbers, you make sure to remember it all by the time you get to your bag.

“see you sunday, then.” he waves once more.

“i’ll text you!” you’re left to ponder what the hell you’re going to wear in two days to your date with shirabu kenjirou.

first date with shirabu kenjirou. is it a date? maybe you’ll know it on sunday.

when you step out of the shed, yamaguchi only grins as he walks you back to the bus, amused at witnessing one of his underclassmen set up a date with shiratorizawa’s third year setter and captain.

“on monday, tell us some of shiratorizawa’s secrets,” yamaguchi jokes as you two walk across campus. you glare at your upperclassman, and he only follows it up with a shake of the head and “no, no, just kidding! just have fun on sunday.”

“thank you,” you say quietly as you two approach the bus, “and thank you for unlocking that door at the shed back there.”

“no problem,” yamaguchi replies.

after announcing a small apology to the rest of the team when you enter the bus, you almost run to yachi when she shouts from the back that she’s already got your bag, with you practically grabbing it to take out your phone.

“woah, y/n! are you alright? do you have your stuff?”

you don’t answer, only putting down the numbers you drilled into your head five minutes ago, naming the contact “dump shot” and sending him a quick hello in text.

yachi asks again, “y/n?”

now you snap out of it, and nod before thanking her for bringing your bag. you can’t stop the uncontrollable smile on your face.

yachi stretches her arms out and smiles back, glad that her underclassman seems enthusiastic about this volleyball thing too. “i’m so ready for the weekend. i’m just going to sleep in and rest all day.”

you nod, slouching lazily into the bus yet with unknown excitement in your veins at the thought of spending a day with the boy you’ve only ever seen from afar until tonight.

“i’m so ready for this weekend too.”

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leahseclipse · 4 years ago

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Souvenirs, secrets and coffee dates

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Suspicions about a possible partner rise when Spencer starts buying souvenirs and closely monitoring his phone more than he usually does; as he plans a few surprises for his beloved partner in secret.

Warnings: Mentions of case, usual cm stuff, slight mentions of death, loss of a person (not concerning any of the characters; only mentioned in a few paras)

Category: Fluff

Word count: 11.6k

A/N: Hello!! This fic is another fic I accidentally wrote for an event, for @sunlight-moonrise !! sorry if some moments are badly written,,,,hope you enjoy tho!!

The total fic is 25.1k, so i preferred to cut it in two parts so it wouldn’t be too long.

Continuation of Dear diary

After we got together, days quickly got to weeks, weeks to months, and...now

It’s been more than a year.

Time went by more quickly than I thought it ever would, I often think about that diary that allowed the two of us to meet.

I'm glad that she had it in the first place, and that she lost it after. If she didn't have it, she would have either left a book that belonged to the library, (so, not many chances to find her, or even know she exists, you know), or possibly an item that could have her information, like a phone, or whatever she could have left, but, she could have remembered about the diary and take it.

If it would have happened, we wouldn't have talked, and we still wouldn't be, as I just did a few minutes ago on the phone.

And now that I think about it, It’s been a while since I haven’t seen y/n.

Even though we always talk on the phone, it's not quite the same.

I’m always thinking about her, especially when I’m away on a case and the only thing that allows us to see the other is through a cell phone.

I tried not to let her know I’m tired, I don’t want her to worry too much, she’s the type of person to freak out about the smallest thing, and I wouldn’t really like her to.

She worries enough when I’m away, so I wouldn’t like y/n to have another problem to worry about until I get back.

I hate to let her know; but if there was a word to describe the week I just spent;

exhausting.

It’d definitely be that one, 100%.

Every single case is exhausting, especially when It’d last more than intended; when the profile has to be done again because of sudden changes, when leads turned out to be fake, or don’t make the case progress in any way, and a ton of reasons that if were to be enunciated, would be worth a encyclopedia long.

We all know from the moment we’re announced of a case that we'll come back from it completely dead because of the non-existent sleep we would have had.

One week earlier, I thought it’d be different from usual, and I turned out to be...completely wrong. I had woken up at 3am in a start, just an hour after I had gone to bed with y/n.

She had woken up when I happened to be in the middle of the call, and locked her eyes in mine when I had turned her way while on the phone.

Y/N already knew from the moment I received the call that it meant that I had to go, it had been a few months since we had been together, so she knew the song well after she happened to witness six or seven of the calls.

I knew she didn’t mind because I had to do my job, she has always been very understanding about my work.

Of course, I think that the fact that I have to go away for god knows how long upsets her, but not in a hateful way.

I sometimes wonder if she actually really minds the fact that I would go; even though she always says that she doesn’t.

Whenever I go on a case, I don’t even know when I’ll come back. I’m not coming back in three months, but not two days later.

All we can do to let the other know we’re okay is to call, or send a message; when we happen to have spare time to do it in between breaks.

Well, speaking of calls, these are often calls I have to do when no one else I know is around. I haven’t told any of my colleagues that I’ve been dating her.

I still wonder to this day if it’s because they never mentioned it, saw it, because I didn’t want them to know, or even….both.

I guess it was okay that way, they didn’t know, and nothing changed. We’d still talk the same way as when I wasn’t with her, except for some details, which makes me come back to the ‘talk with her when no one else is around’ topic.

As I am an idiot in love, I can’t help but smile whenever I talk to her, I just can’t help it. I always like to hear about her day, how she’s doing, talk about whenever we both have in mind, I just even appreciate hearing her. But, all that I’m doing when I’m with her isn’t something I can do when I’m around others.

They’d immediately want to know the reason of my behavior, which would certainly go up all the way to Garcia that would certainly harass me about it for weeks, probably with hundreds of mails and texts, as I have to use my computer for mail work, and my phone for cases, so...texting while no one is around is a much better solution.

I don’t think she minds either. She likes to hear about them, but she never mentions seeing them that often, I think she likes the whole ‘secret’ relationship stuff, she kind of sees it like a game in which you would have to go through levels, without being caught by the villains and eventually, lose the game, so, being discovered.

It wouldn’t be that bad if they’d find out, they’d just probably ask themselves why I wouldn’t have told it, or how they didn’t find out, but overall, I think they’d be happy.

But, I like it that way, when we’re together, we’re in our bubble, it’s just the two of us, no one else.

We always try not to mention work, as it mainly is the reason we can’t see each other most of the time, which is...a bit more for me, as I’m often still on a case when she happens to not be at work.

I would like to say that the little time we get to spend together is always enough, but when we finally get time, and I get called, it isn't quite enough.

I always wish I could be there more often, I'm at work most of the time and I'm afraid it could somehow impact our relationship; even if again, it isn’t a bother at all to y/n.

One of my worries when we started dating was that she'd feel frustrated because of that; the fact that I'm not here as often as she'd like me to be, that I'm busy when she's not.

I sometimes have to call her to tell that I won’t be able to make it home after I originally told her that I would come.

At first, she didn’t know what I was doing, even when I’d call her. I didn’t even tell y/n at the library back then.

I just mentioned once that it was an office job, and I don’t think she really had a problem with it, she wouldn't force much on the subject.

And now that I think of it,, it wouldn’t have changed much about our relationship if I had exactly said what I was doing.

The way she had discovered it was really odd, but...not that bad.

I had come to her apartment after she was done with work, and I had shortly gone to the bathroom after entering.

I had left my coat on the table, so she had decided to put it on a chair for me.

What happened next would probably seem stupid and cliché if I'd tell it to anyone, but my badge had slipped out from it and naturally, she picked up what just fell on the ground.

I had crossed the door of the bathroom to see her staring at it, with a confused and kind of surprised look.

It was a mix of these two emotions, I'd say.

I didn't exactly plan for her to find out like that, but I think that when I had previously mentioned an office job, she didn't quite expect that kind of office job.

Which stays understandable, as you don't necessarily think about them literally working at the FBI itself when an office job is mentioned.

And the thing is that, it isn't even a full office job, as I am literally...risking my life out on the field and have a chance to get injured, and uh…in the worst scenario, not make it alive.

So, I think that the fact that I didn't want her to know was to kind of, protect her so she wouldn't worry while I'm at work, asking herself if the last time she would ever see me would be when I had left for work in a hurry.

Yeah, I know, it's kind of morbid to think of it, but, I can't really ignore them at the same time.

They’re mostly the risks that are included, I was completely aware of that when I had entered, so...I can't really complain about anything. No one forced me, it really was a decision that I made alone.

But, it went well overall.

We can say that she was surprised, that is a fact.

But she wasn't mad that I didn't tell her. She understood that I didn't want her to know because of the stuff that makes my job risky, which can be scary, but she was supportive.

She asked me a bunch of questions after that, they all were various and different. I felt like I was a teacher answering questions of a kid, considering how energetic y/n was.

Eventually, the subject of the jet, that I'd travel from one state to another came, and that's when I felt like something lightened inside her.

She had never mentioned it back then, so that way, we both had a common point, a small secret that the other didn’t know.

She had begun talking about her passion of travelling, discovering places she wondered what could be made of, how it was, she always was curious to know more, she'd go wherever her mind would tell her to...which was funny, as the mind would often lead her to the same place, many times, strangely.

Y/N also had the habit of taking books from different places. I remember her having copies of the same book, but each were in a different language.

She didn’t do it with all of her books, because if she did, she’d have to literally dedicate a whole room to store them.

She hasn't been able to travel much after she started working full time, with little vacation time. But if she didn’t have this full time job, she’d travel as much as possible.

So, I had a small idea.

As I'd often travel, I could possibly grab a souvenir from the state I'm in, and give it to her. I thought it could be fun, she also liked collecting objects from the places she'd go to, so, I thought she would probably like the idea.

I didn't say that I planned to do it the first time, I did want to surprise her, even if I was already doing it when I'd come home when she thought I wouldn’t.

It always was a surprise to see me coming back, neither of us knew when it'd be done, so I would rarely get to tell her when I could be back.

But, the gifts I began doing were very special, it meant something to her, what she liked, and eventually, to me.

She meant everything to me and if that was making her happy, it truly was all that mattered in that moment.

The first souvenir I had purchased when I happened to be in California, we had just wrapped up the case; when I had decided to wander around, not far from where the jet was.

I had already gone around quite a few times since the beginning of my career, so I knew where I was going.

That’s when my eyes laid on a shop I hadn't seen before. It must have opened recently; but it really seemed nice at first sight. It sold a bunch of souvenirs, some related to the state’s local traditions, or some cute stuff with the name of the state on it.

As I quietly entered the small shop and walked a bit around, I noticed a small keychain of a bee next to a honeycomb.

Two details above the name of the state written in calligraphy could be seen; so after a bit of thinking, millions of questions whether it was nice or not, I just decided to take it.

I hadn't even realized that I had spent a whole hour in it stressing over what could be fine and what wasn’t.

It basically was a call from Morgan that made me realize that I had been there for almost an hour.

I did eventually make my way back to where the group was, I didn't even know they were actually there because they were waiting for me, for...a bit of time.

I had just told them some kind of excuse, and even if I think they didn’t quite believe it 100%, the subject had been quickly changed. I think they kind of forgot about it after.

I didn’t have many relatives in California, and they hadn’t seen the reason for my prolonged absence this time.

It’s just that, even if it had been almost half a year, I still wasn’t quite ready, I still wanted everything to be the two of us, for a bit more. We didn’t have a deadline or anything, so we could take as much time as possible to decide about it.

I don’t think they’ll be angry, just really surprised that I hid the fact that I had a girlfriend from them for a while now.

They just probably won’t have thought that the genius of the BAU would spend his free time with his girlfriend, and not with books and paperwork as they expect me to, and as I always did.

So, they'll know that I didn’t answer my phone because I had muted it when I was with her.

They probably won’t believe it at all at first.

They'll probably think of a prank, but when it’s gonna hit, I think I have to get ready for a week of questions and conversations about the fact that the genius got a girlfriend.

I know it isn’t mean at all, they’ll just be surprised, and happy for me, but, every time I try to talk to them, thinking they chose to abandon the subject, they’ll immediately try to talk about it.

It’ll have to happen eventually -if they do find out- but I still want it to stay secret for now.

The fact that I also buy stuff for her can also be seen as a sort of top-secret mission, if -of course- the words that I’m using aren’t too exaggerated.

I don’t usually buy souvenirs for myself, so if they see me doing it, I think they’ll try to think if it isn’t for someone else.

But, are they going to think it’s for my mother, or directly for a possible girlfriend?

I tend to stutter when I get nervous sometimes, and as it’ll be about y/n, I might not manage to stay serious.

I’m supposed to not let them know I have a girlfriend, even if I really want them to know.

I kind of feel bad, because that looks like I don’t want them to know because I don’t like her, but that’s the complete opposite.

I love her more than anything, and the fact that I don’t want her to be involved with my work is because I mostly want her to be safe.

There's been many cases where various members of the team, or even people working near us, had to witness their loved ones getting involved in a case, and I wouldn’t want that to happen to y/n at all.

I know that one day or another, we’ll tell them, and that when the day comes, I’ll have to make sure nothing happens by calling her every second to know if she’s okay.

I’ll be worried as hell for her, even if that doesn’t mean that she’ll immediately get targeted, I’m just a worried mess about that.

I’m probably the only one thinking about that, constantly.

Does it make me sound crazy? Yes and no at the same time, if I ever were to answer that question in an honest way.

I just tend to imagine scenarios that probably have no chance of ever happening when it comes to someone that I deeply care about, which is...basically the whole team, my mom, and her.

So: literally everyone in my life right now.

Back to where I was, it’s better not to let anything slip out, even if I do feel like...it isn’t the thing I’d usually do.

It..isn’t quite something people would expect me to do.

Maybe I’ll talk to her about it when I come back, it may be a good time, I guess.

Whether the choice would be, I'll still keep bringing her souvenirs as I always did, she likes them every time, and even displayed some a bit everywhere around her apartment.

This kind of became a tradition between us.

Y/N would often do the same by organiszing nights where I'd be the one deciding what we would do, which would be watching doctor who till 2AM most of the time.

I wonder if she doesn’t hate me after that.

I do hope we’ll get to it often.

I do miss that.

When was the last time I got a moment to breathe without having to worry about the work waiting for me outside?

A while ago, if I had to be honest with myself.

I don’t even feel like thinking about it, it’s really depressing.

It’s been a while now since the last time I had time to talk with y/n, because trust me, I’ve never been waiting that much for a break to get to call her than for something else.

I’m just waiting for just a minute to get to talk, but the odds aren’t going in my favor today apparently. It kind of makes me feel bad to just send a text, I know she’ll understand I’m busy with work and can’t call, but still, I prefer to call her over than texting words.

I tend to prefer to hear her voice and get her to talk if I ever hear worry in her voice, because I always know that she tends to not say everything in texts, I understand her on that one, a message and an actual conversation isn’t the same.

You can’t really figure out the mood of the person in texts, it’s just commas, points, but otherwise, it’s up to you to guess whether they just typed like that or if something is up.

I just like to know if she’s okay, I wouldn’t want her to spend the day feeling down, and not talk about it because I’m either busy, or because she’s afraid it might add more stress than I already have because of my job.

But I’d never refrain y/n from talking about what bothers her, on the contrary, I always want to know what’s in her thoughts, I’m often absent, so at least, I’d prefer to know she feels okay, because otherwise, I won’t stop worrying until I know.

I haven't forgotten about the souvenir tradition either.

It's been a while since I've been doing that, and we both have begun liking it more and more each time, I get to talk to her about the place I got it from, and sometimes, I even end up rambling about the case.

She also tells me stuff about the place if she visited it, or if she didn't; places that make her think of the place the souvenir was from, it's always interesting to have these conversations, we both get to learn stuff.

When these kinds of conversations occur, we either continue the subject or change it, and don't even notice how much time we spend talking.

Our best record is 2:54AM. Let's hope we don't go further next time we have a chat; because we always end up regretting it the next morning.

Considering the lack of sleep I have, and how late I go because of my work, sleeping late on my days off isn't helping at all.

It only makes it worse for when I'll actually get back to work, so, we'll try not to stay up that late and sleep to at least enjoy the sleep I usually don't have when on a case.

I’m always saying that, but it’s not that easy sometimes, we usually don’t think about the time we spend talking, so, the ‘going to bed early’ matter is still an unsolved problem for now.

Talking about it, I did get to sleep early today, we decided to continue the searches and I have to admit that I didn’t sleep like that for a while.

I can’t really say that I hope it arrives often because that would literally be like not doing much, because as we don’t sleep as much as we’d like to, we can totally stay in bed all day if no one comes to get us out.

It reminds me of when I was around 12, my mom would sometimes allow me to stay at home, and we would just sit in bed while she would talk to me about what she liked, anything that went through her mind.

She does like to hear about my mom too, and actually slid the matter in the conversation quite a few times, more than I could ever count, little does she know my mom does the same, they both are happy to hear about the other, they look like two best friends sometimes.

I do wonder if they’ll act like that, it won’t really surprise me if they actually do to be honest, they both like similar things, used to do same things before, and I think y/n would like to hear about some of my mom’s stories, or even just my mom talking, she always manages to keep the other person interested, I always feel like a kid when I talk with her.

I do guess some things never change.

They will both have a lot to tell, y/n traveled a lot when she was younger, and still remembers every trip she did, and noted everything down in not one notepad, but at least three of four of them.

She writes what she did, where she went, what she liked the most, some of her favorite things like, stuff she purchased, activities, it really is a whole story, she could literally write one book for each trip at this point and if I’d tell her about it, I do think she would do it.

And sometimes, when she would read a book, or even when we would just go to the library together, she would often find something that reminded her of one of her travels.

She mentioned not having an eidetic memory at all, but by moments, I wonder if she doesn’t have it without knowing it, considering all of the stuff she remembers.

Y/N always liked to do new stuff she hasn’t done, she likes to learn a lot, but only when it comes to non-educational purposes, she wasn’t really a good student.

Apparently to her, sitting all day in a chair with a teacher yelling at you, or either saying nothing but nonsense you can’t understand was absolutely ‘boring as hell’, as she said with her own words.

I do, and don’t agree with that at the same time, I don’t know. I’ve always had the habit of studying instead of doing what most people my age would do when I was young, but I did want to do something else after working more than my liking.

Guess it hasn’t changed much now, I pretty much work most of the time, and, unfortunately, I don’t get to rest whenever I want, only if the case happens to be over.

But, enough talking of the case, and all of the days of absence that comes with it.

I already have to endure it, so might as well not plunge the knife deeper than it is, it’s been many years since it’s been occurring and it shouldn’t be more of a bother than it is as I’ve already made myself into the idea in the first week.

I actually wonder if it’s the same on her side, I know she doesn’t have the same sleep habits, but she doesn’t always go to sleep at the same time. It’s always because of various reasons like; she began remembering a trip and wrote about it, thought about a trip too and got lost in her thoughts.

I often find her daydreaming most of the time, it does remind me of myself with my books, I don’t pay much attention to what's happening around me.

If I take for example the moment we met, I don’t know if it really counts. I only saw her diary first, but I paid attention to the item that belonged to her, so, in a way, it counts.

She’s also pretty much what keeps me sane when I’m working, she manages to send messages at the right time just when I need to. I have no idea how she does it, but if she could do it everyday, I literally would not mind at all.

I always like to hear whatever she talks about, a book, a story she already told a week ago, I know she likes to talk about them on repeat until she either forgets it or moves to another one.

She seriously could have been a teacher if she had chosen another career, her voice is really soothing, and she explains the words in a manner that makes the story more interesting that you’d thought.

I often found myself asking her to tell another one when I had found the previous one too short for my liking, when it literally lasted over half an hour.

She literally has the power of transforming me as a kid when she talks about stuff she did on a trip.

But, even after she told me all of that, I don’t really enjoy the kind of travelling I’m doing. It isn’t like a vacation, at all, it really is the exact opposite. I don’t really come here for the purpose of having fun.

I do hope I’ll get to travel with her once, in the purpose of actually having fun instead of two hours of sleep, having a chance of -possibly- getting injured, and all of the good and funny risks of my job.

And, while I’m talking about it, I do hope, if we decide not to go far, that I’m not going to actually have a case when I’m supposed to have a vacation.

This stays like, extra rare, but it can’t really be ruled out at the same time. So...let’s hope it doesn’t occur, I’d prefer not.

If we travel, it’ll be to stay out of work, so if the reason that basically refrains us from travelling happens, I’m not sure either of us would be pleased with it.

I'm far enough away, so, let’s not add more and hope that scenario won’t occur once.

I’ve already stayed buried for way too long in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice Morgan standing besides me before I thought of turning my head in his direction.

“Oh, sorry. Thought of something and got carried away...did you say something?”

“I know that I don’t usually talk about that with you, but I was just wondering, is there something going on? You always go away for calls, have something to do before we get back home, or after, I thought I’d check on you, just to know.”

Well shit. What the hell am I supposed to say now?

“No, it’s nothing, really. I just um...it’s just some stuff with...an old friend. It’s nothing bad, I’m fine.”

Ok, you’re definitely screwed right now, good luck to get out of this mess Spencer.

“Nothing, really? That’s kinda rare from you.” He commented, which made the two of us laugh, Derek always managed to lighten the situation with whatever he thought could do it, even if some words happened to be placed...at the wrong moment sometimes; but he’d never mean to harm, always to make things better as much as he could.

This situation wasn’t a bad one, but I definitely think that he could sense that I wasn't telling…what he truly would take as the right answer.

It definitely wasn't bad, but it probably won't get as bad as it is, I've already put myself in a mess I have no idea how to avoid by not managing to find my words and stuttering.

That really was the right thing to do to avoid all suspicions.

"I'm just tired, that's it. I couldn't sleep much this week, so...yeah, I—" I said, as I was getting to thank whatever god made me get out of this mess by making someone call.

At this point, even if it was a number that called me to advertise whatever stuff they wanted people to buy, I'd still be thankful for it.

I slightly got the phone out of my pocket, it wasn't an unknown number, just y/n; the one that just saved me from an interrogation.

I swear that when I come back I'll cancel our doctor who marathon, cook her whatever she wants, give her a bath, massage her, because she really saved me from a conversation I couldn't get out of and didn't know how to either.

