#peter mitchell sucks

[shellshocklove]

conversation | peter parker

pairing: college!peter parker x college!female!reader

summary: peter parker is in the friendzone. and it sucks. especially when the girl he’s in love with is dating his best friend. smack dab in the middle of a bad situation peter struggles to keep his feelings at bay when the girl of his dreams comes to him for advice about her failing relationship.

warnings: i guess post!nwh, swearing, cheating, peter pining for reader, everyone being a bad guy, smut 18+ (minors dni!!!), unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4.1k

a/n: um my first peter fic! it’s based on the song conversation by joni mitchell. listen to it, or don’t, i’m not your mother. i said i was going to stop posting writing, but i have “i must create or i’ll go crazy” disease so... (i’m still not a writer)

main masterlist / ao3

She comes to him for conversation, for comfort, for consultation. But Peter wished she came to him for something else.

He remembers the first time he saw you. How he’d thought his heart had stopped for a second, forgetting how to do its most basic function. How could someone look so effortlessly beautiful? How could a voice sound so sweet while asking such a mundane question?

“Is this seat taken?”.

“N-n-no!” he’d manage to stutter out, his cheeks flushed red and completely taken aback by the fact that you were talking to him. You’d given him a playful smile before seating yourself next to him.

Did he believe in love at first sight? Yes, after seeing you for the first time, Peter started to think he did.

Meeting you in a chemistry class, Peter thought, must be the universe’s take on a bad joke, because… you two had chemistry. Everything just felt so easy when he hung out with you. His smile always wide, cheeks hurting. Conversation flowing freely, or engulfed in a silence, that was always comfortable. The only thing though, even though you two had chemistry, you weren’t any good at it. Actually, you were barely passing.

And that’s how your time began. Sharing sodas after class, in a rundown diner, over chemistry homework. You’d seen how Peter had gotten straight A’s on all his tests, and one day you’d carefully asked if he would be so kind as to help you. Those were the actual words you’d used. If Peter would be so kind. As if he wouldn’t have done anything you’d ask without a second thought. Okay, maybe not anything. He doesn’t think he’d murder someone if you asked… or maybe… if you were in danger and it was the only way–

“Peter!” you laughed, waving your hand in front of his face, “Are you even listening to me?”.

“Huh!?” he hummed, a familiar warmth spreading through his cheeks as your laugh rang through his ears.

“You zoned out a little,” you said, scrunching up your nose. Oh god he loved when you did that– you looked so cute.

“Oh! S-sorry” he stuttered out, still embarrassed that you’d caught him daydreaming, “What were you saying?”.

“Ehm… just forget it” you looked away, waving your hand, “It was just something Harry did again”.

His name coming from your mouth felt like a bucket of ice-cold water over Peter’s head. Harry Osborn, your boyfriend, and Peter’s roommate.

As much as Peter loved Harry, he didn’t treat you well. This was usually how your conversations during your study dates would go, once it was clear that after a few hours of studying, you were done with chemistry for the day.

You’d usually bring up small things that Harry had done that hurt you or annoyed you. And Peter would be tasked with giving you advice, or comfort, or consolation. You always apologized after, for bringing Harry up in conversation, but Peter always brushed it off telling you it was fine. But it wasn’t. It always reminded him about his own failures. How if he hadn’t been such a pussy at Betty’s party, all those months ago, and told you how he felt, this wouldn’t just be a study date, but a real date. The problem was just that Harry had beat him to it that night. In Harry’s defense, he didn’t know about Peter’s feelings about you. No one did.

You’d disappeared at some point in the night, and Peter figured you’d gone home. Turns out you did go home, but not to your own apartment, but to Peter’s and Harry’s instead. A fact Peter didn’t know until the morning after when he’d bumped into you in the kitchen, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of you in nothing but Harry’s shirt.

Peter’s dreams weren’t completely crushed at that moment. He still harbored hope for you. Harry was quite the whore (Harry’s own words by the way, not Peter’s), and this wasn’t the first time Peter ran into one of his hook-ups in the kitchen after a night out. In Peter’s mind this was only a one-night stand. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Not soon after, you started showing up at the penthouse, not to hang out with Peter, but with Harry instead.

Peter tried his best to not be disappointed when you came over. But the tiny spark of hope he had about one day calling you his, soon fizzled out and died. Every time he saw you and Harry kissing, holding hands; he knew nothing would ever happen between the two of you.

Trying to forget you, he started busying himself with classes and patrol, seeing you less and less. He’d run into you sometimes when you were visiting Harry. Only a short “Hello” leaving Peter’s lips as he’d retire to his room before Harry could see how much Peter wanted you.

Back in his room, Peter would convince himself that you and Harry being together was the best thing for you. If you were with Peter, he’d only end up hurting you. You deserve the very best, and Peter knew he would never be good enough. He was a fucking mess most of the time. He was always late to things, never on time, he couldn’t afford to treat you to nice things like Harry did, and his double life could make you a target, which was the last thing he wanted.

Peter kept his distance the best he could, but as time went on it got harder and harder to convince himself that Harry treated you the way Peter thought you deserved. Peter knew Harry wasn’t being honest with you, and it killed him to keep his mouth shut. The bubbling anger simmering under the surface every time he’d see a girl who wasn’t you, slip out of Harry’s bedroom. Then like a curse, a few moments later, his enhanced hearing enabled him to eavesdrop on yours’ and Harry’s conversations on the phone. Harry would always apologize for being too busy to come over and hang out. And with the softest voice, you’d let Harry off the hook every time. Leaving the penthouse, to go on patrol after nights like that, Peter admitted, his punches hit a little harder.

Your relationship tasted especially bitter in Peter’s mouth whenever Harry would throw parties at the penthouse. A hand over your shoulder or around your waist, never leaving your side, showing you off like you were a prized possession and not a human being. Was this the final straw for Peter? Seeing yet another way Harry didn’t treat you as well as he should; that had made him not want to make up an excuse, like he normally would, when you’d ask him if he wanted to study at the diner.

Peter had kept his distance from you for the last six months. Tried to stay in his lane. To turn the other eye. To fold his feelings for you in on itself like a piece of paper so many times he hoped they’d disappear. But one look at you again, sitting across from him at your regular booth at the diner, and his origami-ed feelings had sprung up again like a blooming flower in spring.

“I just really wanted to see him, you know? I’ve been so stressed about this chemistry exam– that I know I’m gonna fail by the way, and work’s been kicking my ass– and I just wanted to hang out with my boyfriend… but he canceled on me three times this week”.

Or maybe the final straw, for Peter, was the way your whole body deflated in front of him. Peter could feel his heart break in real time watching you turn your head away, hiding the wobble of your bottom lip. And the worst part of it all was that Peter knew why Harry had canceled on you. He’d been over at someone else’s place. But Peter knew he couldn’t tell you that.

Carefully he reached out his hand, brushing it over the back of yours as you rested it on the table. “I’m sure Harry’s just been busy! I know he’s got his exams in a few weeks, and he hasn’t been home as much lately” Peter said, trying his best to make you feel better.

You watched your hands for a moment, how Peter brushed his hand over yours trying to sooth you the best he could. Then you turned your hand, wrapping it around his in a gentle hold. The soft touch of your warm hand, making Peter stop breathing for a second.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you’re probably right, Peter”. You tried your best to smile, but Peter could see your sorrow written all over your face, breaking Peter’s heart even more.

“You’re a good friend Peter!” you started, “I’m so sorry for always talking about Harry, but it’s just that you know him so well, so it’s easier to talk about him with you– and you always manage to say the right thing to make me feel better” you looked down at your intertwining hands.

“It’s almost scary how easily you can make me feel better Peter– it’s like you have superpowers or something” you said, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you about my superpowers?” Peter quipped, trying his best to cheer you up even more. A smile spread across your face as you shook your head.

“My powers are actually being very good at chemistry– AND knowing how to make my friend who’s failing her chemistry class feel better”.

A giggle left your lips at Peter’s joke as you let out a sarcastic “haha, very funny”, playing along.

If only you knew though. How he wished that this mess could be fixed with his actual superpowers. How he wished he could just put on the suit and save you from Harry. How he wished he could free you.

Landing safely on the rooftop of Harry’s penthouse, Peter looked around for his backpack he’d hid with his clothes. He’d managed to hide his double life from Harry so far, and he planned on it staying that way, which meant changing in and out of his suit crouched behind a rooftop vent, every day.

He was back earlier than usual, cutting tonight’s patrol short as it had turned out to be a quiet night. He’d stopped a man stealing a lady’s purse, and after he’d helped a man, who he was 90% sure had dementia, find his way back to his apartment. After that he’d just swung around the city for a few hours. At sunset he’d found a good spot at the top of this new skyscraper they were building downtown. His feet dangled off the scaffolding as he watched the sky turn every shade of pink and orange, before the sun dipped below the horizon.

Back home, on the roof, Peter felt the soft touch of the spring night against his naked skin. He quickly changed out of his suit before stuffing it back into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder before he headed towards the rooftop door. With a light bounce in his step, Peter made his way down the stairs, his head filled with thoughts about all the studying he needed to do before his exam next week. Slipping through the front door he’s so distracted by his own thoughts he almost doesn’t hear it. The sounds of muffled moans accompanied by Harry’s bedpost hitting the wall.

But he does hear it, and images of how sad you’d looked earlier at the diner start flickering through Peter’s head. Before any rational thoughts can stop him, he’s fished his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He’s had enough. His fingers work on their own accord, pulling up your contact.

Peter hi, um are you at the penthouse right now?

He knew you weren’t, but he figured this was the best way to bring it up. Taking long strides across the floor, he made his way towards his bedroom door. Why did he suddenly feel like he needed to hide?

He passed through his bedroom door while he slipped his backpack off his shoulder. Not even ten seconds later his phone buzzed in his hands with your reply. He sat down quickly on his bed, one leg bouncing in an anxious rhythm, as he read your reply.

You no? i’m at home why?

Peter i think you should come over there’s a girl with harry in his room

Did this make him a bad person Peter asked himself as he watched the three dotted bubble appear and then disappear. Was this just him acting out of his own selfishness? Letting the devil on his shoulder whisper in his ear and guide his hand? Or did it make him a hero? Saving you from a toxic relationship?

You i’m coming over.

The sound of your footsteps echoed down the streets, mixing with Peter’s calls of your name as he practically jogged behind you trying to catch up to you.

“Peter” you sighed, “just please go back home”.

“No!” he finally caught up to you, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pulling it a little, making you slow down.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now”.

Your face was blank, the only sign of any emotion coming from your restless eyes dancing across his face. He couldn’t decipher what you were thinking. You were angry of course. You were furious only minutes ago when you stormed out the door with both Harry and Peter at your heel.

Harry had spoken his sorry sentences. Telling you it wasn’t what it looked like. Begging for your forgiveness. But he was only kidding himself trying to convince you it wasn’t what it looked like, that he hadn’t cheated on you, when you’d literally caught him with his dick inside another woman.

Harry stayed behind in the lobby, probably thinking it wasn’t worth it to go after you into the spring night, in only his robe. Just as Peter were about to rush after you Harry spoke up,

“If you go after her you’re dead to me!”.

The venomous bite to Harry’s tone stopped Peter dead in his tracks.

“I know you fucking told her” Harry accused, “If you go after her I’m kicking you out– I NEVER want to see you again”.

But standing here, out on the streets of New York at midnight, holding your hand Peter knew he’d made the right decision.

“Ok” you said it so softly Peter didn't think he’d even hear it if his hearing wasn’t enhanced.

“Ok” he repeated.

You pulled your hand away, a knife twisting in Peter’s heart, and started walking. You didn’t say a single word on the way back to your apartment. Peter imagined you were hurt, but you weren’t crying, and Peter didn’t know if that scared him or comforted him.

Safely back inside your apartment you didn’t even acknowledge his presence as you threw your jacket off by the door. Then you walked down the hallway, taking a right at the end, to where he assumed your living room must be. Peter had never actually been in your apartment before.

He followed you down the hallway, after neatly hanging both his and your jacket on your coat rack. He found you on the floor by your couch, your back resting against the front, holding your knees to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as soft sobs escaped you.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like that” Peter apologized, sitting down next to you on your carpet. A feeling like his only purpose in life was to comfort you, overcame him. So, he wrapped a hand around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. You leaned in closer to his body, your hands shifting from hugging yourself, to hugging Peter tightly.

“No, this was exactly how I needed to find out” you sobbed, “I needed to see it with my own eyes, or I wouldn’t have believed it”.

Peter let you cry until there weren't any tears left to cry, cooing you and whispering all the most reassuring words he could muster up past midnight.

“I don’t know why it hurts so bad… I think deep down I always knew he wasn’t being honest with me– he always kept me guessing” you said. No, Peter thought, he kept you down.

Before Peter could say anything, you lifted your head from his chest, a big wet spot on his t-shirt left in your wake. You looked him right in the eye, and Peter could feel a budding warmth of red covering the apples of his cheeks.

“Please Peter” you pleaded, moving your face closer, the closest it’s ever been to his. Your right hand traveled to cup his hot cheeks, pulling him even closer to your face. So close he felt your breath tickle his skin while you spoke,

“You always make me feel better– it’s your superpower, remember? Please make me feel better”.

Closing his eyes, Peter knew he couldn’t deny you, his heart screamed out for you. This was everything he wanted, was it not? With a shuddering breath and a heart beating out of his chest, he closed the space between you, brushing his lips over yours.

Your other hand cupped his other cheek, pulling him even closer to your body, letting out a small whimper as you kissed him back. Peter felt like his head was spinning. He didn’t know where he ended, and you began.

Then it all became a bit of a blur. His hands found your waist as you climbed onto his lap, brushing your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss. Your hand left his cheek to toy with his hair, and Peter just about moaned into your mouth. He needed more of you, and with the way you were grinding down on his growing bulge, he knew you did too.

Warmth flooded his body wherever you touched him, and he didn’t think he could ever get enough of you. When your hand left his hair, he just about sighed with disappointment, until he realized how you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt. Raising his hands, he helped you pull it off him. Absentmindedly, you threw it away, before your eyes fell to his chest, quickly scanning over his muscles before they traveled up to his face, where they looked into his soul. Half a second later you pulled him in for another heated kiss.

His hands fell to your ass, helping you grind down on him. Fuck, he was properly hard now, his cock straining against his jeans. With every brush of your core against his cock you whimpered into his mouth, making Peter almost feel lightheaded. You were so pretty. Your lips tasted like raspberries, and under his hands your skin was softer than velvet.

“Take off your pants please” you pleaded against his skin as you started pressing soft kisses down along his jaw and neck.

His hands raced to unbutton his jeans. You pulled away from his neck, staggering to your feet on wobbly legs, making a whine leaving Peter’s lips. Over him you started pulling on your pants, dragging them down your legs along with your panties in one go. Mesmerized by your silhouette, Peter almost forgot what he was doing. You quickly sat down beside him, fingers coming up to hook around the waistband of Peter’s jeans. Then you started pulling them down to his mid-thigh along with his boxers. Peter almost forgot to breathe as you freed his aching cock.

When you climbed onto his lap, Peter’s brain started working again. His hands fell to your ass, steadying you as you got comfortable on his lap.

“D-did you want me to…” Peter trailed off, not knowing how to say what he wanted to say. Instead, he showed you. His right hand rubber over your ass and hip before his fingers brushed over your clit. You mewled at the contact, your eyes closing before you shook your head.

“No, no I just want you– I need you, Peter”.

Fuck, Peter thought. He’d dreamt of hearing you tell him you wanted him, for months. And now it wasn’t a dream anymore.

“O-okay” he stuttered, reaching a hand between your bodies, grabbing at his shaft in a rough hold. With his other hand he helped guide your hips to hover over his tip, sliding it back and forth over your slit, and lining it up with your opening. He could feel how wet and desperate you were, coating his cock in your arousal.

With a hand resting on his shoulder, you slowly sat down on his cock. First slipping the tip in, before your walls swallowed the rest of him, taking him fully inside. A choked moan fell from Peter’s lips as he savored the feeling of your velvet pulsing walls around him. Rocking your hips back and forth, your puffy clit rubbing up against his pelvis, as your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, gaping around words you couldn’t get out.

“Shit” you panted, “You’re so deep”.

“Yeah” Peter breathed out, head falling back against the couch, “You feel me in your tummy?”.

“Fuck,” you lifted your hips, slowly starting to move, “y-yes, I d-do”.

Looking up at you, as you moved over him, Peter thought you looked like an angel. The way your ceiling light lit up the back of your head, Peter was sure you were wearing a halo.