Gosh what would I do without her? I'd be dead right now.

"Oh, it's uh, my friend, I have to answer. I uh...see you in a few minutes." I excused myself as I went into an empty room, checking a million times if I locked the door behind me.

"Gosh, y/n...you just saved me. Tell me whatever you want when I get back, I'll do it."

"Just breathe, it's ok. You sound like you just ran through the whole city." Y/N told me, as I heard like she was holding off laughter probably from how dramatic I was acting.

And in a way, she was right, I wouldn't be mad if she laughed. "Wha- What happened?" She asked.

"Well uh, I was thinking of something and got lost in my thoughts, and all of a sudden Morgan comes to me, asking if everything was okay because he wanted to check in case, and like an idiot, I stuttered at the moment when I told that it was a friend, because I almost mentioned that it was my girlfriend."

"And you just did a whole theater play for that? They'll have to know at some point, and if that happened, it wouldn't have been death. Still, it wouldn't have been the best way, but not the worst one either."

"Yeah, I know y/n, but, I prefer them to know another day, a special one, not when a colleague asked me if I was fine when my whole team could know, and possibly Garcia, who won't stop for a whole week."

"You're being dramatic Dr. Reid."

"No- I'm not!"

"You are."

"N—"

"You. Are. I have the last word, no matter what. I don't know when and how you want them to know, but we can't keep hiding it till we're married and have two kids with a third on the way at some point. And they're not anyone, they're like your family, and if you like, respect and trust them, so do I."

"Yeah, you're right. But not now. I trust you too, don't go behind my back to the office either.”

"You just gave me a suggestion."

"And that wasn't a suggestion."

"That seemed like it."

"They won't let you in, so, do what you want."

"I'll show them pictures."

"They could be photo-shopped, anyone with good skill can make it seem like a real picture."

"I have videos."

"Same thing, it stays a file that can be edited with a software. How do you think they do the effects in movies and shows? With a software."

"You're no fun Reid."

"You're lying, you always laugh at my jokes."

"No, I'm not."

"I can even tell through a call that you're lying."

"You're a bad profiler."

"Then how do I solve crimes and can tell that you love me, Spencer Reid, the ultimate genius." I said, with a dramatic voice as if I was saying lines of a play.

"...I do love you."

"I already know it because I do too."

"Don’t avoid the subject, we’re still gonna have to tell them.”

“...really?” I asked, with a tiny voice.

“Yeah, really. I think he asked you because you were acting like nothing but suspicious, and if, on top of that, he saw you buying stuff, you’re not close to being dead. And also, if I remember correctly from what you said, Penelope is really chatty, so that might go up to her, and once she hears about it, you know. She might not have an eidetic memory, but I don’t think that she, or even anyone else will forget it.”

“I’m dead, I know. I’m still asking myself if he’s not the only one that knows. They might all know it but keep their mouths shut. I can’t go and ask them either, so it’s all a waiting, guessing game right now.”

“You should have told them from the beginning.”

“I have to remind you that you weren’t against it either. We’re both in it.”

“...true. You have a point genius.”

“So, what’s the plan then?”

“Tell them at some point, we’re not going to reveal it in ten years. I have no possibility of reaching out to them, except stealing your phone, which isn’t possible as you’re away, so the only way they’ll know is through you.”

“But, we’re not really forced to. There’s not a rule or anything that says you are obligated to state if you have a partner or not.”

“It’s not the same, they’re like your family, in a way, if you ignore DNA stuff and all, you’ve been working with them longer than we know each other, they’re not strangers, I think they’ll be happy to know you’re sharing your life with someone.”

“You have a point this time.”

“Mind you, I’ve had the point since the beginning of our chat, which I think…had been lasting way too long, by the way.”

“How many….” I questioned, as I took away the phone from my ear to see the time. “Oh, almost six minutes, that’s...a bit long for a chat I’m supposed to have with a friend.”

“Yeah, a bit too long. Oh, by the way, before you go, I’ll be at your apartment, I felt like it needed a small clean, it’s been a while since you’ve been away, and you’ve been staying a lot at my place, so might as well come back to a clean apartment.”

“You don’t have to, I’ll clean myself.”

“I've been there for the last three hours, I didn’t plan on asking for your permission. I just have to hope no one you know decides to come by.”

“Penelope? No, she’s always busy.”

“You told that last time, and she popped up out of nowhere because she had something to give you, and if she had a key, she would have seen a half naked girl in the middle of her friend’s apartment, how’s that?”

“I didn’t know she would actually come, she never did before.” I said, with a small voice, kind as if I was being grounded by my mother.

“Unless someone forgot to charge their phone, which was you, so that’s why she came.”

“It only happened once.”

“And it’ll happen again if you don’t charge your phone. Luckily you were there and you heard, because if you didn’t hear and as I said, she happened to have a key, what would have happened if she would have seen items that belong to me, and the owner of these when you’re supposed to have no partner in your life as they don’t know anything?”

“Um...they would have known.”

“That’s why we have to stop this small game soon. I sounded like a mother talking to her child, I’m...sorry about that. Um...I know you can’t, as you like...remember everything, but, do as your brain is a computer, delete that chat.”

She also sounds like a child too, we’re both kids to be honest.

“I can’t do that.”

“Um...what about I buy you books?”

“We can make a deal then.”

“I can’t believe that...we’re both kids.”

“Yeah, but I mean, that’s why we get along.” I commented.

“I can’t believe how I’m still handling you. We also look like an old married couple.”

“You do, I don’t.”

“I’m not so sure about that- Spencer it’s been almost ten minutes now, you should uh...go back.”

“Ten minutes...since when? Now I’m definitely dead.”

“I wish I could say yes but, you’re almost dead, if you manage to avoid suspicion after...of course.”

“Yeah, that’s an easy thing to say…?”

“I can’t talk to them and say ‘oh hi, I’m Spencer’s secret girlfriend, since half a year’, because apparently it’s not the right moment.” She said, ironically.

“Okay, I get it...we’ll do it when I get back, I don’t know. We can’t wait another year at this point, it’s a bit too late and the suspicions raised themselves...a bit too much to be dissipated.”

“It’s been a while so, yeah, it’s time. We should have told them since we met at the library.”

“Yeah, maybe we should have..”

“But we can be proud of ourselves, especially you, if uh...of course, they don’t know. Because, I’m just saying, but...they could know, but choose to not say anything until they’ll realise that you know that they know you have a girlfriend. I’m...just saying.”

“So, there might be a chance that I’m already screwed and I didn’t know, or that they just have suspicions but don’t really know…? If you get it…?”

“Yep, and the worst part is that you can’t go and ask them, because if they actually don’t know, you’ll just be revealing what you thought they knew but actually don’t.”

“That whole story is an endless maze. I’m thinking we shouldn’t have waited that long.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna go, I’ll uh...be back tomorrow towards the beginning, middle of the afternoon, we’re almost done, we have like...some papers left and other stuff.”

“Okay, don’t make me wait too long, I’ll be waiting at your place.”

“I’ll be back before you even know it.”

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you too.”

They’re not gonna believe the friend excuse anymore at this point

I stayed for more than ten minutes, no one stays that long with me. I don’t really know, the team’s always with me, so when we talk it’s case related or short texts in general, and it’s not really part of my habits to go away for that long.

I guess we’ll see.

With a soft sigh, I unlocked the door before lowering the handle down, exiting the room to walk to where I originally was, already hoping to get some remarks.

“I was about to come to where you went to check if you weren’t dead.”

“It’s been a while since we talked, that’s all Derek. Why?”

“Nah, just asking.” He said, raising his two hands up above his head.

“Ok then..?” I almost panicked when I answered, but I think that my reaction was enough for him to see it as I was confused...I think.

Okay, I think they already know by now, awesome.

I even came to the point of wondering if they knew and were just pretending to not know all along. They could have stayed in silence, acting like they didn’t know.

It also was a bit my fault, I did let some details slip, like my behavior, how I checked my phone more often, my long absences, again, how I talk, avoiding suspicion became kind of difficult.

Especially a bit after we started dating; we got really closer, and talking often helped us fill the distance. I really felt bad for leaving her alone that often, so at least I’d feel less guilty by talking to her whenever I could.

It really changed fast, just a few days ago, I didn’t even plan on telling it at all, but, y/n did convince me to not do so, and now, it might not be a good idea to continue pretending.

It’s kind of obvious that they know something is up, they’ve known me longer than her, so obviously, they know when something is different about me.

I just...was so focused on her, that I didn’t even think that they’d notice to be honest.

But, as she said, I don’t think that it’ll be...that bad. They’ll be understanding, and happy, that’s all.

They’ve always been a bit shocked when they’d think I had a girlfriend; because I really wasn’t the guy to have one to them, I don’t really know how to explain as I’m not in their heads, but I saw it that way, but again, that wasn’t in a mean way, they were just surprised.

Except this time, they won’t think that I don’t have a partner, they’ll definitely think I have one this time.

We didn’t really pay attention to the world around us, especially me, if I were to be really honest.

I just fell so hard for her, I would always be talking to her, thinking about her, and only looking at her when she’d be with me.

I always hold her hand when we go out together, I don’t know why, I can’t say more than a few minutes without it, and also, it’s always funny to compare our hand sizes, it’s cute.

Also another thing, I can’t help but mimic the emotions on her face sometimes, without even realizing it, because when she smiles, I also happen to do so.

I just can’t help myself but think about things that make her so perfect in my eyes; she truly means a lot to me and I can’t seem to imagine what my life would be like if she didn’t happen to be in it.

I remember saying stuff like; “When you meet your soulmate, remember that the act of bringing you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other.”, or even, “Maybe the events in our lives were set in motion a long time ago”; that may sound like cheesy sentences, or whatever means to anyone else; but I guess it’s just how I see things, I do mean it when I say these.

I’ve noticed she always likes to hear them, she wouldn’t see it as rambling or anything else, just a sentence like another one I’d casually say, she admitted quite a few times that my talking never bothered her in any way.

Even if most of it was rambling, and facts, stuff that anyone else would be bored of after one minute; but y/n never did, she would often be the one to ask me about it, she wanted to know stuff too, and get to brag about it to people she knew.

I really like these little things, the small details about each other, what we think, what we like, and what we know to do to make the other happy, including the small souvenirs I bring her when I get the occasion.

This time, it’s a small pumpkin, it’s not halloween related at all, just a cute pin. I know we’re literally in January, but it’s our favorite holiday, and we happen to talk about it all year, no matter what month it is.

We also like other holidays, but that one stays our favorite. We’ve always had a liking for it.

Since it’s almost February, it means that Valentine's Day is close, so...I could possibly do a small event, or a letter, or even organise some stuff we could do on dates.

There’s plenty of time to plan all of it, I’ll just keep it in the corner of my head and think about it again when the occasion comes.

No matter how many times it happens, I can’t help but always feel relaxed when I come back home after a case, it isn’t always fully happy as the thought of the families often haunt my mind, I can’t help but feel a bit guilty, the cases ends up getting resolved, but the families never move on, only me as I go back to the bureau, and get called for another.

It’s always hard to think about it, and we’ve at least found ourselves getting stuck on a case even after it got resolved; but at least, if that can be reassuring, in a way, the ones who had committed the crime won’t harm anyone else and make other people lose their loved ones, that’s what I try to tell myself when I can’t get the thought out of my mind.

It also helps to be with the people I'm closest to and appreciate, with the team, we've been through it more than we can recall, and it helps to talk about it between us, try to find a tiny ounce of light in the tragedy, and even when the case impacts us personally, we try to move on, because even if we don't know the victim most of the time, it's not good to suffer for too long, they wouldn't want that for their families, or anyone else that might have cared about them, we have to learn to move on, at our own pace and honor their lives.

That's the best we can do for them, and even though we don't know them, we sometimes happen to think about the victims, it's hard not to get impacted by it, but when it happens, we have to try to not let it touch deeply and do our best to find the author of the crime, for them, and their loved ones, whom the pain will lessen with time for some, but will always stay deep inside their hearts.

The aftermath of a case is always rough, but we don't have much choice to face it like we can, and get ready for the next one.

I'm really glad to have everyone in my life around me, they're the one who I talk to, confide in, laugh with, and spend the most of my time with, but that last is an exception sometimes.

When I'm not on a case and have no papers, I often happen to be with y/n, and find some kind of excuse to say to the team they believe...or not, it depends.

When I happen to decline their offer, they either think that I'm going to spend the night watching whatever show I brag about, or read, but...when I do think that's the reasons they have in mind, I realize that I underestimated them too fast by thinking of a simple and silly reason when they literally began immediately thinking of the real stuff, which is in that case, me having a partner.

So, yeah, the reason they think about when I don't join them is because of a partner. Which they think is definitely real; because of my "successful" way of hiding it.

I'm sure they already know it by now, I'm not sure of it, but at least I know that I can't really go back. They definitely know something is up and trying to hide it more won't lessen the suspicions, on the contrary.

They’ll be informed of it officially in a bit, I’m not sure when, I just want it to be special not just a; “Oh, here’s my girlfriend.”, I don’t really want it to happen this way.

I’m literally about to plan a whole meeting with her and the team, while I could just shorten it to something more simple.

I may be over dramatic over this…

I guess we have time though, I’m barely coming from a case, and I’d prefer to spend the next days with her, because if I would plan it, she doesn’t have to know at all, which means I’ll have to hide stuff, see her less, and that’s the last thing I would want to do after not seeing her for what felt weeks to me.

Again, yes, I may be a bit overdramatic;, I admit it, but even when I talk to her on the phone, text her or even buy stuff, I still want nothing more but to see her; nothing replaces the feelings I have when she’s close to me.

I do like to hear her voice even when it’s through a phone, but I prefer over everything to just have her close.

I wish it could have happened now, but we all know what returning from a case is, paperwork and all, we don’t immediately go home, as much as we all want to do it more than anything after the week we’ve had.

I’ll be in my car before I even think of it, I just have to do what I have to do, and it’ll be over, I would have said “as soon as possible”, but I doubt Hotch will accept reports done in two minutes, and upset him is the one thing no one wants to see, we’re all tired, so our patience eventually tends to be limited, which is understandable.

I thought that I would have been able to think of going home as I previously told, but I soon found myself struggling to stay away and focused on the left work on my desk. If she had happened to work with me, even if I were to be tired, I’d ignore it because I would be busy staring at her every two seconds, and eventually, lose all focus.

And even though she wasn’t with me at work, I still happened to freeze for two minutes in the same spot when I thought of her.

I just can’t wait to see her again, I really missed her a lot.

I was so distracted on the way in that I almost drove to her place before remembering she said that she would be waiting at my apartment yesterday.

She's probably gonna be either in the bathroom taking a bath, as she always prefers my bathroom. Her apartment has a shower, and as she finds it too tiring to stand sometimes, she prefers to shower at my place, and I kind of understand her and agree with her on this point.

When I come from work, I just want to lay down and stay up only if I need to, which tends to become rare once I'm in my bed, and basically nonexistent when y/n happens to lay besides me, and even if I dared to think of leaving without her, I think she wouldn't agree, we literally both can't stay away from each other, we're as magnets, in a way.

She could also be watching the same episodes of Doctor Who for god knows how many times. I would often find her still watching it at 2AM when I'd wake up at night.

I even had to pull her to bed myself, and tossed her over my shoulder once.

I don't think she's sleeping now, she's literally a ball of energy, if I take the 'still watching tv at 2am' matter. If I didn't pull her to bed, I bet she would have kept watching it.

I would normally say that she's a child, but I'm also a child myself sometimes, so I can't make fun of her, which would literally be as I made fun of me; but it's okay, we often make fun of the other, so there's so harm in doing it, as it's basically how we talk generally.

Which includes her calling me 'genius', 'smart pants', '187', and, I know it isn't the subject, but, gosh, her smile when she laughs, it's honestly one of my favorite things about her.

So, her making fun of me isn't that bad if it means that I get to see her laughing and all happy.

As I looked at the surroundings, I soon came to the realization that I happened to be close to the destination, just a block away I'd say.

If there weren't other cars around me, and people, I would have sped as I was on a highway to get there faster.

Although the ride was less than a quarter of an hour (depending on traffic, it could maximum be twenty minutes), it still somehow felt longer…if I don't count the times I had to stop to let people cross the street.

I also really blamed other people for being there at the moment as I was driving, that was a bit stupid, people weren't going to stop because I had to see my girlfriend (even if, I admit that I wouldn't have mind if they did stop, it could...be nice.), they absolutely don't care about it, as much as again, the inverse could have been cool, but absolutely unlikely to happen in this reality.

I sighed for a long minute when the familiar structures came to my field of view, logically meaning that I was really close to see her, I wish I could have sped the car, but as always, people.

I hope she doesn't mind the fact that I made her wait (and still am right now), but I'm pretty sure she won't mind, just "yell" at me about it, but nothing including hate.

As I stopped the engine in front of the building, undoing my seatbelt and stepping out of the car before locking it after my exit, I excitedly made my way to the entry of the building, almost tripping on some of the steps considering how impatient I was.

Although I was really impatient, I wouldn't have quite appreciated the fact of breaking a leg, so I obviously slowed down and paid attention a bit more.

You could really compare it as what a kid feels like on the morning of Christmas waking up to see his present, except right now, what I was truly waiting for, was to see her when I'd open the door; but she wasn’t only a gift, she was my everything, my person.

I really tend to get emotional when I talk about her, I don’t know why. I remember almost crying when I thought she hurt herself badly one day, but she only fell down a step, it was nothing bad, but I really thought she had broken something, I hope she didn’t break a bone or anything else while I was gone; she often tends to be clumsy.

After getting lost in my thoughts (for the millionth time today), I took the keys out of my pocket and softly opened the door, closing it once I entered while trying not to make a lot of noise.

It quite surprised me to see my apartment this time.

Small lights were attached to the wall, above it, small polaroid pictures taped down, some hearts, probably cut down, in coloured paper I think.

The only lights were coming from the ones attached to the wall, so the apartment wasn’t quite visible, but still, I didn’t turn the light on in case she happened to be asleep, which happened to be what I expected, as I saw a distinct figure on a couch, a blanket wrapped around it.

I sat down to her level, taking a moment to watch her for a bit before putting my hand on her head, as I gently stroked her hair.

The sight of her was so beautiful, and after being away for a week, it truly was the best thing to come home to. I could never get sick of it, that became my favorite thing to see after we met, and it’ll always stay that way, I don’t think it’ll ever change.

I could watch her for hours, and I wouldn’t even realize how much time would go by, But realizing it, I don’t know if that could be considered as psychopath behavior…

As long as there’s no bad intentions, I guess it isn’t.

Yeah, I think the lack of sleep is kicking in right now, I’m saying weird stuff. Y/N would probably say I’m crazy if she ever happened to hear me.

I also figured out that while she was asleep, I could possibly give her a little bit more sleep, while I take a shower, change myself and possibly cook some food?

Without burning it...of course.

I wouldn’t like her to eat burned food, even if she won’t really mind, she’s not a good cook either, so at least we understand each other. But still, I’d like her to eat something not burned.

I’ll just see what I can do after, I already have things to do, and if I keep thinking I still won’t have done one thing before she wakes up.

Stroking her hair one more time, I raised myself up as I glanced at her one more time, smiling as I did so. I left the room, heading to the bathroom.

I’m not going to lie to myself, but I literally spend less time in the bathroom than usual.

All of my motions were sped up and without even realizing it, it probably was mainly because I was way too impatient to get out of the room to have y/n in sight again.

I honestly never did that with anyone else before, was I scared that she would suddenly disappear or something? She was literally asleep.

Yeah, I tend to get paranoid even when she’s in the next room, with absolutely no danger in sight, I just imagine stuff that could seem a bit ridiculous if heard by someone else.

I guess that’s why I don’t talk to anyone about it, but, I don’t think anyone would take it badly, I just -again- think people are going to react badly- when it’s perfectly normal, everyone worries about their loved ones, maybe not as bad as me, but- they worry.

But now, absolutely everything is fine, I don’t have to start worrying, I’m gonna walk out of the bathroom and she’s simply going to be there, exactly where she was when I left, probably asleep...or not.

She doesn’t have a light sleep at all, it’s a task to wake her up in the morning, and I don’t think she ever woke up when I accidentally dropped utensils in the kitchen one day. I just saw her slightly moving, but when I called her name, she didn’t even wake up.

That happened to be quite surprising when I just saw her, sitting on the couch as I left the bathroom.

We looked at each other, and I just froze in place, kind of confused.

She never wakes up first, I’m the one who usually wakes her up, so, I was quite confused when I just saw her awake, about to stand up.

“I didn’t hear you coming…” Y/N said, rubbing her eyes.

“That’s literally because I did everything not to wake you up. Did the uh...water wake you up?”

“I just woke up a few minutes ago, oh and I’m sorry, I was just tired after you know, cleaning, and that…” She explained, pointing at the decorations. “I can just take them off if you don’t like them, it’s-”

“What- no! I like what you did, that’s really nice.” I quickly reassured her, making my way towards the couch. “Why would you think I wouldn’t like it?”

“I just, you don’t decorate it often, so I thought I’d do that, I...I’m not sure if you’ll be home for valentine’s day as you were away often because of work, so...I did that, so you wouldn’t feel bad or anything. Is it too much?”

“Not at all. Don’t worry, I do get why you did that. I hope you don’t feel bad, I’m kind of worried that you feel upset when I’m away, I’m not here as much as I would like to be, you didn’t expect this when we started dating, I feel bad sometimes.”

“I don’t feel bad, you’re just doing your job, and hey, even if some cases don’t end well, you get to catch the ones who did it, so they won’t hurt anyone else, so why would I get upset?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And, I know that even if you don’t say it, you’re worried for me, so don’t be. I’m completely fine, and if anything happens, you know that I’ll call you.”

“I know too, and you don’t lie on this point because you called me once when there was a spider in your shower.”

“...yeah, I did. And you laughed at me when I called.”

“That’s because I knew she wasn’t as big as you described. When I came, she didn’t even have the size of a coin, she was so small.”

“She wasn’t that small.”