Your rhythm increased and soon you were bouncing in his lap. Your breathy moans falling from your lips, the wet noises coming from where you were connected, and the way you were starting to clench around him, were making the tension in Peter’s stomach grow. Knitting his eyebrows together, Peter didn’t know how much longer he was going to last.

Scared he’d finish before you, his fingers found your clit, pressing down in tight circles. Under the touch of his fingers you almost jumped, while a shuddering breath left your lips. Then Peter felt himself start to get desperate, meeting your bounces with a thrusting of his hip, pushing his throbbing cock even further inside you.

Every brush of his fingers over your clit, coincided with a thrust of his hips, and soon he felt your wall flutter around him. He could feel how your wetness ran down his shaft and down his balls, and he knew you were as close to the edge of ecstasy as he was. His fingers never let up on your clit, and soon you clenched around him so hard he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Fuck,” Peter spat, “I’m gonna cum”.

“I–Inside” you moaned, “You can come inside– it’s okay”.

Your words pushed him over the edge, making him come hard inside you with a grunt. He didn’t slow down his fingers on your clit, and the feeling of him filling you up and the brush of his fingers, must’ve pushed you over the edge. Half a second later your hips stilled as Peter felt the frantic pulses of your orgasm milking his cock.

The feeling of you riding out your orgasm on his sensitive cock, clenching down on him as your body shook with aftershocks, it was almost too much, too intense for Peter. His breath came out in hard pants, and his body felt hot to the touch.

Peter didn’t know how much time passed as you both came down from your highs. It could have been three seconds or three hours. All Peter knew was that with you, he lost all sense of time. But this moment of bliss must come to an end. Everything is temporary, and someone must be the first to pull away.

On wobbling legs, you slid off his lap, sitting down next to him on the floor. You leaned back, grabbing your panties off the couch. Peter averted his eyes. The act was somehow too intimate to watch, even after what you two had just done. Instead, he busied himself with pulling his pants back over his ass, and tucking himself away, as a silence fell over the both of you. It felt heavy, loaded with questions he didn’t know if he wanted an answer too. After a few minutes a whisper left Peter’s lips, breaking the silence,

“I think I might be homeless”.

You didn’t answer right away, but Peter could hear your breathing change multiple times, like you were going to say something,

“I’m sorry”.

tagging some mutuals (this is so embarrassing): @hollandweather​, @luciwritesstuff​, @userholland​, @t-lostinworlds​, @silkscream​, @sparklingsin​, @logangarfield​, @justapurrcat​, @tomdutch​, @devotion​, @lnmp89​, @mayal0pez​, @melodicheauxxo-writes​,

...

© shellshocklove, 2023

[clarepreed]

Where There's Smoke, Pt. 2

Story Summary and Content - 6,121 words. Mitchell succumbs to a heart attack amidst a house fire. Heart attack, asthma, smoke inhalation, on-site resuscitation, Stryker LUCAS 3. Male and female victims.

--

Part One

Larissa

“Alright,” she said, pushing back her chair. Mark and Samuel both waggled their eyebrows at her, but she shook her head. “You can all keep playing, but that was my last round. I need to get some sleep or l will be useless tomorrow. We’ve been playing this forever.”

Samuel groaned.

“Don’t start in on her, Sam,” Angie said, wagging her finger at him. “The rest of us don’t have Peter Pan Syndrome.”

“I am a grown ass man with a marriage and a Fortune 500 company,” Samuel said, sticking his tongue out at Angie.

“Thanks for mentioning me first, babe,” Mark said, grinning.

“Tomorrow’s gonna come early,” Booker interjected, winking at Larissa.

Larissa sniffed, wondering why the air seemed a lot smokier than it had just moments before. She didn’t think the breeze had changed direction. The smoke smell burned down her throat and into her lungs, making her chest tight.

“Larissa?” Angie asked, sounding uncertain. Booker tipped his head back, raising his eyebrows.

Larissa blinked, and laughed. The laugh turned into a short series of coughs. “Ugh. I need to go to bed. I’m zoning out.”

“Does one of us need to haul you up the stairs?” Samuel asked, winking at her. 

Larissa rolled her eyes. “No, I’ve got it, thanks.”

Mark looked a little more serious. Sometimes, he seemed to worry almost as much as Mitchell. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just going to get ready for bed and try not to wake Mitchell.”

“Alright,” he said. “Sleep well!”

Larissa limped toward the house, clearing her throat and thinking she should probably use her inhaler before she tried to sleep. Mitchell certainly wouldn’t get any rest if he woke up and heard her wheezing.

To Larissa’s surprise, when she entered the house, she felt like she’d walked into the fire pit. It was hot, smelling strongly of smoke. In fact…

Larissa started coughing, her throat and lungs spasming as she drew in the smoky air. She took several steps back toward the door, and flipped on a light.

The first thing she saw was smoke billowing from downstairs, drawing up one staircase and wrapping around and up to the next as though the stairs were a chimney. Even on the middle floor, the air was thick with smoke. The far end of the open floor plan was completely blocked from view.

While she stood there, coughing and staring in shock, she heard a thud from upstairs.

“Mitchell!” she wheezed.

She didn’t think to exit the house and call for help. Instead, she forced herself toward the stairs, hauling herself up. By the time she reached the top, her head spun, and she coughed so hard she thought she might vomit.

Larissa dropped to her hands and knees on the landing, wincing in pain as her sore knee dug into the hardwood floor. Her head ached, and she hadn’t been able to draw a proper breath since she’d come inside.

Worse still was the pace of her heart, racing dangerously in her chest.

Have to check on Mitchell…

She dragged herself down the hall and into their room. It took her thirty seconds to find him. His eyes were open, flicking across her face as she leaned over him. He clutched at his chest, his red eyes going unfocused in the seconds since she’d found him.

Larissa grabbed his shoulders, wheezing, trying to shift his weight.

Mitchell went limp and his eyes emptied of life, staring blankly into the smoke. Larissa pressed her fingers into his neck, searching for a pulse.

Searching.

No, no, no… 

Larissa felt a hard kick to her chest, and tried to suck in a breath. Her airway spasmed, and her mind whirled, her vision blurring.

What…

Mitchell…

Another kick to the chest, and she fell across Mitchell’s prone body, her lips numb.

Can’t breathe… ICD can’t fix… that…

Mark

“One more round?” he asked, looking around the table. “We all have to get up early tomorrow.”

“I’ll be feeling like an old man tomorrow if we stay up much later,” Booker said.

“Maybe we should just call it a night?” Angie asked. “Larissa had the right idea, I think.”

Mark looked over at his husband. Samuel had become distracted, a slight frown on his face. 

“What is it?” Mark asked, reaching over to rub his arm. “You good?”

“It’s… very smoky by the house,” Samuel said. The group turned to look, peering into the dark. 

Mark squinted. “What is—”

Booker gasped, pushing his chair back from the table. “Shit! The house is on fire!”

Booker was right. Mark could see an orange glow from the basement windows, and a heavy cloud of smoke rising around the house.

“I’m calling 9-1-1,” Angie said, jumping to her feet, her phone already to her ear. “Maybe they can still save it—”

“MITCHELL!” Samuel shouted, his chair overturning as he scrambled to his feet. “Fuck��Mitchell and Larissa are in there!”

Then he took off toward the far end of the house. Mark chased after him, his heart sinking as they came around the back.

He hadn’t been able to tell when they were by the fire pit, but as they got closer, he could see black smoke boiling up the side of the house, obscuring the exterior lighting and the stars above.

“The French doors!” he shouted, coughing as he got a face full of smoke. “Sam, we can get into their room that way!”

The small group rounded the end of the house, taking the steps to the deck two at a time. The light on the side of the house flickered, but Mark could see smoke roiling against the inside of the glass doors. 

Samuel jerked on the handle, cursed. Before Mark could react, his husband kicked the center of the doors hard, right where the latch and locking mechanism were installed.

After the fourth kick, the wood splintered and one of the panes cracked, and Samuel jerked the door open. Smoke boiled out and into their faces. Mark pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth, took a deep breath, and ran into the smoke.

His eyes started streaming. He staggered about briefly, unable to spot them in the chaos. A few long seconds passed in terror and silence.

The silence confused him. Why can’t I hear the smoke detectors?

Mark found them on the other side of the bed. The lamplight was dimmed by the smoke, but he spotted them curled up together on the floor. Mitchell lay on his back, eyes open, unmoving. Larissa sprawled across him, limp and unresponsive when Mark shook her shoulder. He reached over and patted Mitchell hard on the cheek, but neither stirred.

Mark scooped Larissa up in his arms and pivoted, his lungs burning, his shoulder and Larissa’s legs clipping Samuel on their way out of the door. Larissa was limp, her head tipped back over his arm. 

Angie met him on the deck, hovering as he coughed and spat. “Do you need help on the steps? 9-1-1 says fire and medical will be here soon!”

“I’ve got her, she—” Larissa’s torso gave a strange little jerk. He glanced down at her, still moving toward the steps. “Larissa?”

She didn’t respond to his voice. Mark cleared his throat and made his way down the steps. He could hear Booker and Samuel behind him, coughing and hacking as they hauled Mitchell out of the burning house.

Mark carried Larissa several feet past the end of the steps and then laid her carefully in the grass, cradling her head. The night was dark, but he could just see her wan face in the moonlight. He leaned over her, his ear close to her lips. His own lungs were burning, eyes weeping.

Samuel and Booker spilled down the stairs, quickly lowering Mitchell to the ground a few feet away from Larissa.

“How are they?” Angie called. “The operator is asking if they’re breathing!”

Mark didn’t feel any puff of breath from Larissa’s lips. He adjusted the angle of her airway, waiting a few more seconds.

“She’s not breathing!” Mark called back. He had a brief moment where he considered starting chest compressions, but he decided to give her breaths first. He pinched Larissa’s nose closed. “I think her ICD fired a couple of minutes ago!”

As Mark sealed his mouth over Larissa’s, he heard Samuel say: “Oh, God! He doesn’t have a pulse! Booker, can you start CPR? I’m going to get the AED!”

Mark forced a breath into Larissa, noting as he did so that there was a fair amount of resistance, her chest slow to rise. He broke the seal and shouted: “Samuel, be careful!”

“—going into the house to get the AED,” Angie said into the phone, sounding agitated. “I know that’s not safe, but neither one of them is breathing, and—”

Mark gave Larissa another breath, then traced the line of her ribcage through her shirt, searching for his landmark. As he forced his hands down between her full breasts, he looked up to see Booker performing compressions on Mitchell.

The muscles in Booker’s arms bulged as he thrust his hands into Mitchell’s sternum, the force tipping Mitchell’s head to the side. Moonlight glinted off his staring eyes. His shoulders and hands twitched, his feet rocking, stomach distending with each forceful chest compression.

“…ten! One, two, three…” The same effects were happening to Larissa’s lifeless form underneath him. He could hear a light wheezing sound from between Larissa’s lips, watched her stomach bulging through her shirt.

“The operator says to just do compressions,” Angie said. “Not to worry about rescue breathing!”

Mark counted quietly, aware of Booker doing the same a few feet away. Larissa and Mitchell remained unresponsive, their skin ashen even in the moonlight.

Mark’s own heart was pounding from exertion and fear. He was afraid for Mitchell and Larissa, possibly dead from smoke inhalation. And he was worried about Samuel, who was apparently planning to run back into the burning house to retrieve the AED.

“…three, four, five…”

“…will be coming back with an AED,” he heard Angie say. “But we only have one… Yes, one of them has an ICD… put the AED on the one who doesn’t?”

Fuck. Mark briefly closed his eyes. He hoped Larissa’s ICD was working, and would help her. He imagined trying to explain that to Mitchell if they got him back and not her.

“…nine, ten! One, two, three…” 

“Shit, I think I just broke his rib, Angie!” Booker called out. “Fuck!”

“It happens!” Mark called out. “Don’t stop! One, two, three…”

He heard Samuel coughing before he saw him, and then Samuel slid in between Mitchell and Larissa, a red case in hand. “Got it!” he croaked.

Booker’s shoulders bobbed relentlessly as Samuel unzipped the case.

The AED powered on automatically. Mark tried to keep his focus on Larissa, but he couldn’t help but watch as Samuel cut Mitchell’s shirt up the center, exposing his chest to the night air. Then he found the kit’s razor and shaved a patch of hair from Mitchell’s right pectoral, just below his clavicle.

“Apply pads!” the device called out.

“I’m going to put you on speaker,” Angie said. “I’m going to spell my brother!”

She laid the phone in the grass, and Mark heard the operator say: “EMS is two minutes out!”

“Let me take over for a couple of minutes,” Angie said, kneeling at Larissa’s other side, hands clasping together.

Mark lifted his hands and leaned back, watching as his sister’s hands fell in the same spot and she rocked her shoulders over her wrists. Then she started pumping the lifeless chest, making Larissa’s breasts wobble beneath her clothing. “One, two, three….”

Mark stood, wanting to be able to monitor them both. Samuel smoothed the second pad on Mitchell’s chest, and then the device called out: “Analyzing heart rhythm! Do not touch patient!”

Booker and Samuel both leaned back from Mitchell, hands raised.

“…three, four—What the hell was that?!” Angie shouted. Mark looked down; his sister was still performing forceful chest compressions on Larissa. “Was that her ICD? I gather it can’t hurt us or I would be on my ass!”

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient! Shock advised. Charging!”

“Did her chest jerk?” Mark asked.

“If the patient with the implanted cardioverter-defibrillator is still unresponsive and not breathing,” the operator’s tinny voice said, “continue compression-only CPR.”

“Shock ready. Do not touch patient. Do not touch patient. Shock administered in three, two, one.” Mark darted his eyes back over to Mitchell, watching as his friend’s torso flinched. “Shock delivered. Continue CPR for two minutes!”

“I’ll go another round,” Booker said, forcing his hands down into Mitchell’s sternum. “You’re still coughing up a lung! Come on, Mitchell! One, two, three…”

Mark suddenly heard a gasp from below him, and a series of weak coughs. Angie leaned back and Mark dropped back to his knees by Larissa, reaching for her as she let out a sputtering wheeze.

“Larissa! Hey, take another breath for us, okay? Open your eyes!” Mark tipped her head back, holding her airway open and watching with a mixture of relief and concern as her throat worked and her mouth gaped.

“Can she breathe?” Angie asked.

Mark watched Larissa’s weakening struggle for a few seconds before he leaned over her, pinched her nose, and gave her a series of five rescue breaths. He watched her chest rise and fall, and then released her nose, pulling back several inches.

Larissa’s chest rose again of her own accord.

She was breathing, though the breaths were shallow and noisy, with a pronounced wheeze on the exhale. Her eyes remained closed. 

Mark patted her cheek. “Come on, Larissa, you’re doing a great job. I need you to open your eyes, though.”

His own eyes drifted a few feet away. Mitchell’s eyes were still open, empty as they gazed toward Mark and Larissa. His chin bobbed as the force of Booker’s compressions rocked his body.

“I hear the sirens!” Angie shouted, scrambling to her feet. “I’m going down to the drive so they can find us!”

“Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient!” Booker and Samuel raised their hands. “Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient!”

“Huh…” Larissa made a small noise and Mark looked down in time to see her reddened eyes open. She gazed up at him blankly, slow-witted and disoriented.

“Shock advised! Charging! Do not touch patient!”

Larissa frowned. She was barely breathing, and he could see fear rising through the confusion in her eyes.

Mark grasped her shoulder. “Help is coming. You’re going to be okay!”

“Shock ready. Do not touch patient. Do not touch patient. Shock administered in three, two, one.” 

Larissa wheezed, and then her head tipped to the side, her face turning toward Mitchell as his torso spasmed.

“Shock delivered. Continue CPR for two minutes.” Samuel, his back to Mark, started compressions. Mitchell was still staring lifeless back at them.

Larissa made a strangled sound, her back bowing, hands tearing at the grass. Mark took her face in his hands, tried to pull her gaze up and away from Mitchell’s dead eyes. He loved them both, but he couldn’t do anything for Mitchell. Mitchell would want him to take care of Larissa.

“Larissa. Look at me. Hey, I need you to focus on breathing…” Mark felt her shudder, saw tears stream from her eyes. “I know. I know. I’m so sorry! Samuel and Booker are helping Mitchell, okay? And the ambulance is almost here—”

Larissa’s chest jerked again, and she was quiet and still for several seconds, an odd look passing over her face. To Mark’s relief, she gulped in another breath. 

The night filled with lights and sirens. Mark willed them to hurry, keenly aware both of his husband pumping Mitchell’s chest and of his sister-in-law on the ground, barely moving air.

Then Angie was back, and they were surrounded by medics and firefighters.

“You’re going to be okay!” Mark told Larissa as a medic shuffled him to the side.