“She kind of was. She wasn’t two millimeters tall, but not two centimeters.”

“I exaggerated a bit.” She admitted, slightly hitting me with her elbow when she saw a smile on my face. “It’s not funny!”

“It kind of is.”

“I swear that I’m gonna cook burned eggs for you and force you to eat them.”

“Burned eggs are like regular ones to me, neither of us know how to make them normal.”

“...true. So, in that case, what are we supposed to do right now?”

“I think we should do some pasta, it isn’t really difficult...if we follow the steps like it’s told.”

“Yeah, I just hope we won’t burn the apartment. I prefer to burn the pasta rather than set a fire.”

“Same thing.”

“Okay, let’s hope we don’t burn anything.”

“Oh, wait. I forgot.”

“What did you forget?” She asked, visibly confused.

“I forgot...that,” I said, pausing as I kissed her cheek which earned a small giggle from y/n. “And...that.” I continued, heading over to where my bag was.

"You didn't have to Spence, really."

"Yes, I had. You have to see how cute that is." I explained, walking back to her. "Look at that, it's adorable, a small pumpkin."

"Okay, it really is." She smiled, taking the small item. "It's from our favourite holiday. I miss buying pumpkins, I haven't done it since I was a kid."

"Yeah, it's been a while for me too. I wish we could do it, but I don't have much of an idea where they could be. We both live in buildings, and I doubt the landlords or the neighbors will appreciate this."

"They definitely won't. I guess we'll do it later, when we're married maybe, or…more simply, when the team will know."

"Oh, yeah...that."

"That, yeah."

"I do think they know by now."

"Probably, it's been five months, and you've been acting like nothing but a guy that's absolutely in love these past weeks."

"What can I say? I couldn't really hide it anymore."

"You could have been more discreet, you were literally surrounded by profilers, they definitely catched up."

"I should have asked you to teach me how to be clumsy. That way I would have broken a leg."

"Hey! I'm not doing it on purpose!"

"It looks like it! You almost broke your leg when you fell off a single step!"

"I'm gonna push you up the stairs one day if that's what you want."

"And how are you gonna do without me? You can't even cook."

"You can't either."

"I'll have Rossi teach me. He can basically teach anyone."

"Then why do you still suck? You visited him a lot from what you told me."

"I uh...didn't participate, I just watched."

"Then that explains it."

"I can cook! I'm gonna show you."

"Okay, I'm watching."

"Don't make fun of me!" I shouted, taking the pillow off the couch to throw it at her.

I shouldn't have done that, I literally started a war that lasted at least…twenty minutes, then we talked more, ten more minutes, then again, which led us to eat one hour later.

Eventually, we managed not to burn anything at all and ended the afternoon on the couch, talking about whatever came to mind.

"We should do something for the next few days. In case you get called, we should at least do something fun." She proposed, hesitating.

"Like what, I don't have many ideas…"

"Um well…what do we both like to do usually?"

"Let me think...coffee?"

"What about...we go on dates, except it's with coffee too."

"So, coffee dates?"

"Yeah. We could also add something to make it more...fun."

"A kind of...challenge?"

"Mhm."

"I think there’s a new place that opened recently? We could try it out."

"Maybe other ones too. Wait- I got an idea.

"Which is?"

"A mission to find the best cup of coffee in town. We both like coffee, and It’d be nice to discover what the other shops have."

"That could work, totally."

"Okay. Coffee dates and coffee missions it is."

"The title is kind of weird." I admitted

"Do you have anything else to propose?"

"Just dates, I guess."

"It's so basic." She argued.

"But it's easier though."

"Easier than telling you have a girlfriend?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Then if you bring up that, yeah, it's easier than that."

"I knew it."

"Of course you did.”

“That’s because I’m always right.”

“Always? I’m not so sure about that.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m not smart enough Reid?”

“Maybe.” I teased.

“I’m really going to kill you, I didn’t forget what I said earlier.”

“You wouldn’t dare to.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” She insisted.

“Okay, I apologize. You’re as smart as I am.”

“I prefer that answer.” Y/N approved, which sent the both of us into a fit of laughter, which seemed totally endless at first.

It lasted about five minutes before we sort of calmed ourselves to come back to a calm state. We didn’t look much at each other, as we knew it would do nothing but make us laugh again for a duration we didn’t even know.

But, even if that meant that we would laugh for a few minutes, even if that meant that we’d both complain because our stomachs would hurt, it’ll have been worth it, I wouldn’t have regretted it.

These were the moments we both knew the other appreciated to spend, we both took a liking for these, and often tend to forget about everything else.

It would just be the two of us; we’d forget about work, anxieties, just for a moment.

Work has always been a problem to me, I couldn’t see her as much as I’d like, having to interrupt an afternoon we thought would be calm to go to work, having to stay away more than I thought.

Although, even if that remains an inconvenience, it never made our relationship weaker, it stayed the way it was, from the moment we met each other.

Even back then when we barely knew anything else about each other at the library, it didn’t take us much time to get along as if we were friends for years and not one week.

We’ve always had a strong relationship, it never really changed.

Work would eventually get in the way, and it’ll be okay. We would learn to adapt, and just live with it, and it really worked out to be fine, and not as bad as I thought.

I think that I was afraid at the beginning, when we just started dating. Mostly because I thought she wouldn’t appreciate my schedule, the fact that I would be away for one week, and go back to work only after two days, I thought she’d get tired of it, and realize that it wasn’t the kind of relationship that suited her.

I really turned out to be wrong. Five months later, we’re still together, and sometimes it’s almost as if we’re not five states away from the other.

Let’s hope we’ll get to have -at least- a week, it would be nice. It’s been a while since we had more than three days without the sound of my phone meaning vacation time was over.

Plus, we get to do something we don’t usually do as often as we’d like to. We’ve already gone to coffee shops, but it’s been a month or so since; so I’m really excited about that new mission of ours.

It’s another thing to add to the list of our numerous and diverses adventures I get to spend with her.

Let me know what you thought of this fic here!

The next and last part is coming on April 2nd/3rd (just so that the tags don’t get clogged)

#cm #cm fic #cm spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid cm #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds Spencer Reid #cm fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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ariainstars · 4 years ago

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Will Din Djarin and Grogu Have to Part?

Since this question has been discussed quite controversially in the fandom since the second season of The Mandalorian, here are my two cents about it.

Luke and Anakin

A subject my husband and I can’t agree upon 😉 is the character of Luke Skywalker. I always liked him, while my husband finds him annoying. But consider: Luke’s hotheadedness, his naivety, his obstinacy, are perfectly normal for a young man of nineteen or twenty. Given A New Hope’s roots in classic Western, Luke is the typical greenhorn, who tries to man it up but doesn’t know how to do it yet. Luke is a normal adolescent with dreams and ambitions. Remember how we see him playing with a toy skyhopper at his uncle’s homestead? He obviously feels safe there. His aunt and uncle later even sacrifice their lives rather than revealing to the Imperial stormtroopers where R2D2 is, because they know that Luke went in search of the droid, and they don’t want them to find him. Luke is a good boy though raw and green. In the end, his story is a success because he chooses to use his powers to save the ones he cares about, even when it’s a father who, except for saving his life at the last moment, never did anything good for him.

Now compare him to Anakin Skywalker, his father, at the same age: many fans define young Anakin as a whiny, arrogant brat and they’re not so wrong with that. Anakin comes over as an irritating person, much more so than his son, because he is emotionally stunted, having spent the last ten years being told to stifle his emotions and not to allow any personal attachment. Which blatantly failed: we see right away that his bond with Padmé is still intact although they didn’t meet in the meantime, and we witness him getting mad with fury and hatred when his mother has to die in that cruel, meaningless way when he could have saved her had he arrived just a little sooner. Young Anakin is unbalanced and frustrated because by now he knows his enormous powers but is not allowed to use them in a way that actually makes sense to him. Anakin is a family man: his instinct is to protect. But at age nineteen, thanks to the uncompassionate mindset of the oh-so wise Jedi, he already is a ticking bomb.

Now to Our New Heroes…

While the first season was about Mando’s redemption and hero’s journey, the second one thematizes the development of the child. Until now he hardly wielded the Force and most of the time he’s just being cute and getting into trouble, but that’s not simply bothersome, nor is it unfitting for the narrative: it’s normal. Grogu is being a child at last, because he can, and he can because someone is looking after him and genuinely caring for him.

Look at him: the little cookie monster is having a blast. He’s meeting people and making friends. He’s enjoying life (including food). He can let go, because he knows that “daddy” has his back. Literally!

Which is why I don’t believe that Grogu will choose to join some Jedi or other: it would be pointless for his story. Grogu has the chance to be the child he could not be until now, and since he thankfully ages slowly, he’s taking that chance. Like with his predecessor Yoda, there is more to Grogu than meets the eye: he understands more than he lets on. He’s making experiences, and he’s learning from these experiences. Instinctively, he wants Mando because he wants belonging. My take is that he will learn how to have healthy attachments, and that if he is to be the future Yoda in some distant new tv show or new trilogy, he will be very different from this one in that he won’t discourage Force-sensitive children from learning how to love other people in a proper way. Also, Yoda lived mostly at the Jedi temple, which from the outside reminded of an ivory tower and indeed did shield the Jedi from seeing many of the ugly things happening outside. Grogu is travelling: he witnesses the injustices in the galaxy with his own eyes.

One of the crucial messages of the Star Wars saga always was how wrong it is to separate families. Palpatine’s greatest villainy was making people who belonged together mistrust one another until they resorted to violence. What’s worse, he enjoyed it.

To remain in balance, children need to grow up serene and protected. Anakin, the Dark Father, was the most blatant example for this: his mere existence was a living proof for the Jedi’s failure. Terrified of his former padawan’s turn to the Dark Side, Obi-Wan set the seal on his fate right when Padmé was succeeding into making him go away with her. The Jedi was aware that Anakin was a husband and future father at this point, but the convictions of the Jedi had been so deeply ingrained into his mind since he was small that he believed them to be more important than Anakin’s role not as a Jedi, but as a human being. Still twenty years later, he tried to trick Anakin’s own son into killing him. Anakin’s soul was saved, though only by a hair’s breadth, due to his son’s stubborn compassion. Anakin had been willing to sacrifice everything to save his wife; Luke chose to rather give up his life than his integrity, which is why the moment when he throws his light sabre away before Palpatine is so significant, setting him apart from Anakin.

None of the surviving Jedi would have lifted a finger for Anakin: to them, he was a damned man. Which he was, but that was largely also due to the Jedi’s sins and not only his own. They never showed regret or assumed that they might have wronged him. The aim of both the prequel and sequel trilogy was not to excuse Darth Vader’s / Anakin Skywalker’s or Kylo Ren’s / Ben Solo’s terrible deeds, but to demonstrate that their fate could have been avoided; that they were not alone with their guilt but had been for a large part pushed into their role by their environment, instead of being, as the cliché runs, “mad guys who choose to be evil because they want power”, like e.g. in a James Bond movie. (Except of course for Palpatine, but even he got a second chance through Rey, equally powerful but much more well-meaning than him.)

Conclusions

The message of Star Wars is not about the all-powerful Jedi and the significance of their order: they are not some kind of superheroes who will return and save the galaxy. I daresay that who hopes to see Luke Skywalker, e.g. instructing Grogu, will be bitterly disappointed. If Luke would enter the narrative, the story would become about him, making the show’s set-up and title pointless. His story, the Hero’s Journey, was accomplished with Return of the Jedi, which is why George Lucas never wrote a continuation. Luke himself developed his capacities instinctively, both Obi-Wan and Yoda had little time to train him. (So much also for Rey being “a Mary Sue who knows how to wield her power without training”.) It obviously does not take years and years of learning at a Jedi temple to learn to wield one’s Force powers: it appears that what padawans are taught there, more than anything else, is how to control their feelings. Which is unrealistic on the long run, because every living being wishes for personal fulfilment and even the greatest Jedi can’t live solely for others.

Will the child’s Force abilities fade in time without training, the way Ahsoka said? They won’t. The show is set some 25 years after the fall of the Jedi Temple, and yet Grogu managed to make a mudhorn float in the air with his power. He was exhausted afterwards, but he managed. In another episode he healed Greef Karga from a mortal wound and he is the first Force-sensitive whom we ever saw with this capacity. In the next episode he rejected a fireball with his bare hands. The Force is strong with this one. He does not need a Jedi master to train him. What he needs is to develop a good judgement about what he should use his powers for, and when he should not.

The saga as a whole always showed a clear structure where the puzzle pieces fit together, adding up to one final picture: life is not about power but about love and belonging. Power can win, but that victory is always short-lived. Who chooses power over compassion in the end will always lose and have to look back on a destroyed world where there are only losses and bitter memories.

Ever from the first episode, The Mandalorian lived from the dynamics between the gruff but kind bounty-hunter and the innocent yet powerful child. At its core, it is a father-son relationship: tear them apart and the whole story ceases to make sense. By the beginning of season 2 Din Djarin and Grogu have grown so close that you could hardly fit a sheet of paper between them. Their story is not about rebuilding the Jedi order, it is about healing together, overcoming loneliness and trauma, starting a new life together.

Maybe they will be separated at the end of the second season, e.g. by Moff Gideon who wants the child for his despicable experiments: but if that happens, I can foretell what the next season will be about:

Mando will move heaven and hell to get “his” child back under his protection. Because contrarily to both Luke and Anakin, he is a father, and a good and devoted one at that.

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pitubea1910 · 4 years ago

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Happy to oblige

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Featuring: Avengers + Harry Styles (random, I know)

Word count: 7k

Warnings: some swearing

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: it’s been ages but I’m finally posting something again! Hope you like it :)

Masterlist

You were in love with your best friend and he had no idea. Cliché, right? Yes, you couldn’t deny it, but it was still frustrating and heartbreaking at the same time.

You and Bucky were inseparable since you two met. It turned out that you were the only person -besides Steve- who could keep him calm and, as a matter of a fact, he helped you get over the loss of your family during a terrorist attack that you couldn’t prevent.

After that day, he showed up at your room every day to check on you. He never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to. If you wanted to spend the day in bed, he could crawl in with you. If you wanted to cry, he could be your shoulder; if you wanted to scream, he would listen; if you needed to punch someone, he would be your adversary. It didn’t matter what you needed: he would give it to you.

It was kind of impossible not to fall for him, even if it was only one-sided. You had never told him how you felt, so you didn’t really know how he felt about you. However, Steve and Nat kept on insisting that he loved you back. You never believed them. It was easier that way. And, eventually, you got used to those feelings, they became a part of you and you learned to live with them while having him as a friend.

“You seriously aren’t going to tell him”, Natasha said when she watched you hug Bucky goodbye. He was leaving with Steve and Sam for a meeting with Tony and wouldn’t be back until later that night.

“How many times do we have to talk about it?” You said, stealing a few popcorns from her bowl.

“As many times as it takes you to tell him you love him”, she replied.

“Well, get comfortable then. I’m not telling him”, you shrugged.

“You are the most stubborn person I have ever met”, she sighed. “He loves you too! You could be living your perfect love story, having mind blowing sex every day and yet, you chose-”

“Friendship, Nat”, you interrupted her. “I chose friendship. Also, you don’t know if he loves me”, you added.

“Of course I do”, she said. “He told Steve.”

You were about to throw a popcorn in your mouth but stopped mid-way. You looked at her, not sure you had truly heard what she had just said.

“Excuse me?” You asked.

“Yeah”, she shrugged with a small smile. You narrowed your eyes at her.

Natasha was a great friend, but she was also really good at deceiving and you knew she would do anything in order to get you two together. Even lying about this.

“Don’t give me that look!” She said. “I promise I’m not lying. He told Steve at Clint’s birthday party. You were flirting with that guy from the bio team-”

“He was the one flirting with me!”

“Whatever. Bucky was drunk and got jealous, so he spilled the beans to Steve and I happened to be close enough to listen to him”, she shrugged.

“Clint’s party was weeks ago! Why didn’t you tell me?” You frowned.

“I thought he would tell you, to be honest. I never thought he would be so slow”, she said with a roll of her eyes. “Too much for a super soldier, huh? Take down terrorists, put himself in the middle of a battlefield, but sharing his feelings it’s too much.”

“Natasha, this is not funny”, you warned her. “If you’re lying…”

“I’m not!” She exclaimed. “Anyway, it’s not like you can say anything. If you did, you would have to admit that I told you and they would know I had been eavesdropping and I would look like a major gossip.”

“And your reputation is way more important than your friend’s happiness?” You asked.

“Five minutes ago you were refusing to come clean, so don’t try and make me feel bad”, she said.

You looked at her for a few seconds before grabbing another handful of popcorn and getting out of the living room. Was she saying the truth or was everything a trap to make you confess your feelings to Bucky? Her story seemed too real to be a lie, and you remembered Bucky’s strange behaviour during Clint’s party. Back then, you thought he was just drunk, but maybe he was really jealous.

You had to find out the truth without exposing Nat. Although you had no idea how to do it.

That night, you came back downstairs after spending the afternoon in your room trying to come up with a way of discovering if Bucky truly had feelings for you. You didn’t have a proper plan, but you had a few ideas. What you didn’t expect was that it would be Tony the one to give you the perfect plan without even knowing it.

“Is everyone back?” You asked Natasha, who was still on the couch, now reading a magazine.

“Yeah, they came back a while ago. Steve is making dinner”, she said.

“Oh God”, you mumbled. “Are you ordering pizza, then?”

“Yeah, I have the order ready on my phone. Check it out in case you want to add anything”, she said.

You took a seat next to Nat and took her phone, doing as she had said. To be honest, Steve was one of the best people you had ever met, but he was a complete disaster in the kitchen. He knew it, but he kept on trying. And failing. So it was always good to have a backup plan whenever he decided to make dinner.

“And Bucky is talking to Tony, by the way”, Natasha commented. You glanced at her but made no comment.

“Bullshit, Stark. I’m not doing it!” You heard an angry Bucky saying.

When you looked up from Nat’s phone, you saw him coming up from Tony’s lab, with a smirking Tony closely following. You sighed and looked at Nat, who just shook her head. It was common knowledge that Tony enjoyed messing with Bucky, so you barely paid attention to their little quarrels anymore.

“C’mon, it’s not a bit of a deal. We will all do it”, Tony said. This time, you were curious.

“Do what?” You asked from your spot on the couch.

“We have been invited to a premiere”, Tony shrugged.

“That’s cool!” You smiled.

“What?” Bucky frowned.

“What’s wrong about a premiere?” Natasha asked.

“Interviews”, you finally said with a chuckle. “It’s impossible for us to make an appearance in such a public event and not get interviewed. And someone here”, you looked at Bucky, “hates cameras, mics and interviews.”

“Plus, it’s not even for a good movie”, Bucky mumbled.

“Dunkirk premiere in London”, Tony shrugged. “Nolan called and invited us.”

“You’re friends with Christopher Nolan?” You asked shocked.

“Oh please. I’m his daughter’s godfather”, Tony said.

“Well, I’m in”, you immediately said.

“Of course you are”, Steve said coming out of the kitchen. “Harry Styles is on that movie so he’ll be at the premiere”, he winked.

“I never mentioned him”, you smiled widely.

“Who’s that?” Bucky frowned.

“Oh boy…” Natasha said in a whisper.

“(Y/N)’s celebrity crush”, Steve quickly said. “Nat, can you please order pizza? I burned the chicken.”

“On its way”, Natasha said taking her phone and placing the order.

“So, you’re in?” Tony asked.

“Of course!” You said with a huge smile. “I mean… the trailer looks amazing and I love London.”

“Yeah…, London”, Natasha mumbled.

You smiled to yourself but decided not to say anything else, especially since you felt Bucky staring at you which made you feel nervous and, for the first time, you allowed yourself to think that Natasha had told you the truth.

During the following days, there were still several fights about the premiere. Most of them between Bucky and someone else. For some reason, he still refused to go, which was stupid. Eventually, it just became exhausting to keep on listening to same excuses over and over again

“Bucky, no one is forcing you to come, for god’s sake!” You finally said the night before you all were travelling to London.

You were having dinner all together, as usual, and Bucky was complaining to Steve about how he didn’t like being in public, cameras, dressing up and all that ‘Hollywood shit’. You had had enough of him by now and you just wanted to have a nice dinner. Yet, everyone was surprised to hear you snap at him.

“Excuse me?” He asked frowned.

“You’ve been complaining for the whole fucking week, like a child who’s been forced to go to his great aunt’s birthday”, you said, everyone looking at you. “We are all excited about this trip, about having a distraction, about not being superheroes for just one. Fucking. Day. So if you don’t want to come just because someone might want to interview you, if you think it is so annoying, so shallow, just stay here!”

No one said a word after you finished talking, not even Bucky who usually had a reply for everything. You huffed and looked at your plate, just to find out that you had lost your appetite. Throwing one last glare at Bucky, you excused yourself and got up from the table, claiming you still had so clothes to pack.

You didn’t understand what had got into Bucky. Yeah, you knew he wasn’t comfortable around cameras, that he didn’t like being in the spotlight, but he never complained so much about it, so you didn’t get what was so annoying about this particular situation. Whatever it was, it was getting on your nerves. But no one was going to spoil this experience. Not even your stupid, whinny, alleged best friend.

“Hey…”

A while later, when you had finally finished packing, there was a knock on your door and Nat’s head popped in.

“Can I come in?” She asked and you nodded, sitting up on your bed and putting your phone down. “You okay? That was quite unexpected down there.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry”, you shrugged. “I just got tired of his whinning.”

“Still, you had never snapped like that before”, she said, taking a seat on your bed.

“Yes, I have”, you laughed.

“Not at him”, she pointed out.

You opened your mouth to reply, but maybe she was right, so you just shrugged and looked down.

“I don’t know, it just annoyed me”, you finally said. “I’m so excited about this trip, going to London, the premiere, everything, and it felt like he was kind of ruining it with all his complaining. I don’t even know why he’s acting like that.”

“I think I may know”, Nat said with a small smile.

“Enlighten me, please”, you sighed.

“He’s jealous”, she simply said. You raised an eyebrow, not knowing what she was talking about. “The day after Tony told us about the premiere, I found Bucky doing some research on Harry Styles.”