Someone set up a construction light, and medics took over for Booker and Samuel. Samuel found Mark immediately, grasping his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Everything moved faster and faster.

Mark saw a tall paramedic with burly arms take over chest compressions on Mitchell. His compressions were even more forceful than Booker’s had been, forcing Mitchell’s stomach out and popping his shoulders. 

Larissa’s team of medics were undressing and bagging her. He didn’t know if she’d stopped breathing again, or if they were trying to supplement her efforts.

“They’re going to intubate him,” Samuel said, his voice hoarse. The sound of a screaming monitor suddenly filled the air, and Mark heard one of the medics call for epinephrine.

“…losing her airway! I want you to—”

Mark didn’t know where to look. The medic with burly arms was still forcing his hands hard into Mitchell’s sternum. He could see the other medics moving around him, administering medication and sliding a laryngoscope blade down his throat.

On the other side, a crew swarmed around Larissa, watching the monitor, administering meds. Mark saw a medic kneeled by her head, carefully open her airway, and snap open a laryngoscope.

“…losing her pressure, now, need a bolus of—”

“He’s in v-fib, charging to three-sixty!”

“I’m in!”

“She’s bradycardic, uncertain what kind of device she has. Administering atropine —”

“Pause compressions, everyone clear! Administering shock!” Mitchell’s body jerked, and an athletic female paramedic leaned in, taking over compressions. The alarm had changed, and Mark heard someone say: “He’s asystolic. Administering another—”

“Sir?” A woman with a clipboard stepped in front of him. “Next of kin?”

“I’m Mitchell’s brother,” Samuel said. “Larissa is my sister-in-law.”

“We’re going to transport both of them soon.”

“To West Allen General?” Samuel sounded hoarse and wheezy, and he coughed after he spoke.

“Yes, sir. What’s your name?”

“Samuel. That’s my brother and his wife. Are… are they continuing efforts, or—” Samuel clung to Mark’s hands, squeezing them hard.

“Yes, sir. I do have to tell you that they are both very sick—”

“I understand that!” Samuel snapped, and then Mark felt him sway.

“Woah, Sam, sit down!” Mark urged his husband to sit down on the grass, bracing him with his arms. In front of them, the medics lowered a gurney next to Larissa and prepared to move her onto it. Mitchell continued to receive forceful compressions and breaths from the bag.

The woman with the clipboard kneeled in front of them, setting the clipboard in the grass and reaching out to grasp Samuel’s arm, pressing her fingers into the inside of his wrist.

“Take a few slow breaths for me, Samuel,” she said. “I know you’re under a lot of stress.”

Larissa’s crew of medics lifted her together, moving her from the ground to the gurney. Then they raised the gurney, locking it into place.

Samuel took a deep breath and started coughing, prompting the medic to reach for the stethoscope around her neck. She slipped the buds into her ears. 

“I’m just going to take a quick listen.” She moved to his side and slipped the bell underneath Samuel’s shirt, pressing it to his back and instructing him to take a series of deep breaths.

“Still asystolic, administering vasopressin. Kelly, switch with Tina!”

“Gary!” The medic checking out Samuel called out over her shoulder. “Take this one with you. His name is Samuel. Next of kin to our other patients. Wheezing, possible inflammation; he needs O2 and a breathing treatment. Sir, I’m sorry to make you walk, but—”

“Mark…” Samuel started coughing and shook his head. The paramedic was helping him to his feet, and Samuel looked distressed.

“I’ll stay with Mitchell, Sam,” Mark said, reaching over to press his hand to Samuel’s chest. “Take care of yourself. And Larissa.”

“Booker and I will head on to the hospital,” Angie said. “Do you have your keys?”

“I do—Samuel!” The medics were already leading him after Larissa’s gurney, so Mark jogged a few steps closer and gave him a quick kiss. “I love you!”

“Love you…”

And then Mark was alone with his dying friend and the yard full of strangers trying to revive him. Samuel would be okay, but it was strange to know he was headed to the hospital in an ambulance while Mark stayed behind. And he had no idea what was happening with Larissa, now.

Mark crouched on the periphery, elbows on his knees and his hands pressed to his mouth. While he’d been with Samuel, the medics had unpacked a mechanical chest compression device. Mark knew what it was from an older news clip, but he’d never seen one used before.

Oh, Mitchell…

The medics paused compressions long enough to lift Mitchell’s torso off the ground, one of them holding his head upright as another slid a small backboard beneath him. Then they lowered him back to the ground, the backboard pushing his chest an inch higher. An arched piece clipped into the backboard. 

The medic holding an ambu bag fastened it to the end of Mitchell’s endotracheal tube while the burly medic lowered what looked like a plunger to Mitchell’s sternum. Mark heard the whooshing sound of the bag.

The burly medic pushed a button, and the machine kicked on, loud as it slammed the cup into Mitchell’s chest, his sternum sinking in response. 

Nn-hit, nn-hit, nn-hit…

Mark shuddered, feeling like someone had just doused him with ice water. The machine was efficient, and with the monitor screaming an asystole alarm, they evidently didn’t need to pause it. The sound of the device ricocheted off the side of the house.

“Sir?”

Mitchell glanced up, saw the same medic with the clipboard. She reached out with her gloved hand and helped him to his feet, holding onto his arm until she was sure he’d remain upright.

“We’re going to transport him now. I understand that the rest of your family has already left?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The medics lowered the gurney beside Mitchell, and he watched while they clipped him into a harness attached to the CPR device. Two of the medics raised Mitchell’s arms, strapping his wrists to the motor.

Nn-hit, nn-hit, nn-hit…

“Administering one milligram epinephrine, and then let’s get him on the gurney. Good ventilation rate, Kelly…”

“Sir?”

Mark blinked, focusing on the woman. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, sir. I understand. What I wanted to tell you is that I called in and got approval for you to ride in the front of the ambulance.”

Mark felt relieved; he hadn’t been looking forward to driving himself behind the ambulance, left in silence with his thoughts. “Thank you, I… thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir. I’m going to help them load Mitchell on the gurney, and then you can follow me to the ambulance.”

She jogged over to Mitchell, and he watched as the medics lifted him about a foot in the air, device and all, and slid him onto the gurney. The medic named Kelly continued squeezing the bag as they strapped him in, and of course the machine continued its regular thumping compressions into his best friend’s bruised chest.

Mark followed the gurney through the grass and down to the drive. He’d barely noticed the fire engines this entire time, but now he found himself splashing through puddles of water and listening to someone discuss the structural integrity of the house. 

He tuned them out, following the woman to the side of the ambulance. 

“Go ahead and get buckled in,” she said. “They’re loading him in the back but they’ll do a pulse and rhythm check before we start moving, in case he needs another shock. We cannot use the defibrillator while we’re moving.”

“Thank you,” Mark said, unsure what else to say. He climbed into the ambulance, fastening the belt as she closed the door for him.

After about thirty seconds, he fished his phone out of his pocket and texted Angie: Riding in the front of Mitchell’s ambulance. About to leave. Not looking good.

Then he texted Samuel: See you soon, love. Leaving the house now.

Mark did hear the sound of the compression device briefly stop, but before long it had resumed. He heard some radio chatter, but he was too keyed up to try to make out what was being said. The woman with the clipboard opened the driver’s side of the ambulance and climbed in.

“We’ll be there in four minutes,” she said.

The trip was fast and uneventful, and Mark watched as the medic backed them into the ambulance bay. He waited until they came to a complete stop before he unbuckled and hopped out, watching as a team of people in scrubs ran out to meet the paramedics.

To his surprise, they didn’t immediately wheel Mitchell’s gurney out of the back of the ambulance. He heard talking, and then realized the sound of the automated compression device had stopped.

Mark walked forward to the end of the ambulance, far enough that he could look back and see what was going on.

“Clear!” he heard a medic call out, and Mitchell’s body flinched. A second passed, and one of the medics reseated the plunger before pressing a button to resume automated compressions. 

“Administer another round of epinephrine, we have two minutes to get him inside before we shock again!”

They lowered the gurney from the ambulance and started running. Mark got a solid look at his friend as the gurney passed him: Mitchell was mostly naked, the color of sour milk. His abdomen rippled with the force of the mechanical compressions, the device swaying above him as it pounded his bruised sternum. They’d secured Mitchell’s endotracheal tube with a plastic tube holder, the tube itself protruding between his teeth. His eyes were still partially open, glazed over and staring at nothing as one of the medics bagged him.

Then they were gone, leaving Mark behind with the nurse charged with dealing with him.

Larissa, two days later

Larissa drifted reluctantly to the surface. She knew she was sedated; nothing else explained that sleepy calm that held her down despite her distant, logical brain telling her that Hey, something’s wrong…

That same logical thinking informed her that she was in a hospital, on a ventilator.

She wasn’t in any pain, not physically, at least. 

Something’s wrong.

Someone’s missing.

How would I know that? she thought. I have no idea who’s here.

Someone was holding her hand.

Mitchell?

“Your parents are on a plane right now.”

Not Mitchell.

Mark.

Where’s Mitchell? An inexplicable wave of sadness rolled over her.

“She’s crying,” Mark said. “Is she in pain?”

“That’s probably the sedative,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice said.

“Have you decided if she needs surgery?”

Surgery?

“We will have to replace her device. The model that was installed is supposed to provide cardioversion, defibrillation, and pacing. The on-site information and the data from the device itself tells us it worked properly until the pacemaker function was required. The cardiologist determined that it behaved inappropriately during her bradycardic episode. At this point, it’s safer to replace it than make adjustments. The current plan is to use the same model.”

Why is Mark having this conversation?

Where’s Mitchell?

“Larissa?” Mark asked, squeezing her hand. “She’s still crying. When is the surgery?”

Larissa drifted, missing the answer.

Mitchell, days later

“Mitchell.”

His name was like a light switch coming on in the darkness.

“Mitchell, I know you’re in there.”

Accurate, but…

“You aren’t sedated anymore, so wake your ass up.”

Samuel. Mitchell sighed internally. Only Samuel would talk to me like that on my death bed, if that’s what this is.

“Hey, buddy, come on.”

Mitchell’s body was slowly coming back to him. His toes, his hands, one of which was being held in a vice grip. His face, where a nasal cannula fed him oxygen.

Samuel sighed and squeezed his hand.

“I miss you. We all miss you.”

Alright. What actually happened? I should start there.

 “What’s new since last night?” Samuel sounded resigned now, like he was just talking and not expecting a response. “Well. The cafeteria had quiche.”

Hey…

Samuel? Where’s Larissa?

He felt uneasy. 

Why am I here, and why isn’t Larissa?

“It was okay, the quiche.”

Samuel, I don’t give a shit about what you had for breakfast.

His thighs and shoulders woke up. He felt stiff, even without moving, and wondered how long he’d been in the hospital.

“Wish I knew how to read these machines,” Samuel said. “That one looks spiky, but there aren’t any alarms going off and no one is running in here, so I guess it’s okay… You look alright, anyway. And you’re breathing.”

Samuel’s hand clenched hard on Mitchell’s, making the bones shift and sending pain up his arm. Mitchell drew a sharp breath, which hurt almost as much as Samuel’s grip on his hand.

“Mitchell? Mitchell! Can you hear me? Or…” Samuel’s grip on his hand relaxed. “Was I hurting you? I’m sorry, buddy.”

That’s better, but why does my chest hurt?

Did I have a heart attack?

WHERE IS LARISSA?

“Hey, I’m sorry, but if anything will wake you up it’ll be this. About Larissa…”

Mitchell felt his heart rate pick up.

“She’s okay, don’t go having another heart attack, now.”

Samuel!

Wait… Another? Shit. I did have a heart attack.

“That wasn’t funny. Please, wake up and tell me off…”

Samuel, I’m going to wake up and punch you in the nose if you don’t—

“So, Larissa’s having her ICD replaced. I guess that extra part? The pacemaker part? It didn’t work the way it was supposed to, so they’re replacing it now. She’s going to be okay, but I thought you’d want to know.”

Larissa’s in surgery?

“It would be really good if we could tell her you’re awake when she comes off the anesthesia. She’s been sedated most of the time you’ve been out, so I don’t really know what she knows. They wanted to give her lungs a chance to rest after all that smoke. With her asthma, of course. Yours are getting better faster, which is why you’re off the ventilator.”

God damnit, now I’m just confused. What smoke? I thought I had a heart attack. How’d we get smoke in our lungs?

“That shit was no joke. I’m still having coughing fits if I try to take the stairs. Mark told me I’m forbidden from using the stairs for a while…”

Did everyone breathe in smoke? What…

He suddenly had a memory of himself, winded and exhausted, climbing the stairs in the vacation house. The interior smelled strongly of smoke, and he’d been worried about Larissa. And his left jaw had hurt.

Well, that should have been a hint, dumbass.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!

Mitchell squeezed Samuel’s hand. Or tried to. His fingers twitched. It was enough.

“Mitchell? Buddy? Come on, keep it up. Open your eyes.”

Mitchell tried again, and this time his hand squeezed his brother’s fingers hard.

“Mitchell?”

He peeled his eyelids open, squinting as harsh white light stabbed him in the eyes. “Ugh…”

“Mitchell? Oh, Christ, buddy. Oh, hey…”

Mitchell blinked until his brother’s pale, blotchy face swam into focus. “Samuel…” He could barely speak; his voice was faint and cracked with each syllable.

“That’s me,” Samuel said, and then his face crumpled and he covered it with his shaking hand.

“Tell me,” Mitchell whispered.

Mitchell, three days later

“She’s still coming, right?” He tried not to sound anxious; Samuel and Mark both looked like they might pass out if he so much as thought about worrying about something.

“Her dad’s wheeling her down here any minute now,” Mark said. “The doctor was just waiting on you to be released to cardiac step down. Technically, you were sicker, so that’s why she had to come to you.”

“She knows I’m okay?” Mitchell glanced at his heart monitor, unable to hide the uptick in beats. Fortunately, neither Mark nor Samuel thought to look. He’d already asked this question multiple times a day for each day that he hadn’t gotten to see her.

“I don’t think she’s going to believe it until she sees you,” Samuel admitted. “But it’s okay, Mitchell. Don’t worry.”

“Here she comes,” Mark said from the doorway. “I see them now. Mrs. Colton just waved at me from down the hall, though it looks like she’s not coming down here. Mr. Colton’s steering her chair.”

Mitchell pushed himself off the pillow, adjusted his nasal cannula, and reached up to smooth his hair. His IV line was in the way, and he swatted at it in irritation.

“You’re making the bedhead worse, buddy,” Samuel said, reaching over to pat the back of Mitchell’s hair flat. “She won’t care about your hair. It’s cute that you’re primping, though…”

Mitchell flipped him off, knowing Samuel would find that comforting.

He barely got his hand down before Mark stepped out of the way to admit Larissa and her father.

Mitchell relaxed as soon as he laid eyes on her, even though she looked rough enough to concern him.

She looked like she’d lost weight over the past week; her cheeks were gaunt and her skin sallow. She wore a nasal cannula like his own, and her hair was in a long, fuzzy braid over her shoulder. He could see a bandage peeking out from under the neckline of her gown.

She was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and she burst into tears as soon as their eyes met. Mitchell felt his own eyes water in response, and would have climbed out of bed if Samuel hadn’t put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Larissa, honey,” her father said, as he wheeled her over to the bed, her shoulders shaking and her breath coming short. “Take a deep breath.”

“Baby,” Mitchell said, leaning over to clasp her hands as she stretched hers toward him. “Shhh, everything’s okay.”

She drew a shuddering breath, coughed, and whispered: “I love you…”

“I love you, too, Larissa. Fuck, it’s so good to see you!” He felt a broad smile spread across his cheeks.

“I’m s-sorry!” she blurted, her tears renewing.

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” He glanced up at Samuel and Mark, puzzled, then over at Larissa’s father. “What…?”

“I st-stressed you… out… And then I should have gone for… help… inst-stead of t-trying myself… Oh, Mitchell, you d-died…” She shuddered, coughing again and bending over as though in physical pain. Her father gripped her shoulder, making an alarmed sound. “It’s… my… fault!”

“No!” Mitchell exclaimed. He could see her distress, wished he could relieve it. “No, Larissa! It was a fire, baby. The smoke detectors were broken and no one replaced the batteries. If anything, the staff…”

“You…. were so st-stressed!”

“Larissa, honey, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick.” Larissa’s father rubbed her shoulder. “I should have brought your mother in here…”

Mitchell had never seen her like this. All of the times she’d been sick or frightened, and this was the first time she’d come completely undone.

“I need to get down there or get her up here, sir,” Mitchell said, looking her father in the eye.

Mr. Colton nodded. “I’ll help her up there. I can tell your brother wants you to stay in bed and I agree. No offense, but you still look like you took a long walk in the afterlife.”

Samuel snorted, and Mr. Colton ignored him, continuing: “She’s got plenty of line as long as we don’t kink it. You scoot thataway a bit, and Mark, if you’ll help me get her up there…”

In less than five minutes, Larissa laid next to him, trying to calm herself as she cuddled against his side. Mitchell had his arms around her, and he risked giving her a quick kiss before he settled for pressing his lips into her hair.

“I love you,” she whispered. He felt her trembling cease.

“I love you, baby. None of this was your fault. It’s not mine, either. We’ll be okay.” He took a deep breath. “I think I’ve gotten a little codependent, right? That’s not your fault. And not yours to fix. Please, please don’t blame yourself.”

She sighed, relaxing in his arms. His heart rate slowed, and he ran his fingers down her cheek and over her jaw, letting his fingertips rest on her carotid. Her heartbeat tapped reassuringly against his fingers.

“Mitchell?” she whispered. 

“Yes, baby?”

“Let’s not do that again.”

Mitchell laughed, heard the others chuckle. He stroked her cheek, relieved to hear her sounding like herself.

“I agree wholeheartedly.”

The next Larissa and Mitchell Story is Heart-to-Heart.

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

tagged by @howdydowdy <3 thankss!! i also don't watch a tonne of shows but i do watch a lot of films so i'm gonna do a combo of the two lol

8 shows/films to get to know me

borstal boy (2000(?) film) - watching this as a teen Changed me tbh... it also definitely gave me one of my first glimpses of a bisexual character on screen... also danny dyer plays a gay sailor in this i mean??? what more could you want lol (also feel like this film is equal parts depressing and hopeful which is my ideal kinda film lol)

the simpsons - i watched this religiously as a kid (every night at 6pm on channel 4 lol) so much so that my family makes jokes that everything i know i know from the simpsons lol...

would i lie to you? (uk panel show) - i feel like this show really explains a lot of my style of humour (i've literally nearly pissed myself whilst watching this show at times lol), plus i've had a crush on david mitchell for years which like no that isn't relevant to this list but i'm including it anyway... one of my fav clips is 'lee mack's keys' (give it a search on youtube it's hilar lol)

watership down (1970s animated film, i also love the book too btw) - the animation style of the very first part of this film has literally never left me, it's like ingrained onto my brain as the most incredible thing ever! the rest of the film is also amazing, albeit brutal at times which definitely fucked me up as a kid... esp that evil rabbit (wormwort?), pretty sure i was terrified of him lol

hook (1990s film (yes i know i could look up the exact date but i'm not gonna cos i'm lazy)) - this is one of the films that i know so many quotes from & me and my family use them to each other all the time lol (you're doing it peter! RUFIO RUFIO RU FI OHHHHH you're. afraid. you're. going. to. get. sucked. out. stop acting like a child!! i am a child!? RUN HOME JACK RUN HOME JACK wait...HOME RUN JACK HOME RUN JACK don't stop me smee don't stop me stop me smee stop me ... you get the picture lol) robin william's films just have a special place in my heart and this is one of the best imo

gayle (youtube comedy series) - it's embarrassing how much i think about this series & i literally rewatch it at least once every year so... i feel like that says a lot about me... idk WHAT exactly it says but it is.. it's a lot lol

i'm a cyborg but that's ok (2008(??) film) - if you asked me what my favourite park chanwook film is, you'd probs guess i'd pick the handmaiden, but you'd be so so so wrong, because THIS film is an absolute masterpiece that hasn't left me since my sister showed it to me like 10 years ago lol... it's about mental illness and stigma and grief and love and also rain (the singer) yodels in it whilst flying through the air it's great

labyrinth (1986 film (hey i actually remembered the date lol!) - i'm been thinking for ages what final thing to include and realised it had been staring me in the face: labyrinth, literally my favourite film of all time lol! it's equal amounts comedic, creepy, emotional, plus david bowie is there in ALL his glory (some may say too much glory but i'd tell them to shut their goddamn mouths lol)! the songs are amazing, the ballroom scene literally shaped who i am now.. it's a film about adolescence, siblings, it's about friendship and found family, it's about growing up but also keeping your childhood close at heart, should you need it... it's also about david bowie's bul- *gunshot*

that's all folks! i did try and not just include stuff that i'm nostalgic about, but unfortunately nostalgia is my middle name so most of these are things i've connected to for a very long time...

tagging (no pressure to actually do it ofc, the original prompt is 8 shows i think but you can essentially change it to 8 anything in my book lol): @dollopheadsandclotpoles @wovesaxe @micamicster @platypusplayhere @sylvasa @asoftspotforangels @zelvuska

[delicatestm]

MUSE LIST.

(Will be added to as time goes on).

Derek Venturi (Michael Seater)

Stiles Stilinski (Dylan O'Brien)

Lydia Martin (Ellie Bamber)

Billy Loomis (Skeet Ulrich)

Stacey Copeland (Lili Reinhart)

Evan Copeland (Matthew Daddario)

Cadence Mitchell (Hailee Stienfield)

Seth Mitchell (Dylan O'Brien)

Owen Grant (Jack Falahee)

Anna Sawyer (Megan West)

Sadie Hawthorne (Dove Cameron)

Connor Russo (Matthew Gray Gubler)

Bennett Campbell (Crystal Reed)

Dakota Harper (Dylan O'Brien)

Rafael Vigara (Noah Centineo)

Savannah Grace (Renee Rapp)

Noah Davis (Jordan Fisher)

Scarlett Arnolds (Taylor Swift)

Meghan Cooper (Danielle Campbell)

Jeremy Lodge (Peyton Meyer)

Felicty St. James (Selena Gomez)

Landon Royce (Harrison Osterfield)

Quill McKeon (Alberto Rosende)

Lilith Balthory (Devory Jacobs)

Aphrodite Lafont (Leven Rambin)

Simon Lewis (Alberto Rosende)

Reggie Peters (Jeremy Shada)

Audrey Stevens (Katerina Tannenbaum)

Jesse Anderson (Jeremy Strong)

Willow Evans (Sabrina Carpenter)

Finn Langston (Chase Stokes)

Harper Finkle (Jennifer Stone)

Allison Watts (Danielle Rose Russell)

Henry Fox (Nicholas Galitzine - previously found on princehenrytheutterlydaft but because tumblr sucks he is moved here for now)

Siobhan Davis (Charli Wookey)

Katelyn Alvarez (Adria Arjona)

[thevivariumworldbuilding]

Andy Mitchell, an introduction

“Alright, I think we’re ready to go,” the tour guide said to the group, picking up a large green hiking backpack. He was over six-foot and was very muscular, with broad shoulders and bulging biceps and massive legs. On his pale face sat a ginger goatee, so vibrant it looked dyed, and orange strands peaked out from beneath his hat.

He led the group to a clearing only a few minutes into the trail. It had a few logs that the hikers used as benches. “Before we continue, we’ll take a few minutes to apply sunscreen and bug spray, and then go over some safety protocols.”

The group got out their needed supplies, and began to apply. They weren’t really talking, Andy noticed, and he knew this was the right moment.

“Gosh, it’s cramped in here,” an unknown voice grunted. From the tour guide’s backpack, a man’s head emerged. “Ah, that’s better.” The head was long and thin and pale, and it had an aquiline nose over thin lips. Below those lips was a goatee, its colour a base of black with grey streaks blended throughout. This pattern also continued with his hair, at least what was visible through his backwards cap.

Andy smiled. Everyone in the group had heard him, and some made it very clear. Multiple gasps were let out, and one woman even shrieked.

“Hiya, my name’s Andy, or Andrew if you feel fancy, and I’m your real tour guide for today. No offense, Peter.” The first tour guide only shrugged at this. “Anyways, you’re probably wondering how I got in here. Care to help me out, señor?”

Peter unzipped more of the pouch and grabbed Andy by his underarms, or at least, where they should have been. Peter lifted him up with ease, and it was from there that the entire group could see how special he was. Andy —despite his deceptively normal face— had no limbs. In place of his arms, he had stumps extending only as far down as the lowest point of his deltoid. And his legs were just barely longer than his penis, if they could even be called legs. But the most prominent part of his body by far was his gut. He had a great big beer belly, for someone who otherwise looked so lean. Covering his pale gut was a grey tank top, that fit snug on his slightly plump chest, but was practically bursting at the seams coming over his abdomen. The shirt just barely covered his bellybutton, and anything below was exposed for the world to see. Under his stomach, Andy wore bright green shorts that were too long for his little nubs.

“Most people when they see me either pity me or ask the weirdest questions, please don’t be either,” he said, more serious than his previous remarks. “To answer the basics: yes I was born like this, yes I can go to the bathroom, and no I cannot scratch my back. Or anywhere else. And it kinda sucks.”

“Enough about me,” Andy continued after the awkward pause, “let’s go hike!” Peter put Andy back in the backpack and zipped it up so just his head and neck poked out. “I like to say that Peter’s the ‘tour’ and I’m the ‘guide,’ since I’ll just be back here yapping while he shows us the way.” Andy smiled at the group. “Thusforth we shall travel, mighty steed!” He directed at Peter, who only sighed and continued walking down the dirt path.

[dzmoot]

On Namasis, the Moon of Toons, our protagonists were taking a well deserved break from their chaotic adventures following their journey to the Wacky Worlds. There was Zappy of course, sarcastic wisenheimer who was neck deep into his brand new arcade game, Super Mikey Cousins. Gallantly, as the game's protagonist Mikey, he collected his golden rings, squashing several tomato monsters into ketchup, laughing maniacally like he was Dr. Frankenstein or an evil nutcase in a straightjacket. Before he knew it, he beat his previous high score.

I am the greatest gamer in all of Tuundom!

Nearby, Kruonch, the kind and sometimes cantankerous father figure was rolling his eyes as he read the news of an upcoming meteor shower. He decided that today was as good as any other to break out the old cigarette holder and blow smoke puffs around his own head. He then nearly swallowed the entire thing upon reading the score of last night's basketball game.

Blasted! Those darn Fossils blew it against the Copernicus Craters!

Downstairs, Hampire, blood sucking chemist like Grandpa Munster was trying out his new plug in cauldron. He was fixing up a cure for boils for his friend Peter Pimpelpopper who got himself a bad case of pus filled boils after eating a contaminated lunar sushi. His friend Mitchell Manhees went to visit his aunt down south of Inkwell Village and brought him some fresh powdered root of asphodel and he was anxious to brew something with it.

Lastly, there was the feisty little doll Siobhan, simply bored and down in the dumps. She didn't tussle with her dolls in the dollhouse, nor did she finagle with her beloved Ippicus snow globe or draw any pictures of characters to come up with funny names for. She just sat there, festering away in the sea of boredom she made for herself, sighing and longing for something exciting to come along. Lizardton Longleggs was attending a reptile convention and Zilch, his candy corn headed ghost dog was staying with the gang for a few days. He quietly floated over to Siobhan and offered to play fetch with his beloved bone, but Siobhan just turned back around and sighed once again.

Sorry Zilch, but it's just one of those days. If only there was something to do beside sit around this place and stare at the rug.

Then she rose off the floor and patted him on the head.

I wanna go somewhere, somewhere exotic, somewhere I've never been to before.

Zilch whimpered and Siobhan smiled.

Ha, I know I've been to a lot of exotic places in the past but there are so many other places to explore!

Then she ran over to her sketchbook and opened it up, showing Zilch the pictures she drew of Razlaobo.

That's Namasis in another dimension. It was inhabited by weird creatures and had blood instead of water. Then we got eaten by a skull monster and helped a fish and some glob creatures fight fidget spinner monsters!

Zilch gagged. Siobhan turned the page. She then showed Zilch a picture she drew of Zappy and the alternate versions of himself he encountered on Goorak.

When Zappy defeated that Crony guy, he accidentally ripped the manyverse and brought in different Zappies. Then this little worm tried to kill all of them and Zappy found some ring and came looking for us while we were out looking for him!

Zilch began sniffing the pages as Siobhan quickly shut the book on his little black nose. She laughingly apologized.

I'm saying that there are all these other universes and we could explore each and every one of them, but how could we do it.

She then frowned as she opened up her sketchbook again, showing the drawing she did of the Ring of Carconoicus, nearly identical to the way Zappy described it to her.

Too bad that ring turned to poop. We could have used that.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a grand rumbling was heard beneath Siobhan's bedroom floor. Zilch quickly phased through Siobhan until his candy corn head was protruding from her chest. Then the entire room trembled and swerved back and forth like a swing in the park. Siobhan was getting scared but before the fear could be cranked up any higher, the trembling and swerving stopped. Her fear dissolved.

Whew! Must have been a moonquake!

A relieved Siobhan turned around, the smile on her face quickly turning to an open mouth as she saw someone in the room with her besides Zilch. It wasn't Zappy, Kruonch or Hampire. She screamed as Zilch barked but their howls of terror were muted out by the screams of the other individual who flailed his arms around like some sort of tribal dancer.

As Kruonch dashed upstairs, his daughter fainted on her favorite cat shaped rug. Zilch flew under the desk to hide as Kruonch flung the door open. There was nothing there and he looked down at his daughter.

Ah! Poor kitten's exhausted! I must have heard those next door neighbors playing torture chamber again!

As he closed the door, the individual emerged from the other side. He took his large banana fingers and started poking Siobhan in the forehead until she came to. Zilch emerged from under the desk and started tugging on the fellow's pants. After tearing a piece of his pants off, he realized it was edible and devoured it in seconds. Siobhan was still terrified but came to realize that this guy that she feared was made entirely of food!

Your pants are made of roast beef? Your jacket's made of cabbage and your hair is spaghetti? Are you some sort of buffet table reject or something?

The food fellow smiled revealing no teeth in his mouth, strands of melted cheese in their place. Then he began to talk.

You never heard of me, have you, little one?

Siobhan shook her head.

Can't say I have. And I really don't like you just entering my room like that!

The fellow continued, his spaghetti hair flailing in the air like tentacles and his meatball eyes pulsating like possessed ground beef.

The humans of Earth are quite familiar with me, but you Tuuns, I can't believe you have no idea about me! Why, those Earthlings have even written a song in my honor, a song about me and my wondrous ladle!

Siobhan stared at Zilch, his little black eyes glimmering in curiosity.

I still don't understand.

Then the fellow stuck his banana hand out into open air, moving the digits ever so slightly as a metallic rattling was heard from afar outside. The rattling got louder and louder, closer and closer until a large blackhole opened up and from within came a massive soup ladle which the fellow quickly clasped, cradling it in his arms like a newborn for several moments before placing it in it's proper position under his arm. Siobhan's mind was blown. It was as if it shut down and started up again.

Okay, who the heck are you?

The fellow's cheesy mouth opened yet again.

There was a man who lived on the moon and his name was Aiken Drum. I AM AIKEN DRUM!

Siobhan kicked Aiken Drum right in his eggplant foot but it didn't phase him one bit.

Why are you here?

Leaning on his ladle like a walking stick, Aiken started circling around Siobhan and Zilch.

My dear girl, it was you who summoned me from below the moon's surface! Did you or did you not say that you would like to travel the multiverse?

Siobhan wasn't sure if she should answer but Aiken could read her facial expressions like a book. He patted her on the head.

It's alright, deary! Curiosity, did, what do they say on Earth, killed the cat, right? Not only did it kill the cat but it skinned it and wore it's fur as a coat! I should know, I killed a cat made of cabbage once and that's how I got my coat!

Siobhan was getting a little tired of this goon.

Get to your point before I get my daddy up hear to kick your....

Out of thin air, Aiken summoned a bar of soap and shoved it into Siobhan's mouth.

Now, now! I was going to give you my magic ladle, but not if you're gonna have a mouth like a toilet!

Siobhan tried to talk but she nearly gagged with the horrid tasting soap on her tongue. Aiken quickly withdrew it and continued.

For one day, you can have my ladle. It's not just good for playing music you know! You and your friends can travel to as many universes as you want just by pointing it in the air, spoon side up and saying CHUTES AND LADDERS!

He then handed the ladle to Siobhan who examined it very carefully. She was a little excited, but a little skeptical as well.

How do we get back to this dimension?

Aiken snickered and began to eat one of the pepperoni buttons off his shirt.

Point it in the opposite direction and say LADDERS AND CHUTES of course! I know you'll have a blast. Once you've seen all the things I've seen, you'll be a brand new Tuun!

He then approached Siobhan and held out his hand.

You can trust me, deary. We're friends now, right?

Siobhan's skepticism slowly melted away as she stared at her new companion. She truly wished Moto was there to read the guy's heart and see if he was truly sincere, but he didn't seem all that bad. So to be safe, Siobhan didn't shake his hand but instead pulled a large strand of spaghetti hair out of Aiken's head. He yelped for a brief moment but quickly chuckled and brushed it off.