“What?” You asked even more confused.

“Steve mentioned him, remember? That he will be at the premiere and that you have a crush on him”, she explained.

“So what? I have a crush on half of Hollywood”, you laughed. That was true. You were such a fangirl.

“Yeah, but you haven’t met half of Hollywood”, she shrugged.

“Nat, that doesn’t make any sense”, you said. “Why would he be jealous of someone I haven’t even met and someone I don’t even know if I will meet.”

“Oh, you will meet him”, Nat nodded. “I’ll make sure of that, don’t worry.” You laughed but said nothing, since you knew she could really make that happen. “And he’s jealous because he is in love with you. I already told you.

“Okay, I’m not having that conversation again”, you said. “I’m going to sleep, we have an early morning and a long flight tomorrow. So goodnight.”

“Are you kicking me out?” She asked, acting offended.

“Yes, Black Widow. Get out of my room and close the door on your way out”, you said, kicking her back gently.

“You know I’m the only one standing between you and a marriage with Harry Styles, right?” She said getting up from your bed.

“Yeah, you and a billion of other girls. Go!”

Next day you and Steve were the first ones to be ready and were already waiting by the mini van that would take you to the airport, where Tony’s private jet was waiting for you. As usual, everyone else was running late, which was extremely annoying to Steve. It was annoying for you too, but you had got used to it.

“They are waiting for us. We were supposed to be at the plane 10 minutes ago”, he said.

“We could just go and leave them here”, you shrugged. “That would teach them something.”

“As tempting as that sounds…” Steve said, making you laugh.

Finally, you heard people coming down the stairs, so you took your things from the floor, glad that you would be on your way. Wanda and Natasha were the first ones to show up, apologising over and over again and coming up with lame excuses that you had heard a million times before. To your surprise, Bucky was just behind them.

You hadn’t talked to him since last night, when you snapped at him, but you had seriously thought that he would stay behind, sulking. And yet, there he was, carrying a travel bag over his shoulder and looking as he had to go to war again.

“Where’s the rest?” Steve asked.

“Tony was just talking on the phone with the pilot, telling him we would be there in 30 minutes.” Steve huffed, obviously annoyed. “I know”, Natasha chuckled.

“Clint and Bruce called last night”, Wanda said. “They can’t make it. Clint’s wife has the flu and Bruce can’t leave the lab right now. They’re working on some healing serum.”

“Oh and Thor will meet us there”, Natasha added. “He sent a message and said he will be using the Bifrost. Parker has homework and we couldn’t contact anyone else.”

“Good”, Steve nodded.

“I’m going to the groceries store down the street to get some snacks. See you in a moment”, Wanda said.

“I’m coming with you”, Steve said. “I’m sick of waiting.”

“Me too! I want to get some magazines”, Natasha said.

You asked Steve to get you some of your favourite candy and soda. Although you knew you would have plenty on the plane, it was a long flight. The three of them left, leaving you and Bucky alone and in silence.

“So you decided to come?” You finally asked.

“I’ve never been to a premiere before, so”, he shrugged. “A new experience I guess”, he added.

“You could’ve started with that instead of whining about it for the whole week”, you said.

“Sorry about that”, he sighed. “I didn’t want to ruin it for anyone. I was being a jerk.”

“You think?” You said with irony and looked at him. He actually looked sorry, so you sighed and smiled a little. “I’m glad you’re coming.”

Bucky’s face lit up with a smile, obviously glad that you weren’t mad at him anymore. It was one of the few things he couldn’t stand: the thought of not having you in his life. For the first time in a few days, he came close to you and pulled you in for a hug, kissing your head in the process.

Everyone knew that Bucky wasn’t the hugging type, but you had always been the exception. He loved having you in his arms, cuddling with you, hugging you. It made him feel safe, home, and he had been through hell the last few days without your contact.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Tony said rushing downstairs. “The pilot said we have a really small window of time if we want to leave before noon. Where’s everyone?”

“They went to get some snacks. They said they would be waiting in the van”, you explained.

“Perfect, let’s go then. You can go back to your cuddling on the plane. You can even have a private room”, he said rushing into the elevator.

You rolled your eyes, but followed him anyway. You were used to his comments, even if they still made blush every single time.

***

Lights, cameras, excitement, screams, noise. Those were the words to describe the moment you got out of the car at Leicester Square. The place was completely packed, surrounded by screaming fans, reporters, photographers or just curious people who happen to go by the Square on that fine summer afternoon.

The red carpet followed all the way from where the cars were arriving, to the doors of the Odeon theatre, creating a path where you could see the actors, producers and anyone who had been invited coming up and down, saying their hellos to those they knew or stopping for photos and interviews. It was exciting.

Since you had been the first one to get into the car, you were the last one to get out of it and stand next to Wanda and Natasha. Steve, Bucky, Tony and Thor came in the following car. However, at the sight of you, there was a raise in the volume of the screams. It looked like your presence was a complete surprise for everyone.

“Should we go on?” You asked.

“Let’s wait for the rest”, Natasha said, smiling at some girls screaming her name.

You were aware of people knowing who you were, you knew you were on the news many times and you had seen some fan accounts about yourself. But you had never been exposed like this and you had to say that the energy was exhilarating.

“Get ready for the screams”, Wanda said when the guys’ car pull over behind you

You three took a step aside, so they could come out comfortably and waited. The reaction when Steve first came out of the car was out of this world. You could literally feel the ground beneath your feet shaking a little bit. And it only escalated when Thor, Bucky and, finally, Tony followed the Captain.

“Wow”, Steve said coming closer to you with a small smile.

“I know”, you chuckled looking around before focusing on Bucky, who was a bit stiff but looked at handsome as ever.

Since you had been running late, you hadn’t had the time to see him before leaving but he was… hot. He was wearing a pair of black trousers, a black open blazer revealing a white shirt that fit him perfectly. He had let Tony’s stylist to get his hair ready, giving it a ‘just woke up’ look that really suited him.

“Hey there”, you said coming closer to him. He looked down at you and gave you a forced smile. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better”, he admitted. “But I’ll be okay.”

“Call my name if you need me”, you said, squeezing his hand gently before turning around.

“(Y/N)!” You heard him calling. You turned around, confused. “I need you”, he said with a small childish smile.

“Idiot”, you said with a small smile. “I think you can make it through the carpet without me”, you winked.

Bucky looked at you walking away, holding onto Wanda’s arm as you stopped for your first interview. He couldn’t help smiling as he took in how good you looked. You were wearing a long white jumpsuit that hugged your body perfectly and brought out the tan that you had got over the days of summer you had spent at the beach just last week. Its back was open, which –for Bucky- made you look even better.

Above all, you were happy and it was obvious. You couldn’t stop smiling, laughing, charming everyone, especially Bucky.

“You’re drooling, soldier”, Thor said, taking Bucky out of his trance.

“What?” He asked.

“She looks stunning indeed”, Thor nodded. “I would make a move before anyone else does.”

The God of Thunder patted his back and was on his way. Maybe he was right. But he wouldn’t even know what to say if he gathered the courage to talk to you. For the time being, all he could do was move along the carpet and hope this all was over soon.

It wasn’t like you were the biggest fan of interviews, but you were good at them. You knew how to avoid personal questions and how not to give much information about anything. You were charming, polite and kind with everyone, laughing at their jokes and making your own. Summing up: you knew how to make people love you.

“Thank you for your time, enjoy the movie!” The reporter from The Guardian said.

“Thank you, have a nice evening”, you said back and turned around to talk to Wanda, but she was busy talking to some guy you had never seen.

“You’re a natural”, Natasha said, walking up to you when she finished taking some photos.

“Tony gave me some tips”, you shrugged. “I just did the opposite of what he told me.”

Natasha laughed out loud, but before she had the time to say anything, the screaming grew even louder. You both looked at the beginning of the carpet, where a black Mercedes had just stopped and a black haired boy had come out. He was talking to a really big guy so he wasn’t facing your way, but you knew who he was immediately.

“Pinch me”, you mumbled to Natasha.

“What?” She asked confused and looked at you. “Oh…”

Harry Styles had just turned around and was walking towards the carpet, followed by who probably was his bodyguard. You had been a One Direction fan for years and had had a crush on this person since the beginning. You had even been to some of their concerts –both in the band and as a solo artist-, but you had never had him so close before.

“Are you blushing?” Natasha laughed when she looked at you.

“What? No, I’m not!” You said, placing your hands on your cheeks. “Am I?”

“Either that or you used too much blush”, she said with a smile.

“Shut up”, you said. “Let’s just keep going before we look like idiots.”

“We?”

“Can you just be a bit more supportive?” You said. Just then, Wanda was back with you.

“Now I know why you have a crush on him”, she said with a smile. “He’s hot.”

“Shut up! Both of you”, you said and walked away from them before they continued teasing you.

For the next half hour of the premiere you were completely unfocused. So much that you decided to talk with as less reporters as possible, convinced that you would look like a fool if you did. Every few minutes, the volume of the screaming would go up, meaning that some other actor of the movie had made an appearance. You truly thought you would faint when you saw Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy together.

“Enjoying yourself?” Steve asked when he caught you alone after you were taking some photos.

“Pretty much, yeah”, you nodded. “You?”

“Yeah”, he said looking around. “We don’t get to do this often, so it’s a nice change.”

“(Y/N), Captain! Can we please get some photos?” A reporter said.

“Duty calls” you said with a smile as Steve placed a hand around your waist, to pose for the cameras.

“Finally, I find you!”

You turned around and suddenly felt your hands all sweaty when you saw Natasha coming up to you, followed by Wanda and –of course- Harry. You glared at her, having no idea what she was doing.

“There’s someone here who wants to meet you”, your alleged friend said with a huge smile.

“Hello there”, Harry said with a charming smile.

You had heard his voice and his accents on videos before but you swore it was even deeper than ever before. You took a deep breath and looked briefly at your friends, who slowly stepped away with small smirks on their faces.

“Hi”, you said, a smile appearing on your lips. “Really nice to meet you.”

“Likewise”, he said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Turns out that Nolan is friends with Tony Stark so…”, you shrugged.

“Well, I’ve been wanting to meet you for ages, so I’m glad he invited you all”, the singer said.

“You wanted to meet me? Why?” You laughed.

“You’re kidding me?” He smiled. “You’re an Avenger!”

You laughed a little and nodded to yourself. You guessed he had a point. You had been crushing on him for ages, but you had never thought of the possibility of him actually knowing who you were. And now that he was right there, in front of you, admitting to be your fan, you had no idea what to do.

Just like Bucky.

He had been watching the whole interaction from afar and he could feel his blood on fire. The only reason Bucky had decided to join the trip, was that he needed to see this guy. Your celebrity crush who you were laughing with. He clenched his fists and looked at all the cameras pointing at you two. Of course. You looked great together. You were both young, good looking, obviously charming. He had been around long enough to know that the public would pair you up immediately.

“You shouldn’t stare”, Steve said, coming to his side.

“I’m not”, Bucky mumbled.

“If it was possible, there would be a hole on that guy’s face”, Steve laughed. “They’re just talking. Calm down.”

“I’m calmed”, Bucky said. Steve sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What?”

“Do you realise that you have no right to be like this, don’t you?”

“Why not? Am I supposed to be okay with a British good looking guy just… charming her away from me?”

“No”, Steve replied. “But you have never told her how you feel, so she’s free to do whatever she wants.”

“You’re the one who never shuts up about her feelings for me”, Bucky said.

“So? You’ve never made a move, do you really expect her to wait forever?” Steve asked. “They’re just talking though”, he added with a shrug before walking away.

“Yeah… just talking”, Bucky sighed.

As much as he hated to admit it, Steve was right. Bucky couldn’t claim you anything. You didn’t even know how he felt about you, how he wanted more than just a friendship, how your smile would make his heart skip a beat and how not being able to kiss you was physically painful. And he hated himself for taking him so long to realise it. What if you were ready to move on?

“C’mon, this is your debut movie and you’ve worked with Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy! Those are goals”, you said with a smile.

“You literally save lives for a living”, Harry replied and, to be honest, there was nothing you could say about that.

“I guess we’re both pretty awesome”, you said, making him laugh.

Just then, a man with a clipboard approached Harry from behind and said something in his ear. Harry nodded and looked at you.

“I have to go. They’re going to introduce the cast and everything”, he explained.

“Of course! Go”, you said with a nod.

“Talk to you later? We’ll have an after party, you should all come”, he said. You smiled and nodded. “Perfect. Here…” he gave you his phone. “Put your number in and I’ll text you.”

Without actually believing what was happening, you did as he told you and gave his phone back. He winked and left quickly towards the end of the carpet, where a stage had been set.

“Enjoying yourself?” You turned around to find Bucky behind you.

“Absolutely”, you smiled widely. “Although I’m freaking out.”

“Yeah, I saw you talking to that guy you like”, he said, looking at Harry who had just got to the stage.

There was something about his tone that you didn’t like. It was like he was accusing you of something, which you didn’t appreciate. He had no right to do so.

“If you have something to say, just say it”, you said crossing your arms over your chest.

“It just looks like you’re getting plenty of attention, that’s all”, he shrugged casually. Although you knew him well enough to know there was nothing casual about how he was behaving.

“Not from the only one that would matter”, you said and turned around without giving him a chance to think about what you had said.

Bucky kept his eyes on you while you walked away, trying to understand what you had just said and what it meant. Were you talking about him? Was he the one who mattered or was his mind playing games? He had no idea. All he knew was that you were upset with him and he knew he had been acting like a jerk for quite some time now.

Maybe Steve was right. Maybe you were tired of waiting. Maybe you were moving on.

***

Bucky’s attitude really pushed your buttons so much that you decided to keep your distance during the rest of the evening. He had been a total jerk since the moment Tony told you all about the premiere. You thought that the change of scenario would change his mind and he would relax. Obviously, you had been wrong.

The movie was everything you expected and more. It kept you on edge the whole time. The whole crew had done an outstanding job. It was definitely one of the best movies you had watched lately. And the whole situation of being one of the first people to watch it, only made it more special.

Before you could suggest going to the after party that Harry had mentioned –and already texted you about it-, Nolan himself invited you. So the moment the movie finished, you went on your way. It wasn’t far from Leicester Square, but it was still safer to go in the cars so no one would know where you were going and could have some privacy.

“So? Did you like it?”

Just when you walked into the party, Harry approached you, taking you by surprise.

“I loved it!” You said smiling widely. “And you were amazing”, you added.

“Thank you”, he nodded. “I’m proud of it, to be honest.”

“You really should be”, you said, biting your lip a little.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked, pointing at the bar at the end of the place.

“Please!”

Bucky observed the two of you walking towards the bar. He sighed and walked down the few steps that were next to the door. He was feeling more and more like an idiot since you walked away from him at the premiere, and he was still thinking about what you had said.

“You okay?” Natasha asked, showing up with a drink in her hand and another one for him.

“Thanks”, he said, taking the glass from her. “I’m okay, just…”, he sighed and pointed at you and Harry, who were talking and laughing at the bar.

“Oh…” Natasha smirked and looked at Bucky. “She’s having fun, don’t you think?”

“Why did you introduce them?” Bucky asked, turning away from the bar, so he could get that image out of his mind.

“She wanted to meet him but would have never introduced herself”, she said. “I just helped a little.”

“Thanks for nothing, then”, Bucky said.

“If you like her, go and tell her”, she said. “But don’t expect her to wait around forever when you have never made a move to let her know how you feel.”

“And how does she feel? Am I supposed to just jump into the swimming pool without knowing if there’s water?” Bucky asked.

“If you still don’t know that the pool is overflowing, then you’re even blinder than I thought you were”, Natasha said.

Bucky sighed and ran a hand over his head. Why did it have to be so complicated?

“What would you do?” He finally asked. As much as he hated asking for advice, he was completely lost.

“Me? I would go across the room and kiss her”, she simply said. “But given she’s busy talking to someone and also mad at you, I wouldn’t advice it.”

“Then?”

“I would talk to her and tell her how I feel”, she said. “Not as dramatic as a surprise kiss, but still honest and useful.”

Bucky sighed and turned slightly to look at you two again. When he didn’t see you, he started looking around like crazy. Where were you?

***

“I really was starving”, you said as you and Harry walked down the street with a burger each.

“Why didn’t you eat anything before the premiere?” He asked before taking a bite from his burger.

“It was the cinema. I thought we would get popcorns, to be honest”, you admitted, making him laugh so hard he almost choked. “Don’t laugh!” You said, although you were laughing as well.

“You’re adorable”, he said, making you blush a little.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go indoors?” You asked once again. You didn’t want him to be on every page tomorrow, especially because of you.

“Don’t worry about it”, he said. “I’m having a good time.”

“Me too”, you admitted. Then, you felt your phone vibrating into your purse. “Give me a second.”

Harry took your burger so you could get your phone out. It surprised you to see Bucky’s name on the screen. Your first impulse was to pick it up, but then you remembered that you were still mad at him and decided to decline the call. You turned your phone off, shoved it back into your purse and took your burger back from Harry.

“Everything okay?” He asked concerned.

“It was Bucky just being annoying”, you said.

“I kind of saw how he kept on looking at you”, he said. You looked at him surprised.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Let’s say he has a really deathly glare”, he said with a chuckle. “If looks could kill, I would be ten feet under by now.”

“What? No”, you laughed.

“Trust me, I know what I saw”, Harry said. “He likes you.”

You frowned but said nothing about it. It was one thing having Natasha telling you about Bucky’s feelings. But if even Harry, a person who had zero contact with any of you, who knew nothing of you or Bucky, had seen that… then maybe Natasha never lied and Bucky did have feelings for you.

That thought would have filled you with joy at any other moment. But thinking about it now, it only made you angry and frustrated. Why did he have to be such an idiot if he had feelings for you? Why couldn’t he just make a move? Or where you supposed to just take a leap of faith?

“Sorry. I said too much”, Harry said after a moments of silence.

“No, no”, you quickly said. “Everything’s okay. It’s just…” you sighed.

“Do you have feelings for him?” He asked. You laughed bitterly. “What?”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. My celebrity crush since I was 17”, you said. This time, Harry laughed quietly.

“Don’t worry”, he said. “I knew you were out of my league since I saw you and now I understand why.”

“Me? Out of your league?” You asked shocked and he nodded.

“There’s no competition if you already love someone else, don’t you think?” He asked with a smile.

“Am I that obvious?” You said defeated.

“I’m observant”, he shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just don’t get him”, you said. “We’ve been best friends for ages and I’ve loved him all along without saying anything. I got used to idea of just being his friend and the second I mention someone else, someone who I hadn’t even met yet, and he starts acting like a total jerk. If he have feelings for me, why doesn’t he just say so?”

“Sadly, sometimes we have to see those we love walk away in order to know how much we care”, Harry said. “I think you should talk to him.”

“And say what? That I know he has feelings for me because my crush suspects it?” You asked sarcastically.

“Well… that’s an option”, he said, making you laugh. “But I would just be honest and tell him how I feel.”

You sighed but didn’t reply. You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation with Harry Styles, the guy you had admired most in your entire life, the guy you had fantasied about meeting a thousand times. And there he was, giving you romantic advice on how to talk to your best friend. Life was nuts.

***

Bucky was going nuts. The moment he had walked around the party twice, not finding you anywhere, he had stepped outside to call you. And he got sent to voicemail. Over and over again. You didn’t just hang up on him, you had also turned your phone off. He was fuming.

Without saying a word to anyone, he took a taxi and went back to the hotel where you were staying. At some point, you had to come back, and he would be waiting for you just at your door. While he waited, he tried to call you at least five times without any success, he was filling your voicemail with nonsense but he didn’t care.

“I swear it, (Y/N), if you don’t pick up the damn phone”, he said on the phone, “I will-“

“You will what?” Your voice said behind him.

He turned around to find you standing there, as beautiful as ever, with the card of your room in your hand, and looking at him with a deadly look in your eyes.

“Where have you been? Where did you go?” He asked, putting his phone down and ignoring your question.

“Last time I checked, you’re not my father, so I don’t have to explain myself to you”, you said, walking to your door.

“You were with him, right? That British singer”, he said while you opened the door.

“So what if I was?” You asked walking in. You considered slamming the door shut, but you knew him well enough to know that he had no problem breaking in, so you just left the door open for him.

“You just met him”, he said, walking in behind you and closing the door.

“What does that even mean?” You asked, throwing the purse on your bed and turning to face him. “Yes, I left with him to have dinner, so what?”

“Something could have happened”, he said with a shrug.

“Something like what? He could have kissed me?” You asked. You could see him flinching at the word. “What’s the problem, James?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. You would only call him James when you were really mad at him.

“Did he? Kiss you?” He asked.

“What if he had?” You asked.

“Did he?”

You looked at him in the eye, feeling yourself getting angrier by the second. All you wanted was to scream in his face how much you loved him, that he was the only one you wanted to kiss, that you had spent the whole fucking night thinking about him and talking about him to someone else. Instead, you shook your head and sat down on your bed to take off your heels. Your feet were killing you.

“You haven’t replied”, he said.

“Neither have you”, you said.

“I asked first”, he shrugged. Without even thinking about it, you threw one of your shoes at him. “Hey! What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” You asked getting up, now barefoot. “What’s your problem? Why can’t you just be clear? Just say what the fuck you’re thinking instead of being a jerk!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, he said, looking away from you. Narrowing your eyes, you took a step closer.

“Do you love me?” You finally asked.

“You know I do”, he said, his heart beating faster.

“Don’t bullshit me, James. You know what I mean”, you said. “Are you in love with me?”

Bucky took a deep breath and closed his eyes, not answering your question. The words were burning in his throat, and yet he couldn’t say them out loud.

“Fucking hell, Bucky!” You almost yelled, pushing him away. “Can’t you even talk? Just say no, for fuck’s sake! I can take it, you know? It’s not that hard to be honest for once in your fucking life. If you’re not in love in with me, if you don’t love me, just leave me be! Stop being an asshole and let me kiss and like whoever I want!”

“I can’t”, he said.

“You can’t what? Stop being an asshole? I noticed, thank you”, you said.