Alright, Mr. Drum, I'll take your word. But if this turns out to be some sort of hoax, I'm coming for you, we're all coming for you and we're bringing garlic bread!

Aiken laughed again.

Alright, little one. You drive a hard bargain. Have a good time and take good care of the ladle. I'll be back for it tomorrow.

And within moments, Aiken Drum was gone, a few drops of tomato sauce left in his wake, leaving Siobhan, Zilch and the ladle alone in the room. Siobhan gazed at her new prize as she excitedly dashed downstairs.

[murdoch-mooseteries]

If this isn't the foreshadowing that PM is talking about I will kill everyone on this fandom and then myself

he literally hold.....

[joaquinwhorres]

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[pendrick-loves-murdoch]

Can you explain to me the whole thing in detail about why we don’t like Peter Mitchell? I’m not disagreeing with you guys, I just don’t know the whole story and I’m confused.

Ahhhh okay here we go. I’m not sure if I’m really the best person to answer this but anyway.

First of all, Peter Mitchell is the showrunner for Murdoch Mysteries. He’s held this position since season 4 and he has also written, produced and directed over 90 episodes of the show.

What this means basically, is that he calls the shots when it comes to the characters and the script. He writes a ton of the plot, he approves other plots and he controls the way the story advances.

Unfortunately he kinda sucks at this. All the shitty plot and problems of the show are his fault. The poor handling of Violet Hart and her plot line, the homophobic adventures of Watts/Jack/Milo, the way that some episodes are just long and boring (*season 14 finale cough cough*), Peter Mitchell has approved, OK’d, and straight up written this.

He’s also openly admitted to purposely changing a plot line if the fans figure out what’s going to happen and also said he just straight up does not know what’s going on sometimes.

All this being said, he’s not the only person in the mm production crew. He’s not the only writer on the show. There’s a lot of other people to blame for this, but he’s pretty much the #1 guy we do blame.

Hope this helps!

[reidmaybankstyles]

Little info about my blog!!

Who I write for!

Fictional characters.

Draco malfoy. ( note: I haven’t seen the movies in forever. And I’m currently trying to read the series so sorry if they suck!!)

Hardin Scott.

Peter Parker.

Criminal minds characters and actors.

Mathew gray gubler.

Spencer Reid.

Musicians/actors

Harry styles.

Shawn Mendes.

Tom Holland.

Harrison osterfield.

Hero fíennes tiffin.

cole sprouse.

Ross lynch.

Nick Hargrove ( actor in charmed remake.)

Outer banks.

Jj.

Topper.

Rafe.

Riverdale.

Archie

Jughead.

Sweet pea

The Vampire diaries

Stefen Salvatore.

Damon Salvatore.

Others.

Prince Edward ( the princess switch.)

Parker Caine ( charmed the remake.)

Peter kavinsky. ( to all the boys I’ve loved before.)

Wolfgang Novogratz.

Descendants.

Harry hook ( Thomas doherty.)

Ben ( Mitchell hope.)

Things I’m not comfortable writing.

Ddlg kink.

Rape.

Anything that doesn’t involve consent it doesn’t matter what it is.

Really big age gaps like 20 years.

Spitting in someone else’s mouth.

Things I am comfortable writing. ( kink wise I guess.)

Dom sub relationship.

Being tied up.

Toys.

Degrading.

kinfe kink.

Handcuffs.

Gun kink.

Public sex.

Bdsm.

Spanking.

Choking.

Hair pulling.

I’ll basically whatever your dirty minds come up with unless told other wise.

Prompts.

Don’t make me take you home and punish you.

I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.

Your not going out In that outfit.

Don’t give me that look.

Would you just shut up and kiss me already?

Like what you see?

Try to stay quite, understnad?

We’re in public you know?

I didn’t know you were so sensitive.

Don’t be rough. There can’t be any marks!

I really don’t care. You still look hot, and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.

Are you sure? Because once I start I might not be able to stop.

Make me.

Stop teasing me so much.

Your in trouble now!

Take off your clothes.

First one to make noise loses.

Mine.

You know, you always look much better when I mark you up.

You look so good with my hand wrapped around your neck.

How do you feel about adding another person to the mix?

You look good all soaking wet.

Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.

If your going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.

I don’t care how good it feel. You better not cum till I tell you.

I bet you think your real cute, letting them out their hands all over you. Let’s see how cute you are when I get you home.

Touch yourself for me.

You want to have sex in a elevator? Challage excepted.

Why are you even wearing underwear? When you know I’ll tear it off anyway.

Since I’ve been good. It’s time I get a taste of you.

You wanna put what? Where?

Your ass or your breasts the choice is up to.

Show me how you play with yourself.

Using your teeth, is the the only way I’m granting you access tonight.

If you can’t sleep......how about we have sex?

Put that thing away!

If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god!

Tell me what you want.

Bite me! “ if you insist”

Could he make you feel as good as I do?

Your n not um, wearing a anything under that. Are you?

Are you trying to turn me on? Or are you just that oblivious?

You taste like fucking candy.

The only way your getting off is on my thigh.

You make a sound and it’s game over.

Just let me finish this level, and I swear I’ll go down on you so you cum like three times.

If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.

I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side and no one would notice.

I haven’t even touched you, and your this wet.

You’re mine! Got it?

I love it when you talk dirty.

I’ll let you do anything, just touch me now!

I told you stay still.

I’ll be quite, I promise.

Oh Just shut up and fuck me!

You feel so good!

I want you inside of me.

I think I lien you better with a gag in your mouth.

Perhaps I need to remind you of your place?

I think I’ve make my intentions clear.

Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.

I’d like to breed you. 

Don’t worry. I’ll take good care for you.

Come on. Take it all on your own like a good little pet.

Think you can handle that much?

Let me show you what happens to beats who don’t follow the rules.

How do you feel about two at once?

I want it to hurt.

Don’t tempt me.

I want your cock in my mouth.

Wanna join?

Don’t forget who you belong to.

Come to bed. I can’t sleep without your hips pressed against me.

The only thing hotter then you orgasming is your smile.

You don’t belong in my bed. You being on a magazine cover.

I can’t believe I found a women who can cook, as good as she fucks.

Where do you think your going? Your body is for my eyes only.

Beg.

I’m going to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.

I thought we agreed to share her.

It’s not my fault you keep turning me on.

Let me be your secret sin.

Looks like you had a bad day. Wanna take it out on me?

You know I get cranky, if I don’t get to eat you out atleast once a day!

You make fucking a religious experience.

Look at you. Stretched out and trembling.

If you want me like this your going to have to beg.

Don’t fucking touch what’s not yours.

You don’t need to cover up the bruises and hickeys. I’d like everyone to know your mine.

How quickly can you come?

I don’t care what you do just fuck me!

I’ll just have to cum inside you then.

Stop dancing like that, or I’m going to cum in my pants

You can’t tease me like that, and expect not to get punished.

We’ve been at it like rappits and your still horny?

Did you just look at me up and down, and bite your lip? Cause I’d you did. We are having sex right now!

Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that stunt you just pulled.

God damn it! Now all I can think about is you licking my cock like it’s that ice cream cone.

If I have to pull over you won’t be able to walk for the next week.

Try not to ruin your manicure when you dig your nails into my back.

I’m going to remember this moment when I’m jerking off.

I bought a few pieces of lingerie. Want me to model them for you?

Keep playing that video game. I want to see if you can keep focus while I suck your cock.

I took a few sexy photos. So you have something to masturbate to while I’m work.

Keep the lights on. I want to see your tits bounce up and down.

Don’t spend to much time on your hair. Cause I’m going to en yanking it soon.

Help me put the condom on. I want to feel your hands on me.

I looked at your naughty photos at work today. I couldn’t get rid of my hard on.

You’re to flexible for your own good.

I bought us a new Mattress. Since we wore out the old one.

If you keep fucking me this good. I’ll marry you.

I want you to be my wife. So I can do naughty things to for the rest of our life’s.

I love how the sexist women I’ve ever met, is my best friend to.

We’re the sexist couple I’ve ever seen.

I just showered but I don’t mind taking another one with you.

These are like smut challenges I guess.

Shower sex.

Striptease.

Threesome.

Phone sex.

Food.

Blindfolded.

Teasing only.

Blow job.

Dirty talk.

Places. ( which you can request also.)

Against a wall.

Dressing room.

The floor.

Kitchen table/counter.

In the shower/tub.

In a chair.

In a car.

In a pool or hot tub.

In the sea or on the beach.

In a closet.

Backstage

Movie theater.

Meadow of flowers.

On a plane.

On a train

Under the stars.

Besides a fire.

Other things I’ll write.

Werewolfxwho ever you choose.

Mafiaxwho ever you choose.

Vampirexwho ever you choose.

[captain-ross-poldark]

Another interesting article from the Irish DM.

THE WOMAN WHO FINALLY TAMED POLDARK

By Maeve Quigley

Heartthrob Aidan Turner has a track record of dating co-stars and it seems like he’s finally found his leading lady as it’s revealed he and Caitlin Fitzgerald have tied the knot

THEY were the pictures that broke the hearts of thousands of fans — the dark-haired actor affectionately smooching his new wife on the romantic streets of Rome, as their wedding rings flashed in the warm Italian dusk. After three years of dating, Aidan Turner tied the knot with fellow thespian Caitlin Fitzgerald in a secret ceremony in the Italian capital last summer, although news of the nuptials has just broken.

The pair met on the set of adventure film The Man Who Killed Hitler And Then The Bigfoot and it seems — despite Turner’s previous protestations that he would never date another actress — they couldn’t help falling for each other.

Pictures taken on August 8 show the newlyweds days after tying the knot as they flashed their gold bands while enjoying a romantic al fresco dinner date at Pierluigi’s restaurant in Rome.

In the newly-released images, the loved-up pair seem unable to keep their hands off each other as they sip their drinks, holding on to one another as they gaze into each other’s eyes.

It is believed Fitzgerald also came to Ireland before the pandemic to meet Turner’s extended family — possibly ahead of their big day. Of course, she’s not the first woman with beauty and talent to be seen on the arm of the dashing Dubliner.

But at 37, the man whose shirtless scything in BBC drama Poldark had women everywhere a-quiver is now officially off the market.

Turner was born in Clondalkin, the son of Eileen, an accountant, and Pat, an electrician. He is the youngest of two boys; his brother works for the Revenue.

The family later moved to Walkinstown where growing up he was quite shy so his mum sent him to ballroom dancing classes as she felt it would help him no matter what career he chose. He became quite the champion and could possibly have been headed for an international career before he got bitten by the acting bug when he attended the Gaiety School of Acting, where he dated classmate India Whisker for a short time.

Even then, Turner’s dashing good looks were getting him noticed off stage.

To supplement his acting career, he got a job as a barman in famous Dublin nightclub Lillie’s Bordello, where he proved to be a big hit with the VIP guests

‘Women would come in just to stare at him,’ said former hostess now wellness guru and television presenter Andrea Hayes, who gave the acting student his position behind the bar. ‘I’m not joking.’

His first big acting break came when he landed the part of receptionist Ruairi MacGowan in RTE’s long-running medical drama The Clinic, taking the seat left vacant by another major success story, Chris O’Dowd, who also played a medical administrator on the show.

Around this time he was dating Charlene McKenna. The thenaspiring acting stars were together from 2007 to 2009 and shared a flat together in London before their relationship ended just weeks after McKenna had said in an interview how happy she was.

McKenna has recently got married in secret herself, to actor Adam Rothenburg, with whom she starred in Ripper Street, although she has said she still has a friendship with Turner.

‘He’s flying and I’m so proud of him,’ she said of Turner in a 2016 interview. ‘We still keep in touch and I knew he would do this well for himself. I always told him he would be a movie star.’

While they lived together, Turner landed his breakthrough role as tortured vampire Mitchell in the BBC Three hit Being Human.

Mitchell was torn between his blood lust and doing the right thing and was keen on leather trousers and coats, allowing Turner to smoulder on screen for the first but certainly not the last time.

He managed to gain a cult following from the role — as well as a new girlfriend in the form of his co-star Lenora Critchlow who played a ghost to Turner’s vampire.

When their relationship ended, Turner also chose to quit his role on the show.

But it was Being Human that got him his role in The Hobbit after director Peter Jackson saw him in the show and was struck by his elfin features. He never made it to the elves though, instead playing a dwarf.

And as his star ascended, he began dating another actress, this time Cork-born Sarah Greene. They had been friends for a few years after meeting on the set of Titus Andronicus, directed by Selina Cartmell at Dublin’s Project Arts Centre; but love didn’t blossom until much later.

‘I played Demetrius, her character wasn’t a named character but we met on that,’ Turner said in a magazine interview. ‘It was all very platonic and we never hooked up or anything, but that’s how we got to know each other. Then years later we just met again and it just sort of took off.’

Turner and Greene became the golden couple of the Irish drama scene, both with careers on the rise. They were together when he landed the role of Ross Poldark in the BBC revival of the Cornish drama that became a huge international success.

The fame that came with the role was difficult for both to handle as Turner is not a fan of being seen as a celebrity while Greene hated people taking photographs of her boyfriend while they went about their daily business.

Though then happy in his relationship with Greene, Turner admitted that he had been heartbroken in the past and it was something he was able to channel into his role as the brooding Ross Poldark, a man torn between two women.

‘I don’t know anyone on this planet who hasn’t had their heart broken,’ he told the Radio Times. ‘It’s happened to me. Love is love it’s the purest and rawest thing we have in life.’

As their careers progressed, the couple spent more time apart as Turner was in New Zealand with The Hobbit while Greene was working on projects like Vikings closer to home. But he insisted the distance wasn’t a problem.

‘You meet someone, you fall in love, then you can only see them over Skype or phone calls or texts and emails. And you have this whole other side to your relationship and it’s... it was fun,’ he said in a 2015 interview. He added: ‘We knew we really wanted to be together. And knew if we could do that, we could tackle a lot more. It was never: God, this is hard, bloody hell, we need to review this. This sucks. We never questioned it; it was great. So we had that from the beginning...’

But as the Poldark mania went into overdrive, so did the rumour mill and there were false reports of an engagement and even a secret wedding between himself and Greene. In actual fact the opposite was the case, with the relationship ending in 2015, five years after it started.

Turner then seemed to swear off dating those in the same business, despite his track record. In a press conference for the fourth series of Poldark, he said dating in acting circles meant you could never get away from work, admitting: ‘If you’re in my business and you find somebody who does exactly what you do and you’re living with them, then you’re in the business all the time.

‘You go home, talk about casting directors, you talk about the press, you talk about the next job you’re doing — it can become quite dull and taxing,’ he added.

So instead he was linked to a mystery law graduate, an advertising executive and then the artist Nettie Wakefield, who he dated for around a year before their hectic schedules drove them apart in what was described as an amicable split.

But obviously when he met the stunning blonde Irish-American, Caitlin Fitzgerald, 38, on a film set three years ago, Turner’s new rules went out the window, so bowled over was he by the beauty and talent of his co-star. By the time the film was premiered, the pair already looked smitten, posing on the red carpet together.

Fitzgerald appeared at a concert with Michael Sheen, with whom she starred in Masters of Sex but was seeing Turner at that time and like him, is an intensely private person.

Despite his fame and the stir his bare-chested scything caused, Turner has never been one to chase the celebrity lifestyle — perhaps because of those nights he spent observing celebrities while working behind the bar in Lillie’s.

‘If I allowed myself to let it change my life, it could,’ he has said in the past of his fame. ‘Where there’s celebrity, it’s easy to slip into that — being followed in nightclubs, or dating famous people or getting adverts. I’m just not interested in that stuff.

‘I want to do good work with good actors and filmmakers, read interesting scripts. I didn’t get into this business for celebrity. I did it for my love of film and stories and theatre.’

So although it has now been widely reported that he and Fitzgerald tied the knot in front of his parents Eileen and Pat, neither of them are likely to confirm their nuptials at any stage in the near future.

In fact, the only kissing Turner is likely to talk about is for his role in the film Leonardo, which explores the life and sexuality of Leonardo Da Vinci. In the film we will see Turner as the renaissance artist in a passionate clinch with another man as it explores Da Vinci’s sexuality and his rumoured affair with his apprentice Gian Giacomo Caprotti, better known by his nickname Salai. It is for his art that Turner intends to keep us all guessing as he’d rather we were interested in his roles than his romances.

‘It’s important to me that people don’t know too much about me because I’m trying to play characters,’ he has said in the past

‘Sometimes you see actors who are really good, but you have trouble separating that actor from the celebrity profile.

‘I don’t want to be one of those guys. It helps that people don’t know a lot about me, I guess.’

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About The Mitchells vs. the Machines

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is up there as one of the best installments of the MCU. Sure, the action and CGI sucks, and the season finale could use a bit more polish, but there is so much more of what it does right. It brings up an engaging discussion through Karli; the bromance between Bucky and Sam is incredible; Zemo's surprisingly a riot, and U.S. Agent is a character whose inner psychology is something I would like to study. Plus, the series really dives deep into the themes of race and the realistic hesitance that comes with making a black man Captain America. It's easily an 8/10 series that is worth an in-depth discussion.

But f**k that s**t, because I'm talking about The Mitchells vs. the Machines instead!

I know it might be questionable that reviewing a movie starring a predominantly white family of idiots saving the world instead of the TV series about the powerful journey of a black man taking the mantle of an American icon...but this movie is fun, alright? And yes, I'm going to spoil it to explain how. So if you still have a Netflix account, I highly suggest you check it out when you have time.

Because, random people on the internet who most likely won't read this, this Ordinary Schmuck who writes stories and reviews and draws comics and cartoons is going to explain why The Mitchells vs. the Machines might just be my favorite film of the year (steep contest, I know).

WHAT I LIKE

The Animation: Let's get this out of the way right here and right now: If a single person ever tells you that this movie has awful animation, or the worst animation they have ever seen, just go ahead and assume that person is an idiot. Because holy hot cheese sticks, does this movie look amazing!

Say what you want about most of Sony Pictures Animation's movies, but you have to admit that they nail making a CGI movie looking like it could be in 2D. And The Mitchells vs. The Machines is the peak of that style. Every character in nearly every frame looks like they could work well if the movie was hand-drawn, and I love it. I am addicted to seeing films that look 2D with a 3D makeover because there has to be ten times the amount of effort to get that look just right, what with modeling each character in unique ways to nail that style wherein a hand-drawn film, you could just, well, draw it. Not to mention that the cell-shading and certain hand-drawn elements also add to the aesthetic.

Plus, there is so much attention to details, such as most of Katie's character model being covered in sharpie, or how you can see a hint of Eric and Deborabot 3000's drawn on faces even though their black screens are showing something else. Seriously, you can listen to any criticism this movie gets, but don't you dare let someone get away with telling you that it looks awful. It doesn't. It's incredible, and I SO wish that I could have seen it all on the big screen.

The Comedy: On top of being incredibly well-animated, this movie is also incredibly funny. Like, really funny. I shouldn't be surprised since it's made by the same people responsible for Clone High and The Lego Movie, but yeah, I found myself laughing, chuckling, and snorting with nearly every joke in the film. Not every joke works, to be fair. But because of the fast-paced humor, the bad jokes are almost immediately followed up with better ones soon after. What's even better is that the writers know when to take a break with the humor and let some surprisingly compelling drama take over. And even then, when there are jokes during the dramatic moments, they add sincerity to the scene rather than take anything away. Looking at you, The Amazing World of Gumball...I mean, I love you, but sheesh, you need to learn to let a solemn moment play out.

Anyways, the comedy is hilarious. And while I won't spoil every joke, I will go over some bits that might have gotten to me the most.

Katie Mitchell: Let's just go ahead and add Katie Mitchell to the list of characters I highly relate to on a personal level (which is getting longer by the minute, hot damn). But jokes aside, I really like Katie. Her love and desire to make movies is something I identify with, and her goal to just go to a place where she feels like she belongs is easy to understand. Trust me, if I found out there was a group of weirdos who like the same things I do and enjoy the things I make, I’d be willing to pack everything I have and go to them as fast as possible too. Plus, I feel like a lot of us can relate to a character who lives in a household where people question if our career goal is something we can make a living with. I remember two years ago when I told my aunt that I wanted to make my own animated series, and her reaction is a little too similar to Rick's when Katie showed him her movie. They mean well, but sometimes it's for the best to have a cheerleader rather than a critic, especially if that person is family.

Now, Katie isn't perfect as her enthusiasm can get a little annoying at times, and her desire to leave can be conceived as a little too harsh as well. Still, she's pretty cool and serves her role as a protagonist pretty well...also, if the movie gets a sequel, let's hope she and Jude become cannon by then. GIVE KATIE A GIRLFRIEND, DAMN IT!

Aaron Mitchell: But as great as Katie is, it's this goober that earns the reward for my favorite character. At times it looks like Aaron is nothing more than a source of comedy, but he handles some dramatic moments really well. Partial credit goes to Michael Rianda for that one. Yeah, having a child actor would have made Aaron sound more like a kid, but no other voice could have fit him better than what Michael offers as he comes across as weird but never obnoxious.

Also, let's give the writer points for making a character who is clearly neurodivergent. Yet also refraining from having him be annoying or useless to the rest of the cast. No one ever really disrespects or belittles Aaron and instead chooses to work with him rather than against him. Especially Katie, who forms a solid sibling bond with Aaron as a fellow weirdo. It's genuinely sweet to see, and I loved every minute that the writers showed that just because someone acts on a different wavelength doesn't mean they shouldn't be treated any less because of it. You get that with Katie, a little bit, but I see it much more with Aaron, for some reason. And I love him every minute, so that’s a win.

(Plus, I may or may not have had a dinosaur phase when I was younger, so go ahead and add him to the list of relatable characters too.)

Rick Mitchell: This is probably a character you will either love or hate, and I can see both sides of that argument. Because on the one hand, I really like Rick Mitchell. His motivation is clear and understandable from the first set of home videos with him and Katie, both near the beginning and the end. Sure, he messes up a lot, but he is still a man who cares deeply about his daughter, as well as his entire family. He gets to the point where he would make great sacrifices for all of them, especially Katie. Plus, it's just pleasant seeing a cartoon dad who isn't a complete idiot or overprotective regarding his daughter's love life.

However, there are times when Rick comes across as an irresponsible d**k. When he does things like smash the family's phones without telling them or giving them screwdrivers for "presents," you're either gonna find that funny or you won't. Personally, I enjoy Rick and his antics, and I have no problem with irresponsible cartoon dads. As long as they don't cross the line toward Modern-Peter Griffin territory, I've got no problem with dads like Rick, who I believe has never even got that bad. Still, some people might think differently, and I can't blame them. Because after getting great cartoon dads like Greg Universe, I can understand if some people won't be interested in characters like Rick Mitchell.

Rick’s and Katie’s relationship: Alongside the top-notch animation and gut-busting comedy, Rick and Katie's relationship is what I consider the movie's most essential asset. These two are the main characters of the film, and as such, they develop through each other. And what's crazy is that they have very conflicting goals. Katie wants to escape and be with her people, where Rich just wants one last chance to have a good memory with Katie before she leaves. To do so, they first have to understand each other. Katie has to learn why Rick is so desperate to spend time with her, and Rick has to realize why Katie is, well, Katie. What I love most about it is that they try. These two don't spend the entire movie arguing and being at each other's throats until a sudden "Oh" moment in the end. No, there are actual moments when they genuinely try to understand one another and fix their relationship. It's nice to watch, and I especially love when it cuts to Linda and Aaron celebrating each time Katie and Rick get closer to each other. When recommending this movie, I'd say come for the animation and comedy, stay for the phenomenal relationship building.

Monchi: There are probably people already comparing Monchi to Mater or the Minions due to being a comic relief with nothing else to add...but gosh dangit, do I love this little gentleman. Maybe it's because I'm a dog person, but I find Monchie to be incredibly adorable, and I will fight anybody who disrespects this king of kings. Probably not physically, 'cause I'm a wuss, but I will verbally. So WATCH IT!

“HeLlO. i Am DoG.”: Have I mentioned that this movie is funny?

Rick’s videotapes of him and Katie: And right there. Rick's motivation for everything is set in stone through a solid case of visual storytelling.

PAL: The writers do almost everything they should have with this character. PAL might not have the most creative evil plan in the world, but to me, a villain can have a generic scheme as long as they're funny. Thankfully, PAL is funny. Not only is the idea of a smartphone ruling the planet hilarious in all the right ways, but Olivia Colman delivers such a great cynical energy that the character needs. The way PAL reacts to people explaining why humans are worth living is just the best, and her flopping around in a fit of rage successfully gets to me.

If I had to nitpick, I'd say that I wish PAL had more of a meaningful resolution to her character. The movie builds up that she makes a big deal about Mark dropping her, so it feels weird that neither of them really get any actual closure with each other. I'll get more into that in the dislikes, but I wish PAL had more of a fitting end than just dying after accidentally getting dropped in a glass of water. Other than that, she's a great comedic villain for a comedic movie.

PAL MAX Robots: These guys are the funniest characters in the movie. Half of it is the bits of visual humor, while the other half comes from the solid line delivery from Beck Bennett. Especially with Bennett's and Fred Armisen's Eric and Deborahbot 3000. These two are definitely the comedic highlights, as nearly every line they say is both hilarious and kind of adorable at times. And just like with Monchi, if you dare disrespect these characters, I will fight you. Because they are funny, and I will not hear otherwise.

PAL demonstrating what it’s like to be a phone: Have I mentioned that this movie is funny?

(Don't disrespect your phones, kids. Otherwise, they'll try to take over the world.)

PAL turning off the Wi-Fi: Again, have I mentioned this movie is funny?

“I love the dog. You love the dog. We all love the dog. But at some point, you’re gonna have to eat the dog.”: It's the sick jokes that get to me the most. Everyone booing Rick afterward is just the cherry on top.

Attack of the Furbies: Have I. Mentioned. That this movie. Is funny?

Seriously, if you haven't lost your s**t during every second of this scene, then you never had to deal with the demonic entity that is a Furby. In a way, I commend you. But you also don't get to appreciate the comedic genius of all of this. So I also weirdly feel bad for you.

The Mitchells deciding how to celebrate: You don't have a real family if you spend more time arguing about how to celebrate after saving the world than you do about how to save the world. I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

The PAL MAX Primes: There's not much to say about them. The PAL MAX primes look and act pretty cool, are brilliantly animated, and raise the stakes while still being funny at times. I love 'em, but I don't have much to analyze with them either.

The origin of the moose: ...I'd make the "I didn't need my heart anyway" joke, but to be honest, it's still shattered after WandaVision.

(For real, though, this is a really effective scene that establishes why Rick makes a big deal with the moose and why he might feel hurt that Katie is willing to disregard it completely)

The Theme of Technology and Social Media: There's a theme about how family is important, and working hard on making things work is worth the effort. But that's a bit too generic for my tastes, so instead, I'm gonna talk about the equally important message this movie has about technology. Because as twisted as she is, PAL makes a great point. The technology we have today helps us in a variety of ways. It's especially useful with sites like YouTube, allowing content creators like Katie to reach out and share their voices. The only issue with technology is how people use it. Take note that the main reason why the Mitchells stand a chance against PAL is by using her own tech against her. Yes, over-relying on all the advancements around us can be dangerous, but if we're smart with how we use them, we can get by just fine. This movie isn't about purging all technology like most robot apocalypse stories are. Instead, it's about using it correctly and not being helpless sheep the second the Wi-Fi gets turned off. Which might just be the most unique thing this movie has going for it story-wise (more on that later).

The Climax: The Mitchells vs. The Machines has everything that I think I climax should have. First off, it utilizes callbacks and jokes that I wouldn't have thought twice on actually coming in handy for how the Mitchells win the day. But showing that Monchi causes the robots to malfunction turns a pretty "eh" joke into a solid case of foreshadowing.

Second, everyone does something. Some characters do more than others, sure, but the fact that every Mitchell, even Monchi, has a hand in beating PAL and her robots is a great sense of writing to me. It shows that you really can't cut anyone from the main cast, as they each add value to how they are essential to the plot. Even Aaron, who arguably does the least in the climax, still manages to be the catalyst to what is easily the best scene in the movie. Speaking of which...

Linda Kicks Ass: By the way, that's the actual name on the soundtrack. I'm not even kidding. Check it.

Anyways, for the most part, Linda seemed like a decent cartoon mom. She's insanely supportive but still has the common sense to keep her foot down, like agreeing with Rick to stay safe in the dino stop the second the apocalypse starts. A pretty fun character, for sure, but nothing too noteworthy...but the second she loses her s**t, Linda Mitchell frickin' SKYROCKETS to the best-cartoon-mom territory! Believe me when I tell you that seeing her slice and dice robots like a middle-aged female Samurai Jack is as awesome as it is hilarious. Does it make sense how she can suddenly do this? No, but at the same time, who gives a s**t about common sense?! Because this moment was epic, and I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching it over and over again.

Rick Learning How to Internet...Again: I consider this the funniest moment in the movie. Trust me, the Furby scene is a close, close, CLOSE, second...but I think this scene was funnier.

The final goodbye: This is what I'm talking about when I say humor adds to the dramatic moments. The Mitchells saying "I love you" in moose is pretty funny, but it's also a sweet moment given that this is absolutely how this family of weirdos would say goodbye to each other. And, yeah, I got a little misty-eyed during this scene. Especially when Rick saw Katie pocketing the moose. That s**t just cuts deep, man.

Alex Hirsch Voices a Character: ...That's it. I look up to Alex Hirsh as everything I want to be as a creator, and the fact that his name is on this movie fills me with joy. He's also a story consultant, so that can also explain why the movie turned out as great as it did...although there are some imperfections.

WHAT I DISLIKE

Katie-vision: What's Katie-vision? Well, throughout the movie, we get to see how Katie views the world as there are these hand-drawn elements that look like effects Katie would add if she was the one who made the movie. At times it can be subtle and cute, like when this little beating heart appears when Katie is talking with Jude and her other friends. It's when the movie is in your face with Katie-vision does it get annoying. Like showing how Katie is lying about being certain she can drive up a vertical ramp or signifying what is the Rick Mitchell Special. Even if you justify that this would be how Katie would edit the movie, it still doesn't change how obnoxious these moments can be. For instance, Monchi is justified to be essential for the plot, but that doesn't mean people won't hate him...I'll still fight them if they do, but that's beside the point.

I can totally accept this being a personal issue, as I'm sure some people enjoy it. As for me, I think Katie-vision works best when used subtly instead of crudely.

The Meme humor: It's something similar here. Because some people like meme humor...but I don't. To me, it just dates your story if you reference memes even once. Now, a show, movie, or book being partially dated is nothing new. We Bare Bears, a series that I love, reference memes, apps, and social media constantly. Yet, the show still has a timeless feel to it as it doesn't rely on those references too much. The Mitchells vs. the Machines doesn't rely on memes as much either. But even then, that doesn't make a difference about how annoying that gibbon monkey joke was. Seriously, what the f**k was that? And how is THAT the joke that gets used twice!?

Underutilizing Mark Bowman: It really bothers me how this guy barely does much. I mean, Mark Bowman is the main reason that anything happens in the movie. Because he mistreated PAL, Mark acts as the catalyst for events to come. So the fact that he could have been written out the second PAL takes control doesn't make sense to me. It's worse since I could see more potential with his character through his relationship with PAL. These two could be anti-Rick and Katie, as Mark and PAL show what happens when people disrespect their family. So separating them halfway through the story, and keeping them as such, is a huge mistake as it results in neither having a proper resolution to their arcs. Like I said, Rick and Katie develop through each other, and the same could have happened with Mark and PAL. It doesn't, making it something that I can't help but feel disappointed about.

The Poseys: These are characters I feel like work better with multiple appearances. Sure, they only have the one joke about being a perfect family, but at the same time, you can make a joke like that work. Look at Yvonne from Shaun of the Dead (Which might just be my favorite movie). That's a bit-character whose only purpose is showing how better she is than Shaun despite being in an eerily similar situation. But she works well as we constantly see how great she's doing in every instance we see her. The same could be done with the Poseys, as using a similar joke for one scene is underutilizing great potential to make an already good movie into a better one.

Plus, if you're gonna shoehorn in a romance between Aaron and Abby Posey, the least you could do is have more than one scene developing that...just saying.

Katie’s and Rick’s “Oh” Moments: I want to make it clear that I actually like these scenes. They're well written and effectively emotional. My problem is that they also happen two seconds apart. There's nothing wrong with having a character realize the error of their ways through a tear-jerking moment. It's a popular tactic for a reason. And given how both Rick and Katie are the protagonists, they both need their own "oh" moment. But you gotta space them out, as it makes things easier to see the emotional manipulation that you're clearly trying to pull on the audience. They work, but putting them back to back is an issue easily solved with at least two minutes of padding, not two seconds.

Katie’s Death Fakeout: This is one of the few instances that a joke doesn't work in the movie, made even more annoying with the fact that I could see the punchline a mile away and kept thinking, "Just get to it already." I'm pretty sure no one bought this, especially when Katie didn't look like she could have gotten killed in any way after throwing PAL. It's poorly handled and proof that even the funniest comedies have a stale joke every now and again.