“I can’t just leave you be!” He exclaimed, looking at you. “Because it kills me, okay? I’d rather go through a thousand battles and getting a billion injuries, traumas and brainwashes before seeing you with someone else, okay?”

You looked at each other in the loudest silence you had ever experienced.

“You…” he sighed. “You are everything to me, don’t you see? I’ve been miserable for the whole week and the only way I know how to handle it is being an asshole. And maybe I’m late, maybe I should’ve spoken sooner, maybe I should’ve gone across the room and kiss you in front of everyone, but I am here now and I’m saying it now.” He placed his hands on your cheeks. “I love you, (Y/N). I am in love with you. Hopelessly. I love you so much it drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”

“And you have to be a jerk to show it? Couldn’t you just kiss me and get it over with?” You mumbled, looking into his blue eyes with tears in your eyes.

“You were kind of busy all night”, he said. “I’m a jerk, but I’m a polite jerk.”

You laughed a little and moved your hands to his chest, wondering if what he was saying was real and if it was just another one of your dreams.

“You could kiss me now”, you shrugged.

Bucky smiled a little and you bit your lip when he leaned over slightly, taking in your whole face before closing his eyes. Immediately, you felt his lips on yours and your mouth opened to receive him as he pulled you closer. The whole world around you disappeared and all you could feel and smell was Bucky. Nothing else mattered.

“I’m sorry it took me so long”, he whispered when you pulled away.

“You’re forgiven”, you smiled a little and rubbed his cheek. “By the way… he didn’t kiss me”, you said.

“Really?” He asked, sounding really surprised.

“Yeah”, you laughed. “We were just talking about you, to be honest”, you admitted.

“Wow…you really missed the chance of making out with your crush for me…” he teased. “You must really love me, huh?”

“Shut up”, you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss. And, for once, Bucky was happy to oblige.

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deborahdeshoftim5779 · 4 years ago

Text

Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality (Part III)

Following on from Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality Part I and Part II, here’s Part III.

CLAIM 5 #: Merlin thinks fighting is meaningless violence

Merlin certainly claimed it-- but his actions told a different story.

It took me a long time to understand that Merlin was in fact very similar to Arthur. This realisation came while rewatching episodes 5x03 and 5x04 in particular; in the latter episode, Merlin admitted to Arthur that if someone had murdered his father, he would probably have sought vengeance. Yet we know that Merlin hated vengeance, and that he had physically intervened to stop Arthur from yielding to said vengeance.

This led me to see how Arthur and Merlin’s friendship became a coping mechanism to deal with the loss of their respective family (literally and figuratively).

One key way that Merlin is similar to Arthur is that he, too, pretends not to like something in public, while his actions speak differently.

Hence why Merlin loved claiming that fighting was pointless, that it was just “sweaty men knocking the sense out of each other” (episode 4x09), and appeared not to enjoy training sessions. Episode 1x02 had a hilarious and undoubtedly genuine example of Merlin abhorring the art of war, as he struggled to hold his weaponry, tripped, tumbled, and probably ended up with tinnitus! “D’you you hear clanging?”

I used to think this change occurred much later, but episode 1x02 showed Merlin eagerly watching the tournament just one day after he complained about having to learn more fighting techniques and about being Arthur’s servant.

Also, after being pilloried for being clumsy with Arthur’s armour, the first thing Merlin did was to seek Gwen’s assistance. Look how proud he was later, when he put everything on correctly. “That was much better,” Arthur said, to which Merlin responded, “I’m a fast learner.”

This suggests that, being a resourceful person who lands on his feet, Merlin quickly realised that he would have to learn about warfare if he was to make his way in Camelot.

I already have a lengthy post proving that Merlin had excellent capabilities in battle, and that Arthur had potentially trained him better than his knights. See the link below this post.

However, the greatest evidence that Merlin respected the art of war was his insistence that Arthur stand up and fight to reclaim Camelot. This occurred chiefly in episode 3x13, when Arthur was discouraged by Morgana’s treachery, and in episode 4x13, when Arthur completely lost hope and abdicated the throne.

In both episodes, Merlin helped take back Camelot not only using magic, but also with the sword. Notice that in episode 3x13, Sir Lancelot never questioned Merlin’s ability with a sword. Instead, he was impressed by its powers. As far as Lancelot was concerned, Merlin was “the one Arthur should knight. You’re the bravest of us all and he doesn’t even know it.” So Lancelot knew that Merlin was a capable fighter, and would embody the noble warrior so admired in Camelot.

Ironically, Lancelot did not live to see Merlin dressed as a knight in 4x05 during the mission to trap King Caerleon.

Of course, we have an example from Merlin’s own mouth: “You’re a great warrior,” he said to Arthur in episode 1x13. In episode 3x01, he was impressed by Arthur fighting blindfolded against two opponents, though he quickly tried pretending that he had “seen better”. In episode 3x04, he laughed at Dagr’s threats against Arthur: “I’d like to see you try!” Then he tried persuading Gwaine to stay in Camelot on the basis that, “You and Arthur: you fought well together.” During that episode, Merlin was impressed by Gwaine’s fighting before and during the mêlée.

In episode 5x05, he watched Arthur duelling against Mordred unarmed, then stood up to applaud the king. We can safely assume this occurred many times, since Merlin attends all training sessions and is responsible for maintaining all of Arthur’s armour. Many scenes, such as in episodes 4x05, 4x09, and 5x03, show him either polishing or putting on Arthur’s armour.

So why all of Merlin’s dismissive comments? For one thing, he didn’t like the braggadocio and arrogance of many knights-- or those who would wish to be knights. Hence why he called Valiant a “creep” in episode 1x02, much to Arthur’s amusement. Secondly, he did not see the point of certain tournaments, such as that of episode 3x11. It didn’t help that Arthur said, “The only rule is: there are no rules.” Thirdly, the death toll alarmed him. “Cause last time this tournament was held, three men died... That was just on the first day.” (Also episode 3x11.)

Another reason that hit me while rereading this: Merlin wasn’t naturally good at fighting. Remember that Arthur said, “I’ve been trained to kill since birth.” (Episode 1x01) This suggests some natural talent on his part, though greatly improved with hard work. Meanwhile, Merlin not only fumbled with weaponry, but faced merciless teasing from Arthur about his lack of skill. To compensate for his feelings of incompetence, Merlin linked Arthur’s fighting prowess to his arrogance: “How long have you been training to be a prat?” (Episode 1x01)

While he had a good point, it was also a way to dismiss his inexperience with fighting and other facts of life. We have to remember that he came from a tiny, poor village. Camelot could have been another planet.

Despite all this, when it came to watching Arthur train, watching Arthur train his knights, and, most importantly, fighting to defend Camelot, Merlin had nothing but respect for the art of war.

CLAIM #6: Arthur (mostly/always) needed Merlin to make big decisions

Untrue, as the following examples will demonstrate.

By the way, Merlin helped fuel this idea that his decisions were necessary for Arthur’s rule. In episode 4x11, he asked Gaius whether he should do anything to cause Arthur and Gwen’s reconciliation. Gaius rightly asked, “You don’t think that’s a little arrogant?”

In episode 3x07, Arthur decided to rescue Gwen’s brother-- a complete stranger-- from the Castle of Fyrien. Just one episode later, he succeeded at the majority of his quest in the Perilous Lands despite being enchanted to lose his energy. Needless to say, the choice of retrieving the trident of the Fisher King was Arthur’s alone, made after a night of contemplation.

Another great example comes from episode 4x05, where Arthur repented of his wrongdoing to Caerleon and his kingdom, and refused to make his men risk their lives on his account. He then took matters into his own hands, pleading with Queen Annis to invoke the right of single combat.

In episode 4x06, Arthur only told a few people that he was riding through the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Merlin wasn’t one of those people, hence why he said, “Arthur. You are not serious...Nothing good ever happens in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Nobody in their right mind would go in there.”

How come Merlin didn’t know? Arthur said, “The routes are secret, Merlin: that’s why *we* chose it.” Emphasis my own. Later, we discover that Arthur had discussed this with his council, a select number of knights, and Agravaine.

My favourite example comes from episode 4x11. Arthur negotiated with a longstanding rival, Nemeth, over the status of the lands of Gedref. We cannot underestimate that achievement. Arthur said that the lands have “long been in dispute”, and when he announced the end of their negotiations, the knights looked extremely nervous. Arthur had to allay their fears by calling it a “fair and honourable agreement”. That may have been a polite way of saying that they had avoided humiliating sacrifices and war.

On top of that, Arthur sealed the treaty by securing an engagement to the Princess of Nemeth-- exactly the kind of political savvy that his father had encouraged. “Your marriage should have been used to form an alliance with another kingdom…” (Episode 5x03.)

The first thing Merlin said was, “How come I didn’t know any of this? How come you didn’t say anything?” I will not go into why Merlin’s reaction here was presumptuous and arrogant, but we can see that Arthur deliberately kept this information from Merlin to avoid disagreement and argument.

Of course, the great episodes 5x01 and 5x02 show Arthur risking everything to save his men “or die trying”, because to do otherwise would be to sacrifice his beliefs. In episode 5x04, Arthur decided to rescue King Rodor from King Odin, in spite of the immense danger and the holes in Princess Mithian’s story. In episode 5x05, he decided to beg the Disir for Mordred’s life, because he did not want another innocent man dying on his behalf.

And so on.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART IV

More on Merlin’s fighting skills

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fallout-snippets · 4 years ago

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Companions react to the Sole Survivor finding Shaun's Halloween costume in their old home after blowing up the Institute. I'd love to see what you can do with it

Cait doesn’t entirely get it as she doesn’t really have the familial love reference in her soul. She knows Sole is hurting though, and that’s all she needs to be there for them. Suggests throwing it away to throw away the pain, leave the past behind.

Codsworth hurts just as much as Sole does. If he could cry he would be sobbing right next to them, offering them tea and blankets. He’s the one who suggested the costume. They’ll get through it together.

Curie is so confused and emotional. Knows that she didn’t lose anyone but can’t explain why she also feels so desperately sad. Doesn’t know how to grieve properly either or how to comfort Sole. Makes her feel even worse. Knows better than to ask about the Halloween holiday and significance of the costume.

Danse understands the pain of losing but hates dwelling on the past. Encourages Sole to move on quickly, and to look ahead. Suggests ripping a piece of the costume to keep with them as memento, to remind them what they’re fighting for.

Deacon is surprisingly quiet. Doesn’t joke around (even he has limits) but doesn’t say much at all. Does small things that are easily unnoticed though, like make sure Sole always has something to eat or drink, and that when they rest they are undisturbed. Makes a mental note never to remind them of that particular costume, preferably never mentions Halloween, costumes or dressing up. Finds other words to use that aren’t as linked.

Dogmeat doesn’t know who the costume belongs to or what it means but knows that holding it is making Sole sad. He never leaves their side and always sits or lies next to them whenever possible. One day when Sole hasn’t touched it for a while he grabs it and runs away with it, burying it somewhere out in the wasteland Sole won’t find it again, thinking he’s taking away what’s hurting Sole.

Hancock knows all about burying grief under chems and alcohol but also knows they’re only temporary fixes and delays the inevitable. Makes sure Sole has the option if things get too hard but encourages them to work through it sober. Ignoring pain only makes it fester. Stands by them every step of the way. Suggests burying the costume since they couldn’t bury Shaun.

MacCready really wants to be there for Sole as much as he can but it reminds him too much of his own son and his terror of losing him. Will help Sole recover the best he can but he can’t talk about Shaun specifically without severe anxiety himself. Gives them space to grieve when they need vent but is right there to pick them back up when they’re done. The costume instantly makes him freak out, doesn’t want to be near it.

Nick isn’t great with comforting people, it was the worst part of his job. Only knows the clichés of “there, there” and “I’m sorry for your loss”. He’s matured beyond grieving the way Sole does and can only really promise to give them whatever help they request. If they need to sob into his shoulder he lets them, if they want distractions he got cases in abundance and if they want to talk he will listen. Suggests giving the costume away to some settler so that they don’t have to be reminded of it.

Piper feels worthless. Knows that realistically she can’t undo what’s been done or how Sole feels about it but she feels like she’s not doing enough. Probably goes overboard with comfort and maybe doesn’t leave Sole alone enough. Does the best she can not to put herself and Nat in that scenario, just the idea of the idea makes her stomach turn. Considers taking the costume and throwing it away so Sole isn’t reminded but knows it’s not for her to do.

Preston gives them all the time and space they need. Does whatever they ask him to and makes sure no one gives them a hard time. Knows that there’s nothing he can say or do to make it easier, it’s something they’re going to have to process over a long time. Promises that it will get better. Suggests putting the costume away for now but keeping it, one day it won’t be a bad memory anymore.

Strong doesn’t understand the purpose of the costume or why it makes Sole sad. Tells them to get rid of it if it’s hurting them, no reason to keep something that makes them weak around. Doesn’t help when people try to explain, just makes him more confused and angry about it.

X6-88 already has too many conflicting emotions he doesn’t understand about the fall of the Institute, has things of his own to process. Stands by their side and does whatever he can to help but is almost just as much of a mess as Sole is, just internalizes it better. Ends up feeling kind of resentful towards the costume for many reasons, encourages Sole to get rid of it.

Ada has costumes of her own in her luggage. Tells Sole not to let go of it and if she sees any reason Sole might try to destroy it she’ll swipe it before anything happens and keep it safe for them. One day it wont hurt as much and they’ll want something to help them remember.

Longfellow offers to take the costume off their hands so they don’t have to think about it anymore. Will put it away in case they ever want it back but if it rots away in a box somewhere it’ll be just as well. Talks happy memories with them, tries to turn it into something good.

Gage slightly resents Sole for getting so emotional over some cloth. Thinks it anchors them in the past instead of letting them live in the present. Considers destroying it, either in secret or in front of them, but understands that it’s more than just the costume. Attempts to keep them busy so they can’t dwell on it but when it’s at its worst he’s either staying away or silently letting them cry it out on his shoulders.

#cait #codsworth #curie #danse #deacon #dogmeat #hancock #maccready #nick valentine #nick #piper #preston #strong #x6-88 #ada #longfellow #gage #fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #ask #anon #snippet

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theladywiththeblueeyes · 4 years ago

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Let`s talk.

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Im sorry, if you dont like it.

You did not know what to think, other than this was such a cliché. A cliché you only saw in romantical movies, where to people ended up together because they meet when they got stuck in the elevator. There were just some FEW problems about this cliché thing, one: you already meet this person, two: this person really did not like you, which was not great because you both were alone in elevator that is stuck, well you could just say this was not an ideal situation. If you were honest, you had a little idea why Natasha Romanoff did not like you, and what you had done that had made her mad at you. When you meet her, she had been distant and very reserved, you of course did not take offense to that, because it had been to one of Tony`s parties, and when you meet again it was when the Avengers had split up into too teams and you were on Steve`s side, because Wanda was your best friend. You and Wanda had meet each other through Steve, because you and Steve had become friends along time, in short you had saved him, by taking care of his wounds and keeping quiet about it. So, when Steve thought Wanda needed a friend, he went to you, his doctor friend, you had of course agreed instantly, because you also needed a friend, as much as her. The two of you clicked instant, you bounded over the loss of a brother, because you also had lost brother. You fought side by side with Wanda, but only because you father had trained in fighting sports since you could walk, he had always said that the world was dangerously and that is a reason why you must make sure you can defend yourself. You ended up getting locked up with Wanda and the others, and you would worriedly talk to Wanda, and hopelessly try and get the guards to help Wanda. But you and the others got out because of Steve, and now it had all calmed down, well as much as it could.

You stop the train of thoughts and looked at the woman, you were trapped in an elevator with. You decided that since your both was here trapped, then you could get a chance to talked to her, honestly what the worst that could happened, expect from getting killed or get you ass kicked, and who knows what. But you ignored the fear and started with “Hello, Natasha…Let`s talk.” You did not want to beat around the bush, and you just got straight to it, since Natasha did not seem like the kind that wanted to waste her time, with chit-chat. If Natasha were curious, she did not show it, she kept her neutral facial expression, and showed she listen, by turning around so she looked at you. You continued before you would lose your courage “Well, I know that you don’t like me, I understand. But I will have you know that I do not regret helping Wanda, because Wanda is my best friends and she lost so much. So- “. You did not get to continue because Natasha interrupted you, she was apparently stuck on the first part of what you were saying, because she said “What do mean by you know I don’t like you? I like you.” You stood still, and all you could manage was a “Oh”, you had been wrong, but that left you with questions, why did she always stay quiet when you came into the room, that she was in or just left. You asked, and when she failed answered to answer, but in return, you failed to notice the blush that had come when she did not know what to answer. You could almost swear to yourself that Natasha looked like she just had been caught stealing something. When Natasha failed to answer, an awkward silence fell over the elevator. You decided to take a chance and ask her if she wanted to get coffee, but you did not even get to open your mouth because it was there when the elevator started working. You were so unprepared that you fell, but Natasha caught you, which caused you to blush so much that you probably looked like a tomato. You managed to mutter a “thanks”, but you were so embarrassed that you decided, that it would be stupid to ask her to coffee because a woman as gorgeous as her would probably say no. Natasha sent you a small smile after she caught you, she could see that you were embarrassed about something and could not stop thinking that you were adorable. The elevator opened its doors, and you hurried out, you were desperately trying get out of the building, and after a few minutes you were out of the building. You had not realized that Natasha had followed you out, wanting to talk to you, so you when you saw her right in front of you, you let out a quiet yelp. Natasha laughed and you smiled awkwardly to her. Natasha returned the smile and took a chance by asking you out to some coffee, which you excited agreed to. Natasha and you talked for hours and she even followed you home, wanting you to be safe. This became a routine for the both of you, you would meet in the elevator when you visited Wanda, Steve, and the others, and you both would go for coffee after. Of course, when Natasha needed to go on a mission with or without the Avengers, she would always call you and meet up right after a mission, even if she had been injured, to you own worry. After some time, Natasha had ended up falling in love with you, and asked you on a date. You accepted because you returned Natasha`s feelings. One date, became two, which became millions, which did you officially got into a relationship. The elevator always held a special room in your hearts because it was there that you both got your cliché love story, that was also the place Natasha proposed to you.

#the avengers #the black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader

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kkintle · 3 years ago

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The Sea, The Sea by Iris Murdoch ; Quotes

One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats, and if some of these can me inexpensive and quickly procured so much the better.

There will be time and motive enough to prose on about my life when I shall have generated as it were a sufficient cloud of reflection. I am still almost shy of my emotions, shy of the terrible strength of certain memories.

I always felt that we were in the same boat, adventuring along together (…) We enjoyed and craved for each other’s company. What a test that is: more than devotion, admiration, passion. If you long and long for someone’s company you love them.

Is it true however? Well, it is not totally misleading, but it is far too short and ‘smart’. How can one describe real people?

Did I face it well? I think I did. Forgiveness and money were so ready as soon as I knew that she was doomed. That sounds cynical. I always loved her; and we were rewarded. At the very end we were both perfect. Poor Clement. That is a dreadful land, old age. I shall soon be entering it myself.

The image of Hartley changed in my mind from fiery pain to sadness, but never became blank. And in a way, I did keep searching for her, only it was a different and quite involuntary kind of search, a sort of dream-search.

Oh Hartley, Hartley, how timeless, how absolute love is. My love for you is unaware that I am old and you perhaps are dead.

‘I could have told you that country is the least peaceful and private place to live. The most peaceful and secluded place in the world is a flat in Kensington.’

I confess that I went to Peregrine not only for a drinking bout and a chat with and cold friend, but for male company, sheer complicit male company: the complicity of males which is like, indeed is, a kind of complicity in crime, in chauvinism, in getting away with things, in just gluttonously enjoying the present even if hell is all around.

‘We are such inward creatures, that inwardness is the most amazing thing about us, even more amazing than our reason. But we cannot just walk into the cavern and look around. Most of what we think we know are pseudo-knowledge. We are all such shocking poseurs, so good at inflating the importance of what we think we value. (…) People lie so, even we old men do. Though in aa way, if there is art enough it doesn’t matter, since there is another kind of truth in the art’.

‘And if there is art enough a lie can enlighten us as well as the truth. What is the truth anyway, that truth? As we know ourselves we are fake objects, fakes, bundles of illusions. Can you determine exactly what you felt or thought or did? We have to pretend in law courts that such things can be done, but that is just a matter of convenience. Well, well, it doesn’t signify. (…)’

‘(…) Do you know what marriage is like? You say she’s unhappy, most people are. A long marriage is very unifying, even if it’s not ideal, and those old structures must be respected. You may not think much of her husband, but he may suit her, however impressed she is by meeting you again. Has she said she wants to be rescued?

How very convenient these cliché phrases are, how soothing to the pained mind, and how misleading, how concealing.

It is an interesting fact about jealousy (…) that although it is in so many respects a totally irrational as well as totally irresistible emotion, it does show a certain limited reasonableness where temporal priority is concerned.

I love her, I thought, just as if I have been married to her all those years and have seen her gradually grow old and lose her beauty.

You’ve lived in a hedonistic dream all your life, and you’ve got away with behaving like a cad because you always picked on women who could look after themselves. And my God you told us the score, you never committed yourself, you never said you loved us even when you did! A cold fish with clear hands! But it was just luck really if the girls survived.

She summoned up my whole being, and I wanted to hold her and to overwhelm her an to lie with her forever, jusqu’a la fin du monde, and yes, to amaze her humility with the forces of my love, but also to be humble myself and to let her, in the end, console me and give me back my own best self.

After looking at the bright candles I could at first see nothing, and it struck me in an odd way that while I was talking to Hartley I had forgotten about the sea, forgotten it was there and now felt confounded and at a loss to find myself half blind among those terrible rocks.

The formation of my love for Clement, had been one of the main tasks and achievements of my life: that love which so often almost failed but never quite failed.

Being in love, that’s another slavery, stupid when you come to think of it, mad really. You make another person into God. That can’t be right (…) Real love, is free and sane. (…) Real love is like in a marriage when the glamour is gone. (…) Love. God, how often we uttered that word in the theatre and how little we even thought about it.