Nothing New is really being done here: Keep in mind that in terms of style, this movie is incredibly innovative. And here's hoping future animated projects can take notes. But narratively speaking? Yeah, there's nothing really new that this movie is offering.

A story about how technology will be the death of us? Been there.

A story about a group of idiots miraculously saving the world? Done that.

A story about a father forcing their teenager on a road trip so they can spend quality time with each other, thus ruining the teen's chance of hanging out with their girlfriend? Believe it or not, I have seen A Goofy Movie...multiple times...both as a kid and as an adult.

Now, I have no issue with a movie's plot being a bit by-the-books, and in some cases, cliche. If done effectively, and if I still have a good time, I don't think there’s much to complain about. And there isn't with The Mitchells vs. The Machines. The problem lies with that I'll forget this movie along with the dozens of others like it in a couple years. Which might just be the biggest issue any film can have.

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

Overall, I'd give The Mitchells vs. the Machines a well-earned A-. It has nitpicks, sure, but it's still a blast to watch. It might not be innovative or groundbreaking as movies like the last Sony Pictures Animation movie, Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse. However, it is fun. And when the world is burning down around us, it's nice to have a fun movie that can distract us from all of it. So feel free to log in to Netflix the next time you're in the mood for a film that is great for the whole family. You won’t be disapointed

(And I will talk about The Falcon and the Winter Soldier pretty soon. I just needed to get this out of my system first.)

[invisibleicewands]

Michael Sheen (old) interview

He’s played the prime minister and the messiah – now Michael Sheen is plumbing the psyche of the original man in black. Caroline McGinn asks him about the dark side.                                                                                  

It’s been a big year for Michael Sheen. A lifechanger, in fact. The   42-year-old actor is widely admired for his uncanny ability to play   real-life characters: a Bambi-ish Tony Blair in a trilogy of films that   included ‘The Queen’; David Frost for Peter Morgan’s play-turned-movie   ‘Frost/Nixon’; and most recently, a demon-ridden Brian Clough in ‘The   Damned United’. But no previous role has come close to the Christ-like   leader Sheen played in ‘The Passion’ in his South Wales home town this   Easter: an epic 72-hour piece of community theatre which ended in Sheen being crucified on a local roundabout.

‘The Passion’, a local take on the Gospel commissioned by the storming new National Theatre of Wales, was more than just a play. It was a collective story that Sheen probably couldn’t have told anywhere but in Port Talbot, a town divided by the roaring M4 and dominated by a giant steelworks that was once the largest employer in Wales; a place where churchgoing and storytelling are still alive. It’s also his parents’ home. Sheen was so moved that talking about it makes him choke up. ‘I did this seven-mile procession with the cross,’ he recalls, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘It was boiling hot. There were 12,000-15,000 people. And I was seeing these bare-chested tattooed blokes standing outside pubs with pints, with kids, with tears in their eyes going, “Go on, Michael, you can do it!” It’s quite rare to be in the middle of an experience knowing it is probably the most meaningful one I will ever have in my life. Something in me relaxed after that, I think. I could say, “If I died tomorrow, I did that.”’

Over a glass of red wine in the bar at the Young Vic, where he is about to play Hamlet, Sheen does seem completely relaxed: eager, open and very Welsh, with his squiggle of dark brown hair and his neat, expressive hands. He has a shapeshifter’s face: mobile, not memorable, too blurry and mercurial for a romantic lead. And it is a pleasure to hear his real voice: un-damned by Clough’s nasal, northern scorn or Blair’s prim inflections, it is a gloriously unstoppable lilting flow which seems, to my English ears, to come straight from the Valleys.

Sheen currently lives in LA to be close to his 12-year-old daughter with ex-partner Kate Beckinsale. He is an unlikely denizen of La La Land, with his bike helmet, his puppyish friendliness and his lack of pretensions. His spectacular return to his roots at Easter has, he says, redefined who he thinks he is, and what he wants to do with his work: something which he expresses in probably the longest sentence I’ve ever heard anyone deliver. ‘“The Passion” did for me what I hoped it could do for everyone in the town, potentially, which is to experience your life and your home in a different way, because I think there is a tendency – and I have it, and I notice other people have it too, probably everyone has it but certainly people who come from quite challenged areas – there’s a sense that your life is of no interest, that your story is mundane and there is no, for want of a better word, numinosity, no transcendence, and so to be able to tell a story about the biggest things there can probably be, a version of the “greatest story ever told” in the town that is seen to be the least likely town for that to happen in, then the people in that town, every time they go around that roundabout, which is many times, can go, “Not only is that where I get fish and chips, it’s also where the crucifixion happened,” and the everyday becomes transcendent – to something that is miraculous.’

Thanks to Sheen’s great-grandfather, street preaching runs in the family. But the starry-eyed idealism behind doing a passion play in Port Talbot, to reach thousands of people who would never set foot in a theatre, might easily have backfired. It was an unglamorous risk for a local bloke-turned-Hollywood big shot to take. You can’t imagine the area’s other famous filmmaking sons, ultra-cool customer Antony Hopkins or hard-living Richard Burton, pulling it off – though Burton did enjoy making a splash on the local beach with Liz Taylor and his private helicopter. ‘The Passion’ was supposed to shine a light on the miracle workers who do what Sheen calls the ‘unseemly’ work of care: for the old, the sick, the battered wives and the young offenders. For it to work, its makers had to gain the trust of the town.

‘After the Last Supper, when the Manics played, I was put on trial on the back of a truck and the crowd took over,’ he says. ‘It was at that moment I realised they understood it was their story. It was frightening and exhilarating. We didn’t know what was going to happen. Along the procession route people put photos of things they’d lost. Then, on the cross, I did a litany. Of things I remembered, or that I’d gathered from people, of people and places that don’t exist any more.’ It was Sheen’s epic personal connection to South Wales, where his dad once worked as a Jack Nicholson impersonator, and where his great-grandfather got rich when God told him to buy a tin mine. Sheen’s codirector Bill Mitchell and writer Owen Sheers spent a year getting stories from locals, and fed them into the piece. ‘I was just a participant: we all were,’ he says. ‘My mum and dad said a woman came to their house and told them I’d called her mother’s name when I was on the cross, and it had changed something for her. The need that drama first came from was community, witness, celebration and catharsis. We were trying to find a way for that to happen on a large scale.’

The Port Talbot ‘Passion’ has already gone down in theatre history. So where do you go after scaling the twin messianic peaks of Blair and Christ? Down into the doubt-ridden depths of Hamlet, naturally, the biggest role that a young (or young-ish in this case) actor can play. Judging by Sheen’s wordflow, those famous soliloquies won’t be a problem. After all, the actor made his name on stage: he won his first professional role at the Globe opposite Vanessa Redgrave in 1991 before he had graduated from Rada.

His CV is full of monster roles: Caligula, Peer Gynt, Amadeus (playing  Mozart was his break into Broadway in 1999). Clough, and even Blair and  Frost, creep into that list – though he’s obviously bored of talking  about the factional film roles that made him famous: ‘I’ve done  relatively few characters based on real people,’ he protests, just a  little bit too much. ‘I’ve been working on stage now for more years than  I care to mention.’

‘Project Hamlet’ has been on the cards for a while, but Sheen was waiting ‘for the right director and the right theatre’. Unlike recent celebrity Hamlets David Tennant and Jude Law, he didn’t want to do conventional West End Shakespeare, hence the Young Vic, with its younger, mixed audience and its imaginative approach, which includes – mysteriously – reconfiguring the playing space so that ‘Hamlet’ audiences must arrive 30 minutes early to take a ‘different route’ in. Sheen’s director of choice is Ian Rickson, the ex-Royal Court boss who has helped actors achieve career-defining roles (Kristin Scott-Thomas in ‘The Seagull’; Mark Rylance in ‘Jerusalem’). Hamlet tends to demand something very personal from actors: one reason why so many of them crack up over it, though Sheen seems remarkably unfurrowed by the prospect. ‘It is,’ he says, ‘good not to have to worry about people saying, “He doesn’t sound like Hamlet.” It’s me: I’m not doing a voice or playing a character, so to speak. It’ll sound like me and look like me, a bit of Welsh mixed with a bit of posh.’

Sheen sees ‘Hamlet’ as ‘like a portal. Or a living organism in some way. Other Shakespeare plays don’t have that quality of seeming to change. “Hamlet” works on you and sucks up everything you have. It’s a bit like looking into the abyss. What “Hamlet” makes everyone confront are all the things that are most frightening: irrationality, betrayal, madness and abandonment. It is very, very dark, and it dances along through that darkness.’

Sheen’s prince promises to be darker than most. Not just a mad Hamlet, but maybe even a bad Hamlet. ‘Me and Ian have taken a completely different approach,’ he explains. ‘The most interesting way to approach it is not to trust anything that Hamlet says, to assume that he’s an unreliable narrator. And once you do that, you realise how many assumptions there are about the play.’ Sheen cites Philip K Dick, David Lynch and Edgar Allan Poe as influences. The production will be set in a world ‘that feels as if we’re in some sort of institution’. Madness will be the keynote: ‘I discovered when working on it,’ says Sheen, ‘that it’s the first time anyone used the phrase “the mind’s eye”.’ Horatio says, “A mote it is, to trouble the mind’s eye.” Meaning a piece of grit. It sums up what I think the play is. It’s a bit of grit in the mind’s eye of the Western world. We’ve tried to expel it, by smoothing out its inconsistencies and by stopping it from being irritating. That’s a way to neutralise it and make it safer. But actually it’s the most dangerous of plays.’

Rickson and Sheen have found unorthodox inspiration in anti-psychiatrist RD Laing and G Wilson Knight, the twentieth century scholar who wrote an off-beam but brilliant essay on Hamlet, the ‘ambassador of death’ in the land of the living. ‘Laing said that if you take mad people on their own terms then maybe they’re just talking in a sort of heightened language about their lived experience,’ says Sheen. ‘And our take on “Hamlet” definitely questions the boundaries of what you would consider madness to be.’

So where do you go as an actor, after the heights of being crucified, and the depths of Hamlet’s psyche? ‘The answer to that is that I just don’t know,’ says Sheen. There are a couple of projects: Sheen says he was ‘roped in’ on a set visit to a new untitled film by cinema’s man of mystery, Terrence Malick, starring Sheen’s girlfriend and ‘Midnight in Paris’ co-star Rachel McAdams. And there’s also Wales-set thriller ‘Resistance’, out this month. But he has his heart set on directing a film about Edgar Allan Poe. ‘He was an extraordinary character. Very dark.’ The legacy of this life-changing year is a sharper, stronger passion for a live Welsh tradition: storytelling. ‘I just don’t know where you go after “The Passion” and “Hamlet”,’ says Sheen ‘But I do know that I want to tell stories that are powerful, that can reach people and equate to Greek theatre now. People still do need that. They respond to it. But you have to take risks to find them.’

(x)

[transienturl]

Q: How much do I know about sports off the top of my head? I’m bored, so let’s find out.

NFL:

NFC West (one of the strongest divisions ever):

Seattle Seahawks. Key (and less-key) players: Russell Wilson (QB), DK Metcalf (WR), Tyler Lockett (WR), Freddie Swain (WR), Greg Olsen (TE), Colby Parkinson (TE), Damien Lewis (G), Duane Brown (T), Ethan Pocic (C, I think?), Chris Carson (RB), Rashaad Penny (RB), Travis Homer (RB), Michael Dickson (P), help what’s the kicker’s name, Jamal Adams (S), Quandre Diggs (S), Bobby Wagner (LB), KJ Wright (LB), Jordyn Brooks (LB), Poona Ford (DI), Jarran Reed (defensive... line somewhere), Shaquill Griffon (CB), Quinton Jefferson (CB), Tre Flowers (CB), Benson Mayowa (DE), Carlos Dunlap (DE), Alton Robinson (DE), Shaquem Griffon (DE), god I can’t remember the new slot corner but he’s pretty good I think. Coach: Pete Carroll. OC: Brian Schottenheimer. DC: Ken Norton, Jr. GM: John Schneider. Owner: Jody Allen. Notes: Every game is close. Used to always run, but this year always throws. Quarterback is basically magic. Defense is severely lacking. My home team, obviously.

San Francisco 49ers. Key players: Jimmy Garoppolo (QB), George Kittle (TE), many fast running backs, Raheem Mostert is one of them, Trent Williams (T), Richard Sherman (CB), Nick Bosa (DE). Coach: Kyle Shanahan. Notes: Running game scheme is a work of staggering genius. Best player is a tight end for some reason. Went to the Super Bowl last year.

Arizona Cardinals. Key players: Kyler Murray (QB), Larry Fitzgerald (WR), DeAndre Hopkins (WR), Christian Kirk (WR), Budda Baker (S), Patrick Peterson (CB). Coach: Kliff Kingsbury. Notes: Runs many wide receivers, in scheme Kingsbury got from coaching college. Used to be bad, but getting better each year. Kyler is very small.

Los Angeles Rams. Key players: Jared Goff (QB), Cooper Kupp (WR), Andrew Whitworth (T), Darrell Henderson (RB), Aaron Donald (DI), Johnny Hekker (P). Coach: Sean McVay. DC: Used to be Wade Phillips, but not anymore. Notes: Runs a lot of plays from the same formation. Coach is very smart. Made the Super Bowl two years ago. Best player is a defensive tackle, for some reason.

NFC East (the worst division in NFL history):

New York Giants. Key players: Daniel Jones (QB), Saquon Barkley (RB). Coach: Joe, uh... Douglas. GM: Dave Gettleman. Notes: Spent a huge amount of draft capital on players the numbers said weren’t worth it. Seems accurate.

Philadelphia Eagles. Key players: Carson Wentz (QB), Jalen Hurts (backup QB), literally everyone else is injured. Oh, Jason Peters (T). Coach: Doug Peterson. GM: Howie Roseman. Notes: Everyone is injured. Everyone. Went to the Super Bowl 3 years ago and won with their backup QB.

Dallas Cowboys. Key players: Dak Prescott (QB, injured), Andy Dalton (backup QB, injured), No one of note (third-string QB), Amari Cooper (WR), CeeDee Lamb (WR), Ezekiel Elliott (RB), Leighton Vander Esch (LB), Greg Zuerlein (K), I could probably name more if I tried hard enough. Coach: Mike McCarthy. GM: Jerry Jones. Owner: Also Jerry Jones. Notes: Every year they have good players and lose anyway. Paid their running back instead of their quarterback. Also, now they have no healthy quarterback.

Washington [used to have a racist name]. Key players: Dwayne Haskins (benched QB), Alex Smith (QB... whose leg does not work), Kyle Allen (QB), Terry McLaurin (WR), Chase Young (DE), Montez Sweat (DE). Coach: Ron Rivera. Owner: Dan Snyder, who is the worst human being in the NFL, and that is saying a lot. Notes: No one cares about the football, Dan Snyder should be in jail. Also, Ron Rivera has cancer and Alex Smith’s leg injury almost killed him, so those guys deserve better.

NFC North:

Detroit Lions. Key Players: Matthew Stafford (QB), um, I should remember some more. Jeff Okudah (CB). Coach: Matt Patricia. Notes: Stafford deserves better. Patricia keeps signing ex-Patriots players, and it doesn’t work, presumably because the good ones are current-Patriots-players.

Minnesota Vikings. Key players: Kirk Cousins (QB), Adam Thielen (WR), Justin Jefferson (WR), Dalvin Cook (RB), many good defensive players whose names I don’t know. Coach: Mike Zimmer. Notes: Historically a good defense and just missing a competent QB. Paid a lot for an average QB; defense sucks now for some reason. Also, runs a lot.

Chicago Bears. Key Players: Mitchell Trubisky (QB), Nick Foles (QB), Allen Robinson (WR), Khalil Mack (DE). Coach: Matt Nagy. Notes: Has been wasting great defensive performances with poor to average quarterback play since World War II.

Green Bay Packers. Key Players: Aaron Rodgers (QB), Davante Adams (WR), Allan Lazard (WR), Aaron Jones (RB), Jamaal Williams (RB), Robert Tonyan (TE), David Bakhtiari (T), Za’Darius Smith (DE), Preston Smith (DE). Coach: Matt LaFleur. GM: Brian Gutekunst. Owner: “The fans.” Notes: Has started a hall-of-famer at quarterback every season since before you were born. Winning big but the analytics say they’re getting a bit lucky lately.