‘Yes, it’s strange, but in a way I do know you, and there isn’t anyone else who’s near me like that. I support it’s just because we were young, and later you cant know people, or I couldn’t.’

‘It’s happened fast because it’s right, it’s easy because it’s right.’

‘I wish I was dead, I think I’m going to die soon, I feel it. Sometimes I felt I would die by wishing it when I went to sleep but I always woke up again and found I was still there. Every morning finding I’m still me, that’s hell.’ ‘Well, get out of hell then! The gate’s open and I’m holding it!’ ‘I cant. I’m hell, myself.’

‘You just want someone to remember things with.’

It ceased at last, as everything dreadful has to cease, even if it ceases only by death. My presence, my cries, had no effect on her, I doubt if, in a sense, she knew I was there, although also, in a sense, the performance was for me, its violence directed at me.

I remembered, as I now did whenever I awoke, with a pang of anguish and love and fear, that Hartley was in the house.

(…) and although, with her disordered grey hair she looked old and mad, she seemed in that arrested moment like a queen.

‘And you are using this thing from the far past as a guide to important and irrevocable moves which you propose to make in the future. You are making a dangerous induction, and induction is shaky at the best of times, consider Russell’s chicken –‘ ‘Russell’s chicken?’ ‘The farmer’s wife comes out every day and feeds the chicken, but one day she comes out and wrings its neck.’

‘Not to worry. Sic biscuits disintegrat.’ ‘What?’ ‘That’s the way the cookie crumbles.’

We did not dare to say much to each other. By now I wanted the whole thing to be over. I could scarcely endure the idea that she might even now say ‘I don’t think I want to go after all.’; and the impulse to cry out ‘Stop!’ was a pain which I urgently wanted to be without. Perhaps she felt much the same.

James said, ‘I hope you don’t feel that I’ve influenced you in any way against your better judgement?’ ‘No.’ I was not going to argue that point. Of course he had influenced me. But what was my judgement, let alone better judgement?

‘Time can divorce us from the reality of people, it can separate us from people and turn them into ghosts. Or rather it is us who turn them into ghosts or demons. Some kinds of fruitless preoccupations with the past can create such simulacra, and they exercise power, like those heroes at Troy fighting for a phantom Helen.’

‘I’m not calling her a ghost. She is real, as human creatures are, but what reality she has is elsewhere. She does not coincide with your dream figure. You were not able to transform her. You must admit you tried and failed.’

‘(…) It is a mental charade, a necessary one perhaps, it has its own necessity, but not like what you think. Of course you can’t get over it at once. But in a few weeks or a few months you’ll have run through it all, looked at it all again and felt it all again and got rid of it. It’s not an eternal thing, nothing human is eternal. For us, eternity is an illusion. It’s like in a fairy tale. When the clock strikes twelve it will all crumble to pieces and vanish. And you’ll find you are free of her, free of her forever and you can let the poor ghost go. What will remain will be ordinary obligations and ordinary interests. And you’ll feel relief, you’ll feel free. At present, you’re just obsessed, hynotised.’

‘(…) When you’ve known someone from childhood, when you can’t remember when they weren’t there, that’s not an illusion. She’s woven into me. Don’t you understand how one can be so absolutely connected with somebody like that?’

‘(…) I gave her the meaning of my life long ago, I gave it to her and she still has it. Even if she doesn’t know she has it, she has it.’

‘Just like even if she’s ugly she’s beautiful and even if she doesn’t love you she loves you – ‘ ‘But she does –‘ ‘Charles, either this is very fine, very noble, or else you’re mad.’

‘(…) You mustn’t interfere in other people’s lives, especially married people. That’s in a way why marriage is so awful, I can’t think how anyone dares to do it. You’ve got to leave them alone. They’ve got their own way of hating each other and hurting each other, they enjoy it.’

‘”For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.”(…)’

Some kinds of obsession, of which being in love is one, paralyses the ordinary free-wheeling of the mind, its natural open interested curious mode of being, which is sometimes persuasively defined as rationality. I was sane enough to know that I was in a state of total obsession and that I could onlythink, over and over again, certain agonising thoughts, could only run continually along the same rat-paths of fantasy and intent. But I was not sane enough to interrupt this mechanical movement or even to desire to do so.

‘(…) And perhaps I was pleased to see you. We sometimes like to see people whom we hate and despise so that we can stir them up to further demonstrations of how odious they are.’

‘Jealousy is born with love, but does not always die with love.’

‘(…) Ordinary mediocre people think that if they confess one tenth of the truth they’re in the clear. You’ve made all your words into lies, you’ve devalued your speech and – in a moment you’ve spoiled the past – and there’s nothing to rely on any more.’

There were a few clouds, big lazy chryselephantine clouds that loafed around over the water exuding light. I gazed at them and wondered at myself for being too obsessed to be able to admire the marvels that surrounded me. But knowing how blind I was did not make me see.

(…) people can be light sources, without ever knowing, for years in the lives of others, while their own lives take different and hidden courses. Equally, one can be, and I recalled Peregrine’s words, a monster, a cancer, in the mind of someone whom one has half forgotten or even never met.

As James said, ‘If even a dog’s tooth is truly worshipped it glows with light.’

‘Can you hear the sea?’

‘I think you’re nearly through out of it. You’ve built a cage of needs and installed here in an empty space in the middle. The strong feelings are all around her – vanity, jealousy, revenge, your love for your youth – they aren’t focused on her, they don’t touch her. She seems to be their prisoner, but really you don’t harm her at all. You are using her image, a doll, a simulacrum, it’s an exorcism. Soon you will start seeing her as a wicked enchantress. Then you will have nothing to do except forgive here and that will be within your capacity.’

‘The sea is clean. The mountains are high. I think I am becoming drunk.’ ‘The sea is not all that clean,’ said James. ‘Did you know that dolphins sometimes commit suicide by leaping onto the land because they are so tormented by parasites?’ ‘I wish you hadn’t told me that. Dolphins are such good beasts. So even they have their attendant demons.’

‘What after all is superstition?’ said James, pouring some more wine into both glasses. ‘What is religion? Where does the one end and the other begin? How could one answer that question about Christianity?’

‘(…) But this power is dreadful stuff. Our lusts and attachments compose our god. And when one attachment is cast off another arrived by way of consolation. We never give up pleasure absolutely, we only barter it for another.’ (…)

What was my role in this play? I felt myself being relaxed and smiling like a man in a dream who cannot remember his lines but knows he can manage impromptu.

If there’s any fruitless mental torment which is greater than that of jealousy it is perhaps remorse. Even the pains of loss may be less searching; and often of course these agonies combine, as now they did for me. I say remorse not repentance. I doubt if I have ever experienced repentance in a pure form; perhaps it does not exist in a pure form. Remorse contains guilt, but helpless hopeless guilt which knows of no cure for the painful bite.

However life, unlike art, has an irritating way of bumping and limping on, undoing conversions, casting doubt on solutions, and generally illustrating the impossibility of living happily or virtuously even after (…)

Time, like the sea, unties all knots. Judgements on people are never final, they emerge from summing up which at once suggest the need of a reconsideration. Human arrangements are nothing but loose ends and hazy reckoning, whatever art may otherwise pretend in order to console us.

But am I so exceptional? We must live by the light of our self-satisfaction, through that secret vital busy inwardness which is even more remarkable than our reason. Thus we must live unless we are saints, and are there any? There are spiritual beings, perhaps James was one, but there are no saints.

There may be no saints, but there is at least one proof that the light of self-satisfaction can illuminate the whole world.

Of course this chattering diary is a façade, the literary equivalent of the everyday smiling face which hides the inward savages of jealousy, remorse, fear and the consciousness of irretrievable moral failure. Yet such pretences are not only consolations but may even be productive of a little ersatz courage.

That time of attentive mourning for her death was quite unlike the black blank horror of the thing itself. We had mourned together, trying to soothe each other’s pain. But that shared pain was so much less than the torment of her vanishing, the terrible lived time of her eternal absence. How different each death is, and yet it leads us into the self-same country, that country which we inhabit so rarely, where we see that worthlessness of what we have long pursued and will so soon return to pursuing.

There were no trains going where she was.

I cannot now remember the exact sequence of events in those prehistoric years. That we cannot remember such things, that our memory, which is ourself, is tiny, limited and fallible, is also one of the important things about us, like our inwardness and our reason. Indeed it is the very essence of both.

The only fault which I can at all measure is my own.

Anything can be tarnished by association, and if you have enough associations you can blacken the world. (…) In hell or in purgatory there would be no need of other or more elaborate tortures.

My love for you is quiet at last. I don’t want it to become a roaring furnace. If I could have suffered more I would have suffered more. Receive us now as if we were your children. Tenderness and absolute trust and communication and truth matter more and more as one grows older. Somehow let us not waste love, it is rare. Can we not love each other at last in freedom, without awful possessiveness and violence and fear? Love matters, not ‘in love’. Let there be no more partings now. Let there be peace between us now forever, we are no longer young. Love me, Charles, love me enough.

I suppose that is right, though there is a kind of impiety involved in letting any of James’s stuff go away. Do I then suppose he is likely to come back at any moment?

It is strange to think that when I went to the sea I imagined that I was giving up the world. But one surrenders power in one form, and grasps it in another.

#iris murdoch #fiction #quotes #literature #classic #the sea the sea #booker prize

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years ago

Note

Could you make an AU of “A Babysitters Guide to Monster Hunting” please?

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

So this is a cute movie. I haven’t read the books, but here we go anyway!

A Babysitter’s Guide to Monster Hunting AU

Characters

Racetrack Higgins — Kelly Furgeson

Jack Kelly — Liz LeRue

Romeo — Jacob Zellman

Obadiah Weisel — Grand Guignol

Katherine Plumber — Berna Vincent

David Jacobs — Cassie Zhen

Albert DaSilva — Curtis Critter

Hannah — Peggy Drood

JoJo — Broccoli (Does that kid have a name?)

Spot Conlon — Victor Colleti

Crutchie Morris — Kevin LeRue

Race has never been popular. Ever since he was little he’s been made fun of for countless things such as taking gymnastics as a kid, being a math wiz (a nerd, as most like to call him), being gay, and being Manhattan’s resident “Monster Boy”. See. When Race was young, he’d had a horrid series of nightmares, actually plaguing him with insomnia from a young age.

His parents had been gone. He’d only been five at the time. And there had been monsters in his closet. To this day he can still remember how real it all felt. How the earth shook beneath him and a green glowed from his closet. He remembers a hand covered in rings pushing open the door, he remembers glowing green eyes and yellow teeth. He remembers someone singing to him.

He’d made the mistake of falling asleep in class the next day, reliving the memory before he’d woken up crying about monsters trying to take him away.

Ever since then, he’d been known to the masses as “Monster Boy”. It wasn’t a very clever name, but it stuck.

After this, Race takes to hating sleep. He never wants to close his eyes, much less take a nap. But he manages and it doesn’t hurt that he’s wickedly smart and very physically fit. He can go for a long time without sleep and gets very good and functioning without a lot of it.

High school is something Race would rather skip completely, but as he’s stuck there, he lets himself develop a hopeless crush on the boy that’s just about got every girl wrapped right around his finger.

Spot Conlon. The hottest boy in school.

Though his best friend JoJo never fails to encourage him to try and talk to the older boy, Race always chickens out. However, a Halloween party set in place nearly gets Race to change his mind, as he figures Halloween is the most cliché day of the year to be at one’s most confident. Race never minded cliches. So he figured why not. He sets a plan into place to get the nerve up to dance with Spot Conlon but these plans get crushed when his mother hesitantly tells him that she’s volunteered him to babysit on Halloween night.

Angered and irritated by this, Race tries to call on his dad for help but is left on his own to argue. Ultimately he loses, as the person his mother promised him to for the night is her ice queen of a boss who could fire her easily if she had to back down.

So Race babysits that night.

Upon his arrival, he’s given a list of tasks that need to be done for little Romeo, a boy who’s not allowed sugar, more than thirty minutes of screen time, or any kind of scary stories. Race can hardly get a word in as the woman takes him to the little boy who’s hiding away in his room, looking terrified of his own toys. But Race introduces himself to the poor kid before seeing the boy’s mother off and calling JoJo, having absolutely no idea what to do because the little kid he’s supposed to be babysitting won’t come out of his room.

JoJo is happily showing Race all that he’s missing at the party. This is when Race hears someone rummaging around in the cupboard. He runs over to find Romeo stuffing his face with so much chocolate he can’t get a word out. When Race tells him to stop and spit out whatever he has in his mouth for the sake of getting him to bed on time, Romeo grabs all he can carry and bolts, trying to reach his room before Race manages to chase him down and push his way into his room.

Forcing his way inside, Race finds that the only reason Romeo stole the candy was because he wanted a sugar rush to keep him awake. Curling up on his bed in fear, Romeo shows Race drawings of the monsters that were coming to get him at night, every time he tried to sleep.

Understanding Romeo’s fears, Race gently talks him through it, explaining that he’d gone through the very same thing when he was Romeo’s age. The five year old trusts Race, now fifteen, practically an adult to him, when he tells him that none of these monsters are real, something Romeo’s mother has been telling him for weeks. Though Romeo does believe him, the fear doesn’t truly melt away. So Race, who hasn’t slept in about ten years, pulls out a few gadgets of his own invention. Little nightlights that he makes when he gets bored at night, not sleeping. He gives Romeo one to comfort him as Romeo promises to try and go to sleep and Race leaves him alone, believing this to be an easy night babysitting.

Romeo does his best to relax after Race leaves, but mere minutes later, his room starts shaking. There’s a green glow coming from his closet. Ringed hands push his closet door open and a song begins to fill the room, a lullaby. Romeo tries to hide, fearing he was in the middle of another nightmare but rolling over to find himself staring into glowing green eyes.

Before he can scream, the man hovering above him snaps his fingers, forcing the boy’s lips together. Still, Romeo tries to call out for Race. The odd man then throws a bag over the boy and lets three little goblin-like creatures take him underground.

Hearing a commotion coming from Romeo’s bedroom, Race rushes back in to find what he believes to be Romeo cowering under his blankets. When he pulls the thing back, he finds a horrible little yellow monster that was waiting to pounce. Nearly taking a bite out of him, the thing manages to trash the room around Race before disappearing underground with Romeo and the two other monsters that are just like it.

Race tries to jump down after them, but the hole closes up below him and Race is left nearly hyperventilating on the floor.

The second Race can collect himself, he grabs his phone and gets out of that house, calling the police, at a complete loss for what to do. As it is Halloween night, he is not taken seriously and is almost immediately hung up on. But as he’s trying to run for help, a motorcycle screeches to a halt right in front of him, nearly giving Race a heart attack.

The young man that stops in front of him is basically the definition of dark and mysterious, with a leather jacket wrapped around him, a red bandana wrapped around his head, fingerless gloves on his hands and muddy, scuffed up boots on his feet. The only thing that strikes Race as odd is the baby strapped to the older boy’s chest.

Confused at this guy’s sudden presence, Race lets him inspect the surrounding area as the guys start asking questions about what “they” looked like and how many there were. Hardly even thinking, Race answers him before realizing this guy shouldn’t know what happened and asking who the heck he was. The man informs him that he’s a babysitter, Jack Kelly, and that he got a “Nightmare Ping” from this location.

Race hastily explains to Jack that the kid he was supposed to be babysitting was kidnapped by some creatures and he had no idea what they were. Jack, who is proving to be very stand-off-ish and blunt, scoffs at Race’s attempts to be in charge of a human being and goes to investigate, Race hot on his tails the whole time, much to the young man’s annoyance.

With Race’s descriptions of what happened and a hidden message on the wall that makes Jack go slightly pale, the older boy manages to decipher that some toadies took Romeo and that the kid is not underground.

Whilst all of this is happening, Race manages to curiously ask Jack who’s baby he was carrying, insisting that he wouldn’t judge if it was his own. But Jack just tells the baby, Smalls, to say hi. He explains that he’s the little girl’s babysitter and that he was doing what babysitters did, taking care of their kids.

When he’s done searching the room, he asks Race what direction the toadies went, commenting that he was like a human calculator when the boy gives him an exact direction in degrees. He then tells Race to stay put, act cool and play the quiet game before leaving the room and shutting the door on his way out.

It only takes seconds for Race to get spooked and run after Jack, demanding that he take him with.

Jack nearly leaves him, claiming that if Race came with he’d end up cursed, hypnotized, eaten alive or worse, but after Race makes a crucial observation in the yard, Jack realizes he might be useful and tells him to get on the bike. So Race does.

They manage to track the toadie to a playground. Jack mostly ignores Race but, after all the questions the young blond is asking him, he gives him a small tablet with one single book inside it. “A Babysitter’s Guide To Monster Hunting.” He explains that babysitting is more than just turning on a movie and waiting for the kid to go to sleep, that the monsters they have nightmares about as children are real and that babysitter’s are trained to keep those monsters from stealing away their charges in the middle of the night.

Hardly believing this was all real, Race watches Jack snuff out a trap hole made by the toadies at the bottom of a slide. He sets out a trap, placing Smalls down beside the hole and sprinkling baby powder around her. Race realizes that he’s using the baby as bait and gets antsy, even though Jack assured him he’s got it all under control. At the last minute, Race chickens out, rushing to get to the baby right as a monster surfaces from underground. Though Jack tries to stop him, he knows he’s too late so he rushed to fight the monster head on, barely managing to save Small’s who he promised he won’t let anything happen to.

Whilst Jack begins to wrestle with the Toadie, demanding that Romeo be returned to him, Race gets a phone call. It’s Romeo’s mother.

He barely manages to keep the woman’s suspicion down with Jack making a lot of noise all around him but after promising that he’d gotten Romeo to go to sleep, she admits she’s impressed and hangs up, leaving Race to panic even more.

Eventually, Jack manages to catch the monster, putting it in a bag. Race asks what he’s planning on doing and Jack doesn’t answer. He just takes the thing, straps it to his bike and tells Race to get on or go home.

Race gets on.

They end up at Roosevelt College. While they’re walking through, dragging a bag behind them, Race realizes that Jack is nodding and waving to these people like he knows them. Jack reveals to him that he’s a college junior after sarcastically commenting to an attractive girl who inquired about the bag that he had his professor in there.

Understanding absolutely nothing about this boy, Race watches Jack throw the toadie in the trash before using a keycard to get into what looks to be a dark abandoned room. Upon walking inside, Race finds a secret hideout, complete with a lab and a library.

Jack is not the only babysitter in Manhattan.

Race meets Davey, a know-it-all college sophomore who’s studying to become a forensic scientist, Katherine, a very cool, tech-savvy senior who is studying to become a novelist (she runs her own anonymous blog. It’s mostly political. She has a lot of followers), and Albert, a freshman who is studying to become an engineer. He makes their weapons and defenses.

Davey is the only one who wants Race out, but the rest of the team welcome him immediately, promising to find Romeo and get him home safe before midnight. Kat immediately puts a trace on Romeo’s mother’s phone and Albert gets to work on making a memory potion so they can recall every detail of the night while Davey empties the Toadie’s pouch as the thing had fallen through the trash right into their lab.

After dosing Race with some of the memory potion, of which they’d never tested before, Race begins to sing a song, one he’d heard as a little boy, the same one that Jack recognized from his own childhood. Jack goes pale at the lullaby. He shakes his head, not believing what he was hearing and saying that this couldn’t be happening, beginning to pace a bit as Kat and Al both refuse to tell Race what’s going on.

Jack gets ahold of himself and explains that the man that took Romeo is one of the seven worst nightmares in the nightmare realm. He tells him that the only way to defeat the Grand Guignol is to monster-punch angel blood into his heart.

Race insists that he’s not leaving until Romeo is rescued and Jack rolls his eyes, telling Albert to get them some weapons ready. So Albert does, showing Race many different types of emergency weapons including one magic stick that was found in a tomb in Egypt that is rumored to be able to break any hex or curse.

After gearing up, Jack tells Race that if he insists on coming then he can feed the Toadie. Before he can argue, a back of trash is thrown into his arms and the monster is unleashed on him. That’s when Jack reveals he planted a tracker in the trash and that tracker was now in the Toadie’s stomach.

They go to follow him, unaware that the monster had found the tracker and had alerted the Grand Guignol, who had been trying for over an hour now to get Romeo to sleep. The nightmare instructs the monster to lead them down the street to an “old friend”. So the Toadie does without question.

Following the monster, Jack and Race find themselves at a large house that’s partying Halloween style. But it’s not just any party, no. It’s the same one that all of Race’s classmates are at.

It’s the same party that Spot Conlon is at.

Jack goes to get inside, but Race freezes seeing Spot and the girl that everyone assumed Spot was going to start dating, Rafaela. He reveals that he can’t go in there and Jack asks him if he’s really more scared of two teenagers than he was of actual monsters. Race admits a bit shakily that he definitely is and Jack softens, looking at both of the kids. He tells Race that Rafaela looks like any basic girl, dressed as a sexy cat on Halloween, and that, sure, Spot was good looking enough but, why did that have to be so intimidating?

Race nods and finally allows himself to follow Jack inside.

Inside, everyone begins to call Race “Monster Boy” to which Jack says he likes. It’s a pretty cool nickname to have, even if Race already had another one.

While exploring the house and trying to find the Toadie, Race and Jack get separated and Race, quite literally, runs into Spot Conlon who spills his drink on him. Spot tries to apologize, but Race insists it’s alright before Jack pulls him away, leading him down to the basement.

That’s where they find the Toadie who is planning to feed them to a shadow monster hiding in the closet. The Toadie attacks them, leaving them with one shard of glass before shoving them towards the other monster.

Jack remembers that the thing is deathly afraid of light and says that as long as they stay where it’s bright they should be okay. That is, till the Toadie cuts the power.

The party keeps raging above them and Jack rushes to go find a flashlight but Race pulls out his own homemade nightlights to keep the thing back. That’s when Spot finds him, trying again to apologize and asking Racer if they can talk.

Race does his best to look natural while keeping the thing back and leading Spot away, but the monster only follows them. Race turns Spot away from him, eventually shoving the other boy into a room and shutting him in. Spot is confused but goes along with it as Race tries to figure out what to do, eventually using both his gymnastics skills and his math skills to figure out how to stop the thing. He whistles at the crowd and then groans before flipping over the banister and landing on his side on the couch as flashing lights catch the shadow monster that’s trying to eat him.

The thing disappears.

Jack is almost impressed. He would be if that wasn’t such a dumb thing to do. But the second he hears Rafaela scoff and make a dumb comment, he dares her to do it again, making it very clear that Race was a friend of his. And Race’s heart swells at that.

Race’s parents call him, telling him that they just saw a video of him diving off of a banister on Instagram. Katherine diverts the trace that his father put on him and the two go on their way.

The two leave them party, realizing they’d been played before Katherine calls them to explain that there’s an amulet that might be able to put the Grand Guignol to sleep so they can get to Romeo once they figure out where he is.

But they tell Jack that it’s in the possession of Hannah Drood, the crazy cat lady. A witch.

Against Jack’s better judgement, he takes Racer there, telling him that this was the only way they’d be able to save Charlie.

That’s when Race pauses. He asks who Charlie is and Jack knows he slipped up. He tries to keep going, telling Race to forget about it, but Race gets in his way. So he caves.

Charlie is Jack’s little brother. He would be Race’s age by now. When they were little, monsters came into their rooms to take them away. Jack was eleven. Charlie was five. The Grand Guignol sang them a song and Jack fell under his spell, passing out at the nightmare stole his brother away.

He hadn’t seen his brother since. He’d been looking for him his whole life and there was no end in sight. That’s why he did what he did. That’s why he looked out for innocent children.

That’s not what Race expected. But he tells Jack that he’s sorry, that he’d help him keep looking if Jack wanted him too. Jack appreciates that.

They continue on into the witches lair. Jack begins to cough and wheeze, revealing to Race that he’s severely allergic to cats, of which this lady has many. Race begins to get nervous as Jack is looking more and more scared and helpless by the second but Jack gives him a weapon and tells him to douse the witch once they get inside and steal the amulet without looking at it.

Upon arriving in the grand room, Jack falls to the ground, hardly able to breathe. He tells Race to go, but before Race can get close enough to even try, the Grand Guignol appears beside the witch, asking her for her amulet before seeing the two boys in the room. He taunts and teases them, intrigued when he finds the great Jack Kelly wheezing and gasping for air on the ground. He asks the witch if he can keep him, telling her she could have the other one all to herself. She agrees. Race tries to stop him, but the nightmare simply walks over to Jack and throws him over his shoulder, carrying him away. Race tries to go after him but isn’t fast enough.

Then the witch reveals her cats who had been hidden in the couch and the walls. She tells them it’s time to feast. So Race runs.

He didn’t get his nickname for nothing.

He manages to outrun the cats and hops on the motorcycle that Jack yelled at him never to touch and drives away, terrified and confused and unsure of what to do next. But he calls Katherine and tells her what happened, sending her a picture of the glass he’d gotten off of the Toadie earlier.

Katherine tells him that the glass came from an old abandoned lighthouse and that it must be where The Grand Guignol was keeping Romeo, and now Jack. Race hangs up before she can warn him not to go.

Meanwhile, Jack wakes up disoriented and confused. His throat is sore and his legs are weak and he’s in a cage in the middle of a dark room. His phone’s gone and he panics for a second before remembering that Small’s was safe back at Headquarters. All he can do is pull his legs to his chest and just wait.

That is, until a voice starts calling his name.

Charlie’s calling out for him, begging him for help. He’s crying and whimpering but Jack can’t see him. He starts to scream out for him before glowing green eyes appear in front of him, startling him enough to get him to scramble backwards. Jack demands the return of Charlie and Romeo, but it sounds more like desperate screams. The Grand Guignol just pulls Jack towards him, taking the boy’s chin in his hand as he begins to sing a song. A lullaby. Jack can’t help but let tears rush to his eyes as he begins to fall under the spell again, unable to fight it even as he tries to cover his ears.

It only takes a moment for the nightmare to gain complete control over him.

As Race arrives at the lighthouse, he calls Katherine back, explaining to her that he had tied his sweater to the fence just in case he were to get lost. With that, he goes in.

He manages to find Romeo, but The Grand Guignol is still with the little boy after just having lured him to sleep, catching him immediately and sending the Toadies out after Race who capture him in a bag and try to throw him down into the water surrounding the lighthouse. Race manages to get free just before they do, managing to trick them into letting him use Albert’s contraptions on them. Then he runs.

Of course, back at headquarters, things begin to go wrong as the power goes out and a very angry shadow monster is on the loose. David and Albert help Katherine out along with the ball of angel’s blood that Albert had prepared, telling her to go find Race and Jack before it’s too late and that they’d handle it.

That does not go well either.

Race manages to nearly get back to Romeo only to be stopped by Jack who is looking even more distant and withdrawn than usual. Jack claims to know exactly where Romeo is and offers to take him. Reluctantly, Race follows, unsure of what’s gotten into his friend.

Jack leads him to an empty cage and tries to shove him inside as Race realizes that Jack must be under some kind of spell. Race manages to begin and fight, seeing first hand how strong and trained Jack is as the young man easily gets the better of him, throwing him in the cage and locking it, beginning to walk away before Race taps him with the special stick that Albert had given him.

Jack collapses to the floor.

Race calls for Jack, nearly worried he killed him before he bangs on the metal and startles Jack awake. Jack looks around, asking what happened as Race asks how he knows it’s really Jack in which Jack replies that he’d kick Race’s ass if he ever did that again.

Jack let’s Race out and they work together to go find Romeo, at a loss for what to do until they realize that The Grand Guignol still believes Jack is under his control. Jack lures The Grand Guignol out into the open and Race prepares to launch a sneak attack on the nightmare to take him down.

But the nightmare anticipates this and catches Race by the throat when Race tries to jump at him. Jack panics at seeing Race like that, the boy who reminded him somewhat of his own little brother, unable to breathe or fight back, so he tries to help, revealing he’s no longer under the spell and manages to get the Grand Guignol off of Race only to be thrown backwards. The wind is knocked out of him but he tries to make a deal. He’d trade places with Race and Romeo. The Grand Guignol could have him if he just let the other boys go.

The nightmare thinks this over for a moment before stating that he’d rather just take all three of them.

Katherine shows up just before The Grand “Weasel,” as Race spits at him, can lock them up again. She has the angel’s blood, Weasel’s one weakness, and tries to throw it to Race but it is caught by the nightmare himself. Katherine rushes over to a still breathless Jack, helping him breathe as Weasel just laughs at them all.

But, managing to distract Weasel, Race takes the angel's blood with the nightmare’s own hand and plunges the thing into his heart, killing him.

The three rush to Romeo as soon as Jack can take a deep breath again and wake the terrified boy up. Romeo explains that The Grand Guignol had been planning on bringing the nightmare realm to the real world by using Romeo’s nightmares and bringing them to life. Race scoops Romeo up as Jack says the nightmares are still alive and that Romeo’s the only one who can stop them.

It shocks Race a little how good Jack is with kids.

They take Romeo to his brewed nightmares. Race encourages him to tell them that he’s not scared of them anymore. Jack pats him on the shoulder and tells him that he’s stronger than them, that he created them so they were no match for him. So Romeo walks into the room and tells all of the nightmares that he’s not scared of them anymore, causing them to all disappear like they’d never even been there.

The boy then nearly passes out and Jack carries him out, taking the kids back to Romeo’s house just before Romeo’s mother arrives. By then, Romeo is already passed out in bed, his room cleaned up and perfect.

Jack takes Race home, lending him his tablet and telling him to study up because he thinks he can swing getting Mama Medda (the President of their chapter) to let a kid in as long as they have Race’s skills.

Upon arriving back at home, Race gets a phone call from Spot Conlon who asks him out on a date.

And everything is going just swimmingly.

At least, for now.

This was a fun one. Happy Halloween, ya’ll!

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yeah-im-weak-and-wanting · 4 years ago

Text

this started as a short, incoherent thing of me projecting/processing my own shit and it turned into that but longer.

tw; discussions of death, grief, complicated/confusing grief

(quick note that probably unnecessary but oh well, because this is me projecting and cause I can i would like to add; this is a modern!AU but still like, Witchers and mages but there was no djinn death wish)

His phone isn’t groaning with how tightly he’s holding it, or whatever clichéd description one could give. Partially because he isn’t gripping it tightly at all and partially because it is a phone and he is a human being, or close enough.

He’s seen Lambert breaking a phone by gripping too tight, can’t remember why though.

Grip still loose, he stares down at the dark screen. Maybe squeezing would help? Gripping right until his knuckles bleach and the indents in his palm linger. Is that how he should be feeling?

There’s a shout from in front of him and a flailed movement, Lambert’s indignation clear in response to whatever Eskel just said. Yen sighs from the passenger seat, glancing at the driver’s seat to share an exasperated look with Vesemir. Geralt says nothing from where he’s crammed between his brothers. They’re loud and rowdy but he knows if he opened his mouth they would all listen. He could tell them.

He should tell them. He’s the one who pushes for them to be open, to be honest, to not try to go it alone. But they- for them it’s not-

Besides, he’s said it once. Said the words out loud and once is still reversible. Once could still be a mistake. Once can be taken back and he won’t be left here so confused and unsure and- and and and. Gods, hollow maybe? Drained and numb, only barely present in the moment. He knows disassociation but he’s drifted away from applying the knowledge.

It’s just that- he didn’t exactly like the guy and it’d be shitty to start lying about it now. They were forced friends, stuck in proximity for long periods of time and working together, interacting positively. And he can’t prove the “see I’ve got a gay friend” tokenism, just knew the vibe, judged by other things and he was pretty sure he was right. But, but there was never anything clear. Anything certain. Just knowing who else the other hung out with and what they were like. Just the other man being unfailingly kind to him. Not with any fakeness or agenda. Just kindness. Just memories that aren’t all that bad. Good ones even.

And Essi’s voice was so, so desperate on the phone, desperate for him to take the words back. He didn’t say them again but the shaky confirmation wasn’t any better. Priscilla choked on the words while telling him. He needs to tell- he was going to- but Yen knocked on his hotel room door and told him to hurry up before he could. He will, he just-

Geralt grumbles about the radio station, leaning forward as if he thinks he’ll actually be able to reach it.

“Valdo’s dead.”

He says it a second time. He kind of wants a tear to drop down onto his phone screen, the dramatic realization that he’s crying. A cinematic staging with crystalline liquid on a dark screen. A dam breaking to clear, understandable emotions, he didn’t like the guy. But nothing he just feels vaguely nauseous and so very lost.

Lambert chuckles, “Gods, what’d the guy do this time?”

“Not like- I don’t mean- he’s-“ fuck it’s still not real and he knows the saying is third times the charm so he switches, he can’t say those words again. “He was driving back from- I don’t- he was driving- there was- was behind a wrecker- I don’t know.”

The radio cuts out, Yen getting it off on the second attempt, he’s pretty sure they’ve all turned to look at him. Not Vesemir. He’s driving gods, he’s driving he shouldn’t distract him, what if-

“Wait, Jask, you’re not- you’re not complaining about something he did, you’re saying he was...”

“Priscilla texted me. Asked to call. One of our, she got told and realized I’d need to know. Want to know. I’m- I told Essi, still need to- I’ve still got to talk to the others.”

It’s silent then, no other cars near them, just them, their engine. It’s dark outside. Priscilla said it happened in the afternoon. Early afternoon. The one article from the local news from the area where it happened -hours away from where they are, hours away from where Valdo lives, fuck, not lives- said 2:06pm. It wasn’t dark then.

It’s silent and Jaskier waits for the detached comment, an acknowledgment that it’s sad. Everyone’s heard his bitching about the other man, has had their own gripes from their interactions with him. And maybe he shouldn��t be affected? That seems cruel, seems wrong. That’s not what he means. It’s sad even when strangers die. Maybe he shouldn’t be so affected. He’s not- is he affected? He doesn’t fucking know, he’s just so lost.

He waits for the “oh that’s sad, moving on-”, eyes squeezing shut tight enough that they water. And that aches. He’s not crying. He wants to because that’s a concrete something he knows how to identify. Something he has words for.

There’s a click, movement, rustling, a weird amalgamation of them. And suddenly weight and warmth. Jaskier jerks and blinks his eyes open.

Geralt’s half over the seat back and dragging himself the rest of the way. There’s a couple of grunts -not from just Geralt’s, but from his brothers too. The other Witchers shove him and Geralt half-falls the rest of the way in jerky stutters. He manages to mostly aim himself to the seat next to Jaskier but not completely and some limb -Jaskier’s not honestly sure, he’s not willing to care enough to figure it out- lands in his lap. Geralt rights himself quickly enough.

There’s a quiet, “no, you don’t need go to as well” but Jaskier doesn’t know who said it or to whom. He looks back down at his phone, the screen’s still dark. He’s not waiting for a message from Valdo, they didn’t text all that much. He’s not waiting for a message but waiting for a message, for a call, for something is the narrative image he knows, and that would be something.

“Hey.” Geralt’s voice isn’t quiet or soft. It isn’t that clear attempt at comforting that people do and that- the fact that it’s not, the fact that it’s just familiarly Geralt helps. Because that usual comforting attempt is that identifiable reaction and Jaskier doesn’t know what he’s feeling. What he’s supposed to be feeling.

Jaskier flips his phone a few times. “I- I checked. Googled it. Happened yesterday. When we- while we were at IKEA.” His voice is part way towards flat but not all the way there.

“You were on the phone when I knocked.” It’s not a question, just a quiet acknowledgement with a note of apology. Yen had been annoyed when she knocked. Reasonably so. Jaskier had been edging towards lateness and she didn’t know.”

“Was Essi. She didn’t-” Essi’s young. She’s lost people, grandparents, an aunt. But never some one closer in age. Never this, this suddenly. And grief is grief. And despite what some angsty assholes may half-boast about, there’s no getting better at it. There’s no being an old hat at it. Everyone grieves differently and each grief, each loss is different. So there’s no- there’s no right way or one way to feel.

He knows he should listen to that himself but, but, but it’s different. That’s not-

Geralt doesn’t lean over, instead scots over, pressed close against Jaskier, warmth immediately sinking in. Warm is alive. Alive. Valdo’s not- Valdo wasn’t actually a good hugger, loose and an awkward hold. But warm. And now- now he’s-

The fucking article said enough for Jaskier to work out how the accident happened. And Google didn’t help- told him what the back end of the other vehicle was like- he can figure out what- what-

Fuck.

“Geralt, I-” He’s still not crying, his voice isn’t breaking, isn’t cracking but it is chipping. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”

It’s not fair for him to do this to the other man. He’s supposed to help Geralt, help the others figure out their emotions and their shit. And now, now he doesn’t know. He’s supposed to know, supposed to be the one who-

This time it’s his seatbelt that clicks -he’s the one that clicks it but it’s disconnected from his thinking- and he moves. Twists into Geralt’s warmth. Geralt doesn’t hesitate, he’s always been all confident action, wraps him close. They shift a smidge until it’s comfortable. Seatbelts are important. Valdo was wearing his the article said. He’s pressed close and feels Geralt’s chest move when he talks, “You don’t have to, you don’t have to. Jaskier, you don’t have to be the one who knows.”

Apparently he said some of that aloud. At least he can fulfill one cliché.

“Wolf’s right, Buttercup. Don’t hafta know. ‘Specially not right now.” Lambert’s never been one for pity. No one in this car is. But Lambert’s self-proclaimed asshole status is one he works to live up to. He’s saying this because he believes it.

“I didn’t like him.”

“That’s not how this works. Not how grief works.”

A clicking starts. The turn signal. It’s the turn for Kaer Morhen. Not that anyone else in the world would know. They’re not exactly close to getting there but their closer. Two more hours in their four hour drive.

“It’s fucking stupid.”

“You looked up articles?”

Eskel’s question doesn’t come out of left field cause Jaskier knows everyone in the car knows him well enough to know he’d done exactly that. “Yeah.”

“Oh, Jaskier.” It’s not pitying or scolding. Just soft and kind. “That was also fucking stupid.” It’s still Yen. She means it kindly.

“Yup.”

There’s a huffed breath, “I’m already doing the same.”

“Don’t.”

A second huffed breath says that Lambert is doing it anyway. Jaskier’s got a wild imagination and too much creativity but everyone in the car does too, in their own way. And the information is enough anyway. But Lambert, the others, they’re Witcher. An unimaginably powerful sorceress. This is- they’ve lost and seen and- a car accident isn’t-

“Fucking hell.” Lambert’s voice is steady and sure. “‘S real.”

Jaskier doesn’t take offense. He knows the other man believed him. But seeing someone reporting on it is different.

It’s also, it’s also, it’s also-

Lambert’s saying it now. Saying it with gravity and heaviness.

The weight drops, the one he hadn’t realized had been pressing down on him. His chest felt hollow before but now-

Now a wind blows through his veins, empty in every limb. The poetic part of him likens his body to a winterbare tree, branches empty and bandied about by winter gales. He still doesn’t cry because of course not. Why would it be easy. Why should how he feels make sense why can’t he just figure it fucking out.

Blunt fingernails run over his scalp, steady pressure against his head. Geralt’s other arm around his waist, a single finger tapping against Jaskier’s hip. The same grounding Jaskier’s used on the other man. Vesemir hums tunelessly. The oldest Witcher does that often enough for the sound to slot in seamlessly. Not stand out as an uncharacteristic attempt at comfort.

He doesn’t know how to feel, how to think, what to do but he does know that this car is full of people who will help, who will care.

Jaskier waits for that to be enough.

It isn’t.

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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Enola Holmes: A Not So Elementary Adaptation

It's cliché and a bit unfair to say that the book was better than the film, but I'm afraid that's precisely where I need to start. Nancy Springer's Enola Holmes: The Case of the Missing Marquess is leagues better than Netflix's adaptation of it. They did her work dirty and to say that I'm shocked at the accolades other reviewers are heaping on the film is an understatement. Before I dive into any critiques though, it's worth acknowledging that not every minute of the two hour film was painful to get through. So what worked in Enola Holmes?

The film is carried by the talent of its cast, Millie Bobby Brown being the obvious heavy-hitter. She helps breathe life into a pretty terrible script and it's only a shame her talent is wasted on such a subpar character.

The idea to have Enola continually break the fourth wall, though edging into the realm of Dora the Explorer at times—"Do you have any ideas?"— was nevertheless a fun way to keep the audience looped into her thought process. Young viewers in particular might enjoy it as a way to make them feel like a part of the action and older viewers will note the Fleabag influence.

The cinematography is, perhaps, where most of my praise lies. The rapid cuts between past and present, rewinding as Enola thinks back to some pertinent detail, visualizing the cyphers with close ups on the letter tiles—all of it gave the film an upbeat, entertaining flair that almost made up for how bloated and meandering the plot was.

We got an equally upbeat soundtrack that helped to sell the action.

The overall experience was... fine. In the way a cobbled together, candy-coated, meant to be seen on a Friday night but we watched it Wednesday and then promptly forgot about it film is fine. I doubt Enola Holmes will be winning any awards, but it was a decently entertaining romp and really, does a Netflix film need to be anything more? If Enola was her own thing made entirely by Netflix's hands I wouldn't be writing this review. As it stands though, Enola is both an adaptation and the latest addition to one of the world’s most popular franchises. That's where the film fails: not as a fun diversion to take your mind off Covid-19, but as an adaptation of Springer's work and as a Sherlock Holmes story.

In short, Enola Holmes, though pretty to look at and entertaining in a predictable manner, still fails in five crucial areas:

1. Mycroft is Now a Mustache-Twirling Villain and Sherlock is No Longer Sherlock Holmes

This aspect is the least egregious because admittedly the film didn't pull this version of Mycroft out of thin air. As the head of the household he is indeed Enola's primary antagonist (outside of some kidnappers) and though he insists that he's doing all this for Enola's own good, he does get downright cruel at times:

He rolled his eyes. “Just like her mother,” he declared to the ceiling, and then he fixed upon me a stare so martyred, so condescending, that I froze rigid. In tones of sweetest reason he told me, “Enola, legally I hold complete charge over both your mother and you. I can, if I wish, lock you in your room until you become sensible, or take whatever other measures are necessary in order to achieve that desired result... You will do as I say" (Springer 69).

Mycroft's part is clear. He's the white, rich, powerful, able-bodied man who benefits from society's structure and thus would never think to change it. He does legally have charge over both Enola and Eudoria. He can do whatever he pleases to make them "sensible"... and that right there is the horror of it. Mycroft is a law-abiding man whose antagonism stems from doing precisely what he's allowed to do in a broken world. There are certainly elements of this in the Netflix adaptation, but that antagonism becomes so exaggerated that it's nearly laughable. Enola's governess (appointed by Mycroft) slaps her across the face the moment she speaks up. Mycroft screams at her in a carriage until she's cowering against the window. He takes her and throws her into a boarding school where everything is bleak and all the women dutifully follow instructions like hypnotized dolls. Enola Holmes ensures that we've lost all of Springer's nuance, notably the criticism of otherwise decent people who fall into the trap of doing the "right" (read: expected) thing. Despite her desire for freedom, in the novel Enola quickly realizes that she is not immune to society's standards:

"I thought he was younger.” Much younger, in his curled tresses and storybook suit. Twelve! Why, the boy should be wearing a sturdy woollen jacket and knickers, an Eton collar with a tie, and a decent manly haircut—

Thoughts, I realised, all too similar to those of my brother Sherlock upon meeting me (113-14).

She is precisely like her brothers, judging a boy for not looking and acting enough like a man just as they judged her for not looking and acting enough like a lady. The difference is that Enola has chaffed enough against those expectations to realize when she's falling prey to them, but the sympathetic link to her brothers remains. In the film, however, the conflict is no longer driven by fallible people doing what they think is best. Rather, it's made clear (in no uncertain terms) that these are just objectively bad people. Only villains hit someone like that. Only villains will scream at the top of their lungs until a young girl cries. Only villains roll their eyes at women's rights (a subplot that never existed in the novel). Springer writes Mycroft as a person, Netflix writes him as a cartoon, and the result is the loss of a nuanced message about what it means to enact change in a complicated world.

Which leaves us with Sherlock. Note that in the above passage he is the one who casts harsh judgement on Enola's outfit. Originally Mycroft took an interest in making Enola "sensible" and Sherlock— in true Holmes fashion—straddles a fine line between comfort and insult:

"Mycroft,” Sherlock intervened, “the girl's head, you'll observe, is rather small in proportion to her remarkably tall body. Let her alone. There is no use confusing and upsetting her when you'll find out for yourself soon enough'" (38).

***

"Could mean that she left impulsively and in haste, or it could reflect the innate untidiness of a woman's mind,” interrupted Sherlock. “Of what use is reason when it comes to the dealings of a woman, and very likely one in her dotage?" (43).

A large part of Enola's drive stems from proving to Sherlock, the world, and even herself that a small head does not mean lack of intelligence. His insults, couched in a misguided attempt to sooth, is what makes Sherlock a complex character and his broader sexism is what makes him a flawed character, not Superman in a tweed suit. Yet in the film Mycroft becomes the villain and Sherlock is his good brother foil. Rather than needing to acknowledge that Enola has a knack for deduction by reading the excellent questions she's asked about the case—because why give your characters any development?—he already adores and has complete faith in her, laughing that he too likes to draw caricatures to think. By the tree Sherlock remanences fondly about Enola's childhood where she demonstrated appropriately quirky preferences for a genius, things like not wearing trousers and keeping a pinecone for a pet. They have a clear connection that Mycroft could never understand, one based both in deduction and, it seems, being a halfway decent human being. We are told that Enola has Sherlock's wits, but poor Mycroft lucked out, despite the fact that up until this point the film has done nothing to demonstrate this supposed intelligence. (To say nothing of how canonically Mycroft's intellect rivals his brother's.) Enola falls to her knees and begs for Sherlock's help, saying that "For [Mycroft] I'm a nuisance, to you—" implying that they have a deep bond despite not having seen one another since Enola was a toddler. Indeed, at one point Enola challenges Lestrade to a Sherlock quiz filled with information presumably not found in the newspaper clippings she's saved of him, which begs the question of how she knows her brother so well when she hasn't seen him in a decade and he, in turn, walked right by her with no recognition. Truthfully, Lestrade should know Sherlock better. Through all this the sibling bond is used as a heavy-handed insistence that Enola is Sherlock's protégé, him leaving her with the advice that "Those kinds of mysteries are always the best to unpick” and straight up asking at one point if she’s solved the case. The plot has Enola gearing up to outwit her genius brother, which did not happen in the novel and is precisely why I loved it. Enola isn't out to be a master of deduction in her teens, she's a finder of lost people who uses a similar, but ultimately unique set of skills. She does things Sherlock can't because she is isn't Sherlock. They're not in competition, they're peers, yet the film fails to understand that, using Sherlock's good brother bonding to emphasize Enola's place as his protégé turned superior. He exists, peppered throughout the film, so that she can surpass him in the end.

You know what happens in the novel? Sherlock walks away from her, dismissive, and that's that.

That's also Sherlock Holmes. I won't bore you with complaints about Cavill being too handsome and Claflin being too thin for their respective parts, but I will draw the line at complete character assassination. Part of Sherlock's charm is that he's far more compassionate than he first appears, but that doesn't mean he would, at the drop of a telegram, become a doting older brother to a sister of all things. Despite the absurdity of the Doyle Estate's lawsuit against Netflix for making Sherlock an emotional man who respects women... they're right that this isn't their character. Oh, Sherlock is emotive, but it's in the form of excited exclamations over clues, or the occasional warm word towards Watson—someone he has known and lived with for many years. Sherlock respects women, though it's through those societal expectations. He'll offer them a seat, an ear, a handkerchief if they need one, and always the promise of help, but he then dismisses them with, "The fairer sex is your department, Watson." Springer successfully wrote Sherlock Holmes with a little sister, a man who will bark out a laugh at her caricature but still leave her to Mycroft's whims because he has his own life to tend to. This is a man who insists that the mind of a woman is inscrutable and thus must grapple with his shock at Enola's ability to cover the "salient points" of the case (58). Cavill's Sherlock is no Sherlock at all and though there's nothing wrong with updating a character for a modern audience (see: Elementary), I do question why Netflix strayed so far from Springer's work. The novel is, after all, their blueprint. She already managed the difficult task of writing an in-character Sherlock Holmes who remains approachable to both a modern audience and Enola herself, yet for some reason Netflix tossed that work aside.

2. Enola is "Special,” Not At All Like Other Girls

Allow me to paint you a picture. Enola Holmes is an empathetic, fourteen-year-old girl who, while bright, does not possess an intelligence worthy of note. No one is gasping as she deduces seemingly impossible things from the age of four, or admiring her knowledge of some obscure, appropriately impressive topic. Rather, Enola is a fairly normal girl with an abnormal upbringing, characterized by her patience and willingness to work. Deciphering the many hiding places where her mother stashed cash takes her weeks, requiring that Enola work through the night in secrecy while maintaining appearances during the day. She manages to hatch a plan of escape that demonstrates the thought she's put into it without testing the reader's suspension of disbelief. More than that, she uses the feminine tools at her disposal to give herself an edge: hiding her face behind a widow's veil and storing luggage in the bustle of her dress. Upon achieving freedom, her understanding of another lonely boy leads her to try and help him, resulting in a dangerous kidnapping wherein Enola acts as most fourteen-year-olds would, scared out of her mind with a few moments of bravery born of pure survival instinct. She and Tewksbury escape together, as friends, before Enola sets out on becoming the first scientific perditorian, a finder of lost people.

Sadly, this new Enola shares little resemblance with her novel counterpart. What Netflix seemingly fails to understand is that giving a character flaws makes them relatable and that someone who looks more like us is someone we can connect with. This Enola, simply put, is extraordinary. She's read all the books in the library, knows science, tennis, painting, archery, and a deadly form of Jujitsu (more on that below). In the novel Enola bemoans that she was never particularly good at cyphers and now must improve if she has any hope of reading what her mother left her. In the film she simply knows the answers, near instantaneously. Enola masters her travels, her disguises, and her deductions, all with barely a hitch. Though Enola doesn't have impressive detective skills yet, her memory is apparently photographic, allowing her to look back on a single glance into a room, years ago, and untangle precisely what her mother was planning. It's a BBC Sherlock-esque form of 'deduction' wherein there's no real thought involved, just an innate ability to recall a newspaper across the room with perfect clarity. The one thing Enola can't do well is ride a bike which, considering that in the novel she quite enjoys the activity, feels like a tacked on "flaw" that the film never has to have her grapple with.

More than simply expanding upon her skillset—because let’s be real, it’s not like Sherlock himself doesn’t have an impressive list of accomplishments. Even if Enola’s feelings of inadequacy are part of the point Springer was working to make—the film changes the core of her personality. I cannot stress enough that Enola is a sheltered fourteen-year-old who is devastated by the disappearance of her mother and terrified by the new world she's entered. That fear, uncertainty, and the numerous mistakes that come out of it is what allowed me to connect with Enola and go, "Yeah. I can see myself in her." Meanwhile, this new Enola is overwhelmingly confident, to the point where I felt like I was watching a child's fantasy of a strong woman rather than one who actually demonstrates strength by overcoming challenges. For example, contrast her meeting with Sherlock and Mycroft on the train platform with what we got in the film:

"And to my annoyance, I found myself trembling as I hopped off my bicycle. A strip of lace from my pantalets, confounded flimsy things, caught on the chain, tore loose, and dangled over my left boot.

Trying to tuck it up, I dropped my shawl.

This would not do. Taking a deep breath, leaving my shawl on my bicycle and my bicycle leaning against the station wall, I straightened and approached the two Londoners, not quite succeeding in holding my head high" (31-32).

***

"Well, if they did not desire the pleasure of my conversation, it was a good thing, as I stood mute and stupid... 'I don't know where she's gone,' I said, and to my own surprise—for I had not wept until that moment—I burst into tears" (34).

I'd ask where this frightened, fumbling Enola has gone, but it's clear that she never existed in the script to begin with. The film is chock-full of her being, to be frank, a badass. She gleefully beats up the bad guys in perfect form, no, "I froze, cowering, like a rabbit in a thicket" (164). This Enola always gets the last word in and never falters in her confident demeanor, no, "I wish I could say I swept with cold dignity out of the room, but the truth is, I tripped over my skirt and stumbled up the stairs" (70). Enola is the one, special girl in an entire school who can see how rigid and horrible these social expectations are, straining against them while all her lesser peers roll their eyes. That's how she's characterized: as "special," right from the get-go, and that eliminates any growth she might have experienced over the course of the film. More than that, it feels like a slap in the face to Springer's otherwise likeable, well-rounded character.

3. A Focus on Hollywood Action and Those Strong Female Characters

It never fails to amaze me how often Sherlock Holmes adaptations fail to remember that he is, at his core, an intellectual. Sure, there's the occasional story where Sherlock puts his boxing or singlestick skills to good use, and he did survive his encounter with Moriarty thanks to his own martial arts, but these moments are rarities across the canon. Pick up any Sherlock Holmes story, open to a random page, and you will find him sitting fireside to mule over a case, donning a disguise to observe the suspects, or combing through his many papers to find that one, necessary scrap of information. Sherlock Holmes is about deduction, a series of observations and conclusions based on logic. He's not an action hero. Nor is Enola, yet Netflix seems to be under the impression that no audience can survive a two hour film without something exploding.

I'd like to present a concise list of things that happened in the film that were, in my opinion, unnecessary:

Enola and Tewksbury throw themselves out of a moving train to miraculously land unharmed on the grass below.

Enola uses the science knowledge her mother gave her to ignite a whole room of gunpowder and explosives, resulting in a spectacle that somehow doesn't kill her pursuer.

Enola engages in a long shootout with her attacker, Tewksbury takes a shot straight to the chest, but survives because of a breastplate he only had a few seconds to put on and hide beneath his shirt. Then Enola succeeds in killing Burn Gorman's slimy character.

Enola beats up her attackers many, many times.

This right here is the worst change to her character. Enola is, plainly put, a "strong woman." Literally. She was trained from a young age to kick ass and now that's precisely what she'll do. Gone is the unprepared but brave girl who heads out onto the dangerous London streets in the hope of helping her mother and a young boy. What does this Enola have to fear? There's only one martial arts move she hasn't mastered yet and, don't worry, she gets it by the end of the film. Enola suffers from the Hollywood belief that strong women are defined solely as physically capable women and though there's nothing wrong with that on the surface, the archetype has become so prevalent that any deviation is seen as too weak—too princess-y—to be considered feminist. If you're not kicking ass and taking names then you can only be passive, right? Stuck in a tower somewhere and awaiting your prince. But what about me? I have no ability to flip someone over my shoulder and throw them into a wall. What about pacifists? What about the disabled? By continually claiming that this is what a "strong" woman looks like you eliminate a huge number of women from this pool. The women we are meant to uphold in this film—Enola, her Mother, and her Mother's friend from the teahouse—are all fighters of the physical variety, whereas the bad women like Mrs. Harris and her pupils are too cultured for self-defense. They're too feminine to be feminist. But feminism isn't about your ability to throw a punch. Enola's success now derives from being the most talented and the most violent in the room, rather than the most determined, smart, and empathetic. She threatens people and lunges at them, reminding others that she's perfectly capable of tying up a guy is she so chooses because "I know Jujitsu." Enola possesses a power that is just as fantastical as kissing a frog into a prince. In sixteen short years she has achieved what no real life woman ever will: the ability to go wherever she pleases and do whatever she wants without the threat of violence. Because Enola is the violence. While her attacker is attempting to drown her with somewhat horrific realism, Enola takes the time to wink at the audience before rearing back and bloodying his nose. After all, why would you think she was in any danger? Masters of Jujitsu with an uncanny ability to dodge bullets don't have anything to fear... unlike every woman watching this film.

It's certainly some kind of wish fulfillment, a fantasy to indulge in, but I personally preferred the original Enola who never had any Hollywood skills at her disposal yet still managed to come out on top. That's a character I can see myself in and want to see myself in given that the concept of non-violent strength is continually pushed to the wayside. Not to mention... that's a Sherlock Holmes story. Coming out on top through intellect and bravery alone is the entire point of the genre, so why Netflix felt the need to turn Enola into an action hero is beyond me.

4. Aging Up the Protagonists (and Giving Them an Eye-Rolling Romance)

The choice to age up our heroes is, arguably, the worst decision here. In the original novel Enola has just turned fourteen and Tewksbury is a child, twelve-years-old, though he looks even younger. It's a story for a younger audience staring appropriately young heroes, with the protagonists' status as children crucial to one of the overarching themes of the story: what does it really mean to strike out on your own and when are you ready for it? Adding two years to Enola's age is something I'm perfectly fine with. After all, the difference between fourteen and sixteen isn't that great and Brown herself is sixteen until February of 2021, so why not aim for realism and make her character the same? That's all reasonable and this is, indeed, an adaptation. No need to adhere to every detail of the text. What puzzles me though is why in the world they would take a terrified, sassy, compassionate twelve-year-old and turn him into a bumbling seventeen-year-old instead?

Ah yes. The romance.

In the same way that I fail to understand the assumption that a film needs over-the-top action to be entertaining, I likewise fail to understand the assumption that it needs a romance—and a heterosexual one to boot. There's something incredibly discomforting in watching a film that so loudly proclaim itself as feminist, yet it takes the strong friendship between two children and turns it into an incredibly awkward, hetero True Love story. Remember when Enola loudly proclaims that she doesn't want a husband? The film didn't, because an hour later she's stroking her hand over Tewksbury's while twirling her hair. Which isn't to say that women can't fall in love, or change their minds, just that it's disheartening to see a supposedly feminist film so completely fall into one of the biggest expectations for women, even today. Forget Enola running up to men and paying them for their clothes as an expression of freedom, is anyone going to acknowledge that narratively she’s still stuck living the life the men around her want? Find yourself a husband, Enola. The heavy implication is she did, just with Jujitsu rather than embroidery. Different method, same message, and that’s incredibly frustrating when this didn’t exist in the original story. “It's about freedom!” the film insists. So why didn't you give Enola the freedom to have a platonic adventure?

It's not even a good romance. Rather painful, really. When Tewksbury, after meeting her just once before, passionately says "I don't want to leave you, Enola" because her company is apparently more important than him staying alive, I literally laughed out loud. It's ridiculous and it's ridiculously precisely because it was shoe-horned into a story that didn't need it. More than simply saddling Enola with a bland love interest though, this leads to a number of unfortunate changes in the story's plot, both unnecessary additions and disappointing exclusions. Enola no longer meets Tewksbury after they've both been kidnapped (him for ransom and her for snooping into his case), but rather watches him cut himself out of a carpetbag on the train. I hope I don't have to explain which of these scenarios is more likely and, thus, more satisfying. Meeting Tewksbury on the train means that Enola gets to have a nighttime chat with him about precisely why he ran away. Thus, when she goes to his estate she no longer needs to deduce his hiding spot based on her own desires to have a place of her own, she just needs to recall that a very big branch nearly fell on him and behold, there that branch is. (The fact that the branch is a would-be murder weapon makes its convenient placement all the more eye-rolling.) Rather than involving herself in the case out of empathy for the family, Enola loudly proclaims that she wants nothing to do with Tewksbury and only reluctantly gets involved when it's clear his life is on the line. And that right there is another issue. In the novel there is no murderous plot in an attempt to keep reform bills from passing. Tewksbury is a child who, like Enola, ran away and quickly discovers that life with an overbearing mother isn't so bad when you've experienced London's dangerous streets. That's the emotional blow: Enola has no mother to go home to anymore and must press out onto those streets whether she's ready for it or not.

Perhaps the only redeeming change is giving Tewksbury an interest in flowers instead of ships. Regardless of how overly simplistic the feminist message is, it is a nice touch to give the guy a traditionally feminine hobby while Enola sharpens her knife. The fact that Enola learned that from her mother and Tewksbury learned botany from his father feels like a nudge at a far better film than Enola Holmes managed to be. For every shining moment of insight—the constraints of gendered hobbies, a black working class woman informing Sherlock that he can never understand what it means to lack power—the film gives us twenty minutes worth of frustrating stupidity. Such as how Enola doesn't seem to conceive of escaping from boarding school until Tewksbury appears to rescue her. She then proceeds to get carried around in a basket for a few minutes before going out the window... which she could have done on her own at any point, locked doors or no. But it seems that narrative consistency isn't worth more than Enola (somehow) leaving a caricature of Mrs. Harris and Mycroft behind. The film is clearly trying to promote a "Rah, rah, go, women, go!" message, but fails to understand that having Enola find a way out of the school herself would be more emotionally fulfilling than having her send a generic 'You're mean' message after the two men in her life—Sherlock and Tewksbury—remind her that she can, in fact, take action.

Which brings me to my biggest criticism and what I would argue is the film's greatest flaw. Reviewers and fans alike are hailing Enola Holmes as a feminist masterpiece and yes, to a certain extent it is. Feminist, that is, not a masterpiece. (5) But it's a hollow feminism. A fantasy feminism. A simple, exaggerated feminism that came out of a Feminism 101 PowerPoint. To quote Sherlock, let's review the salient points:

A woman cannot be the star of her own film without having a male love interest, even if this goes against everything the original novel stood for.

A feminist woman cannot also be selfish. Instead she must have a selfless drive to change the world with bombs.

The best kind of women are those who reject femininity as much as they can. They will wear boy's clothes whenever possible and snub their nose at something as useless as embroidery. Any woman who enjoys such skills or desires to become lady-like just hasn't realized the sort of prison she's in yet.

The best women also embody other masculine traits, like being able to take down men twice their size. Passive women will titter behind their hands. Active women will kick you in the balls. If you really want to be a strong woman, learn how to throw a decent punch.

Women are, above all, superior to men.

Yes, yes, I joke about it just as much as the next woman, but seeing it played fairly straight was a bit of an uncomfortable experience, even more-so during a gender revolution where stories like this leave trans, nonbinary, and genderqueer viewers out of the ideological loop. Enola goes on and on about what a "useless boy" Tewksbury is (though of course she must still be attracted to him) and her mother's teachings are filled with lessons about not listening to men. As established, Mycroft—and Lestrade—are the simplistically evil men Enola must circumvent, whereas Sherlock exists for her to gain victory over: "How did your sister get there first?" Enola supposedly has a strength that Tewksbury lacks— he's just "foolish"—and she shouts out such cringe-worthy lines as, "You're a man when I tell you you're a man!"

I get the message, I really do. As a teenager I probably would have loved it, but now I have to ask: aren't we past the image of men-hating feminists? Granted, the film never goes quite that far, but it gets close. We’ve got one woman who is ready to start blowing things up to achieve equality and another who revels in looking down on the men in her life. That’s been the framing for years, that feminists are cruel, dangerous people and Tewksbury making heart-eyes at Enola doesn’t instantly fix the echoes of that. There's a certain amount of justification for both characterizations—we have reached points in history where peaceful protests are no longer enough and Tewksbury is indeed a fool at times—but that nuance is entirely lost among the film's overall message of "Women rule, men drool." It feels like there’s a smart film hidden somewhere between the grandmother murdering to keep the status quo and Enola’s mother bombing for change, that balance existing in Enola herself who does the most for women by protecting Tewkesbury... but Enola Holmes is too busy juggling all the different films it wants to be to really hit on that message. It certainly doesn’t have time to say anything worthwhile about the fight it’s using as a backdrop. Enola gasps that "Mycroft is right. You are dangerous" when she finds her mother's bombs, but does she ever grapple with whether she supports violence on a large scale in the name of creating a better world? Does she work through this sudden revelation that she agrees with Mycroft about something crucial? Of course not. Enola just hugs her mom, asks Sherlock not to go after her, and the film leaves it at that.

The takeaway is less one of empowerment and more, ironically, of restriction. You can fight, but only via bombs and punches. It's okay to be a woman, provided you don't like too many feminine things. You can save the day, so long as there's a man at your side poised to marry you in the future. I felt like I was watching a pre-2000s script where "equality" means embracing the idea that you're "not like other girls" so that men will finally take you seriously. Because then you don't really feel like a woman to them anymore, do you? You're a martial arts loving, trouser-wearing, loud and brilliant individual who just happens to have long hair. You’re unique and, therefore, worthy of attention, unlike all those other girls.

That's some women's experiences, but far from all, and crucially I don't think this is the woman that Springer wrote in her novel.

The Case of the Missing Marquess is a feminist book. It gives us a flawed, brave, intelligent woman who sets out to help people and achieves just that, mostly through her own strength, but also with some help from the young boy she befriends. Her brothers are privileged, misguided men who she nevertheless cares for deeply and her mother finally puts herself first, leaving Enola to go and live with the Romani people. Everyone in Springer's book feels human, the women especially. Enola gets to tremble her way through scary decisions while still remaining brave. Her mother gets to be selfish while still remaining loving. They're far more than just women blessed with extraordinary talents who will take what they want by force. Springer's women? They don't have that Hollywood glamour. They're pretty ordinary, actually, despite the surface quirks. They’re like us and thus they must make use of what tools they have in order to change their own situations as well as the world. The fact that they still succeed feels very feminist to me, far more-so than granting your character the ability to flip a man into the ground and calling it a day.

Know that I watched Enola Holmes with a friend over Netflix Party and the repeated comment from us both was, "I'd rather be watching The Great Mouse Detective." Enola Holmes is by no means a horrible film. It has beauty, comedy, and a whole lot of heart, but it could have been leagues better given its source material and the talent of its cast. It’s a film that tries to do too much without having a firm grasp of its own message and, as a result, becomes a film mostly about missed potential. Which leads me right back to where I began: The book is better. Go read the book.

Images

Enola Holmes

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Enola and her Mother Doing Archery

Enola and her Mother Fighting

Tewkesbury and Enola

#Sherlock Holmes #Enola Holmes #mymetas

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