NFC South:

Atlanta Falcons. Key players: Matt Ryan (QB), Julio Jones (WR), I forgot the new WR’s name but he looks legit, Todd Gurley (RB). Coach that was recently fired: Dan Quinn. Notes: Have become known for inexplicably blowing enormous leads late in games. It’s quite funny, at this point.

New Orleans Saints. Key players: Drew Brees (QB), Michael Thomas (WR), Alvin Kamara (RB), Taysom Hill (listed as backup QB but just kinda does weird shit on offense), Jameis Winston (backup QB), Cam Jordan (DE), I should remember the cornerback’s name. Coach: Sean Payton. Notes: Known for having tons of talent every year, salary cap be damned, and then losing in heartbreaking fashion in the playoffs. Brees is getting old.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Key players: Tom Brady (QB), Mike Evans (WR), Chris Godwin (WR), this one WR who can go eat shit, Rob Gronkowski (TE), Antoine Winfield Jr (S), Vita Vea (DI). Coach: Bruce Arians. Notes: Signed Tom Brady. It’s working pretty well. Defense is top-tier. The most balanced team.

god, who is the other NFC south team, uh...  hold on, lemme get back to you.

AFC North:

Baltimore Ravens

Pittsburgh Steelers

Cleveland Browns

um... Cincinnati Bengals? Maybe?

AFC East:

New York Jets

New England Patriots

Miami Dolphins

Buffalo Bills

AFC South:

Houston Texans

Jacksonville Jaguars

Tennessee Titans

uhh... Indianapolis Colts.

AFC West:

Denver Broncos

Kansas City (I think this name should be changed too, honestly)

Las Vegas Raiders

I guess this must be the Los Angeles Chargers?

Oh, so the other NFC South team is the Carolina Panthers. Of course. Key players: Teddy Bridgewater (QB), Christian McCaffrey (RB and also arguably their best receiver), Yetur Gross-Matos (DE). Coach: Matt Rhule. Notes: Rebuilding their team this year, but quietly doing pretty well, considering.

Alright, I’m gonna stop there. Didn’t even get to the other half of the NFL, let alone started to try and list NBA/MLB/NHL teams, which would have gone extremely poorly. Story for another day.

Also, uh, yeah, this is a normal amount to know about football as someone who doesn’t watch football, oooobviously...

[doof-doofblog]

"I'm Sorry!"

Tuesday 9th June 2020

Good evening everyone! Hope you've had a good day! It's just hit me that after tonight's episode, we'll only have two episodes to view until the soap goes off air. I'm feeling a touch of sadness but I'm really hoping it won't be too long until the soap will be back on our screens. We should enjoy the last few episodes while we can! I just hope that come the last episode, it won't end on such big cliff hanger - i'll be so frustrated that I'll have to wait for such a lengthy period of time to find out the outcome! I'm sure you guys feel the same way? Let's just hope we're not waiting for months on end!

So tonight's episode was quite full packed wasn't it? I'm going to briefly start with Rainie and Max, it's really nice to see Rainie in a completely different light. I do fear that she will always been known as the terrible drug addict, and I guess there is always a possibility she could go back to her bad ways, but it's so nice to see her living a happy life. She's not interested in taking Max for his money. As she said, she has a good job and stable home as well as someone who loves her for who she is, plus she's clean, she's living her best life right now! Why would she need Max's money? She will find the money eventually for her wedding to Stuart and hopefully they'll have a happy life together. I thought it was really sweet when she said to Max that she actually wanted him to be happy to, I think that's all everyone wants. Max has had his fair share of women on the square but I believe only 2 of those women have made him genuinely happy - Tanya and Stacey! I do hope in time Max will meet someone and he'll be able to be happy, properly, once again.

So, does this mean Dotty and Peter are going to make a go of things? Even regarding that Dotty knows about Ian's secret. It's obvious that Ian is not going to approve, but in all honesty, what can he do? He can't threaten Dotty to leave his son alone, she will only threaten to reveal his secret. Ian is just going to have to suck it up and deal with it and hope to God that Dotty doesn't spill the beans. I know I've mentioned this already, but I can't help thinking about Bobby - even though he's not been seen in recent episodes, he was the one who started off having feelings for Dotty in the first place, how is he going to feel now knowing his brother has gone off with her? I didn't really know what to make of the scene where Dotty was trying to impress Peter by going for the jog ... I guess she wasn't trying to impress him, maybe just get his attention?! Again, like their flirting, I found it a bit cringe-worthy. But you know, each to their own? Do any of you guys ship Dotty and Peter? Or would you prefer to see them with other people? Perhaps you would've preferred Dotty to be with Vinny? They did start up a good, close friendship ... let me know what you guys think! Only thing now is, I have a feeling that Ian's secret isn't going to be kept secret for much longer?

Speaking of ships - does anyone else ship Billy and Karen? Poor Billy! Okay, the flour bomb was funny, but I did kinda feel that somehow, maybe he doesn't belong with the Taylor family. Mitch has done everything in his power to make him feel uncomfortable - even saying that he and Karen won't last for long and that Karen always goes running back to him. Mitch is clearly jealous! But I do feel that Billy does deserve happiness - however, what is going to happen when Honey returns? I'm assuming she will at some point, I don't think we've seen the last of her. But what is going to happen if Honey comes back and finds out that Billy has suddenly moved in with Karen? Isn't that going to break her heart? I mean, okay, Billy did cheat on her and she attempted to move on with Adam, but look how that turned out for the poor woman. She lost her self-esteem and confidence which caused her to relapse on her eating disorder, she then decided she had to leave the Square until she felt herself again, leaving poor Billy on his own. It's nice to see Billy happy with someone but I don't know whether he'll be able to commit to Karen, or whether he'll be able to feel he belongs with the Taylor family, especially with Mitch always at the sidelines, watching in on his relationship with Karen. What do you guys think? Do you think Billy and Honey will be meant to be? Or do you think he can gel well with Karen and the Taylor's and be a part of their family?! Also - yes! I am going to mention that EastEnders did make a comment about the size of Billy's manhood!!!!!! Sorry, but we don't want to know that, thank you!!!

Swiftly moving on ... I do wish that Phil and Sharon would come to some form of understanding with each other. I can understand both sides of spectrum ... Sharon made a terrible mistake of firstly, cheating on Phil, and then secondly giving up her own baby, but now she's trying to do the right thing and bring up her son with the man she loves. However, I can understand Phil's perspective aswell, he was heartbroken when he found out that Kayden wasn't his, considering he had adopted Sharon's elder son and became a father to him, to then lose him in awful circumstances, I guess he can't help but blame Sharon for Dennis's death. I do kinda think Phil is right, if she hadn't have slept with Keanu and got pregnant, none of this would've happened and Dennis would still be around now. It's clear that they do deeply still love each other, but Phil can't find it in himself to bring up another man's baby. When Ian came to collect Sharon's things, I love the way Phil put him in his place, its been obvious that Ian has been swooning over Sharon - Phil isn't stupid, he can see what he's trying to do! Hopefully Sharon will come to realise that also and will find out the truth about Dennis's death. I loved the scene between Linda and Phil, I think the words that Linda rang truth - you can't break a bond between a mother and their child, Phil and Sharon should be able to work things through because of their love for each other, if they want to be together, they should be able to be strong and make it work. However, I was surprised as Phil's revelation! So he is going to be moving into the Vic?! Is that going to be such a good idea, considering his past with the building? I mean, it was once his home also, but Sharon also lived there, could this mean they could end up fighting for the property? Or is Sharon going to remain living with Ian or will she live in the Mitchell household while Phil moves into the Vic?! I'm really eager to see what happens with that one, but I do feel we're going to have to wait a while unfortunately.

Uh-Oh! I have a bad feeling that things could be going from bad to worse for Chantelle. After asking Gray if she could use his car to do an errand for Kheerat, Gray was already annoyed that she was doing Kheerat favours, why is she still doing more? He made it perfectly clear that he didn't want her running around after him. I kinda panicked when Suki asked - wait no - told Chantelle to do those favours for her, it was just going to put her in an even worse situation with Gray. Even though I did think to myself after Chantelle missed her phone call from Gray whilst in the car, after Suki left, why didn't she just ring him back and explain? - But I know, that would've been too easy! - This is EastEnders after all and nothing is ever straight forward as that! So Gray has a tracker on his car, was he watching where Chantelle was going or had been? Then he realised it had been driven someone on a day it was supposed to be at the garage. Us viewers know that Ben used the car last week to drive himself to the job Danny and Phil were at. Gray has already asked Chantelle where she went that day and obviously, Chantelle has nothing to do with it, but Gray unfortunately doesn't believe her, he is going to be jumping to all sorts of conclusions, even possibly thinking that Chantelle is cheating on him? Is he going to become violent with her again? This is why I worry for Chantelle so much, she can't put a foot wrong otherwise Gray will hurt her, physically. The violence that he has put her through is horrific, I fear that until Gray finds out the truth about his car, he's going to become physically abusive towards her again. But even though Gray is paranoid about his wife's whereabouts, he's the one who kissed another woman - well technically she kissed him! Gray has been an absolute rock for Whitney in recent weeks as he's taken on her case. She's currently staying with them and over time, Whitney has become more and more infatuated with Gray. He's been so kind to her, saying all sorts of nice things to support her, even though - I do feel as though he was pushing and pushing her for more information when he took her back to the scene where Leo died, he kept saying "Go on! Carry on!", pushing her and forcing her to relive the moments when Leo died. I kinda found that a little hard to watch, I mean it was brilliant acting from Shona McGarty, but Whitney has already been through so much and she's told the story over and over again, why should she have to relive it? - Anyway she's become so in awe of Gray and his kindness towards her, she suddenly kissed him. Now we knew this was coming, but what does this mean now? Will Gray respond and act and perhaps have an affair with Whitney? Will Whitney be completely apologetic and try and forget the kiss happened? Will Chantelle find out?

A very interesting ending tonight that's for sure! What do you guys think? Are you guys feeling just as sad as I am that we only have two episodes left? I do have a little bit of news for you though, within the last few hours, it's been revealed that next week, Ben is going to collapse due to him battling a fever and still feeling unwell after losing his hearing completely, he will then confide in Jay and tell him the truth about his disability. Hopefully it wont be too long until the soap will be back on our screens full term, with 4 episodes being aired every week as normal! I personally can't wait for things to get back to some form of normality! Anywayz, look after yourself everyone! Keep safe and I'll be back again next week. Thanks everyone! Love you all xXx

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score Chapter 8 Realizations

You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

But now it's just another show

You leave 'em laughing when you go

And if you care, don't let them know

Don't give yourself away

---

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

-Joni Mitchell - Both Sides Now

Gamora huffed, rolling and felt the vibration of her blade against Drax’s collide with a cutting force.

“You’re using too much force,” she instructed, doding another blow and swinging her sword around hitting the tattooed man with the blunt edge of the blade across his side. He grunted and rushed at her once more, one knife arching upward, the other coming around the left in what would’ve been a deadly motion had she not had the time to backstep, blocking the descending blade with the protective metal guards affixed to each forearm. Out of the corner of her eye, Peter sat watching the two of them, captivated.

“I thought you were a destroyer man,” he muttered between bites of chips. “But Gamora is really kicking your butt here.”

Drax frowned and made another attempt to swipe at her from behind but she ducked, grabbing his wrist and twisting it, just enough to surprise him. He dropped the knife on reflex and snatched it before it hit the ground.

“I am not surprised,” Drax responded unphased. He jerked his arm out of her grip in one practiced move. “She is a most noble fighter. Perhaps better than I and certainly better then you Quill.”

The human in question nodded, rifling through the crumbs of the chip bag. Gamora watched him with a small smile, he’s so goofy. So….

Something hard knocked against her hip. She reacted instantly, arching her sword above her head and bringing it down upon Drax, blunt end facing his neck. In the hold she used his own mass against him, sending him sprawling on the cold deck of the ship and kept a foot on his shoulder blades, the end of her sword poised just above the nape of his neck.

Go on, the fight’s not over until she begs for mercy. Nebula.

“Don’t….please...Gamora…,” those black eyes staring into her. Thano’s surveying the two of them like toys.

“Go on Gamora,.”

“Gamora….” a nervous glance towards their father. “Please ...you know what he’ll do to me.”

“Gamora! I said, I yield!” Drax laughs while he rolls over and only then does she remove the blade from his neck, her boot from his back. She eased up, coming out of a daze, shivering. But Drax’s large wide smile fills her narrow vision, extending a large rough hand. “That was a good match daughter of…..Gamora. I look forward to the day when I might best you.” She studied hand in front of her. Open and welcoming, ready to be held. Companionable. Trusting.

It was a good fight. A fair fight. Take his hand. She sheathed her sword, Nebula’s pleas echoing in her head. Thano’s gaze tearing into her.

“Y..you’re welcome Drax. Good match.”

He keeps his head open, expectant but Gamora settles for crossing her arms and nodding to him in what she hopes is a friendly enough gesture. The destroyer thankfully gets the hint and closes his palm into a fist. Sour shame wells in her stomach.

“Gggggrrt!” Groot shrieks from his pot, wiggling madly trying to dislodge himself from the soil. Gamora can’t help but grin and pats the little flora on the top of his head affectionately. Groot is safe. He's  little, he can’t hurt me…..for now. Small wooden hands grasped her wrist so delicately she is afraid that if she moves, the little fingers will crack and snap. “Grrrttt!” He chirped, content.

“You and Drax should practice together more often,” Peter’s voice so close to her makes the hairs on the back of her neck raise in apprehension. She forces herself not to reach for her sword. But him standing behind her like that, in her blind spot. He could attack at any moment. Stop it, he will not attack you.

“He is too reckless, there is no deliberateness to his movements. Just reckless bloodlust.”

Peter only shrugged. She flinched, feeling the lightness of his fingers playing against her elbow.

“Sorry, I...I didn’t mean.”

“It’s alright,” Gamora reassured. The shame welling inside of her again. “I didn’t mean to,”

“You don’t have to apologize Gamora,” his warm eyes looked at her with possibility. He has a strange innocence about him.  

“I am Groot!”

Gamora and Peter turned towards Groot in unified surprise. Peter was at the sapling’s side in an instant, picking up his pot with glee.

“Groot! Buddy you did it,” he beamed, “you talked!”

“I am Grooot!”

“Was that Groot?”

Drax popped his head into the room and bounded over Peter and the flora, wrapping his muscular arms around the two of them.

“At last! I knew you would soon begin your annoying phrase! Though your limited vocabulary is irritating, I am glad you are able to speak again!”

“I am Groot!”

“Someone get Rocket!”

Gamora’s lighted heart instantly plummeted,

“Peter I don’t think that’s a good….”

As if on cue the raccoonoid dove into the room.

Enhanced hearing, Gamora momentarily grumbled.

“Groot!” Drax let go just in time for the raccoonoid to vault up on the table and snatch Groot’s pot from Peter’s hands. “What did he say?!”

“What did he say?” Peter gauffed, “I’ll give you one guess.”

“Shut up Star-Shit,”

Rocket’s red eyes instantly went back to Groot, who babbled incoherently again.

Tell him, he has a right to know. Gamora bit her lip watching Rocket’s elated face beaming at Groot.  She sucked a breath, searching uncomfortably for the words. It was a rare time when she did not know what to say, considering that her words had been a means of survival just as well as her weapons.

“Rocket,”

“I am Groot!” Groot shouted happily. The raccoonoid looked up at her with ….trepidation?

“What did he say?”  Drax demanded.

“I am Groot, I am Groot!” The little flora tried to twist around, pointing with tiny fingers at the green woman.

“He….he said Gamora,” Rocket explained, confused. “Groot! Groot buddy, look at me! What’s my name?”

Gamora watched Groot ignore him and instead stare upward at her and Peter. “Groot!” Rocket barked, “man what’s my name?”

Groot’s silence held Gamora in a constricting hold, I should have told him sooner. He’d be better prepared.

“Groot!” Rockets claws twisted the pot around, his voice cracking in increasing desperation. “Groot! What is my name?”

Gamora’s heart raced, as Groot cocked his head to the side in blank confusion. Rocket’s ears flicked downward, chest deflating. She could not see his pupils for he had none, but she didn’t need to. The raccoonoid’s eyes widened, mouth agape. She looked away at the sight of his implants, sagging with his shoulders.

“Groot…..” begging. “Come on bud, please! Xandar remember?! The orb, that collector guy who was gonna turn you into a chair!” Rocket was trembling now, searching the flora’s face for any sign of recognition. She could feel Peter’s eyes on her.

“What’s going on?” He asked gently, though something in his tone told Gamora he already knew.

“Groot!” Rocket tried again, tears rimmed his eyes. “Halfworld!” He choked out, “getting free? That bounty on G’rva! The Lazy Rsket!”  Pretty sure that’s a bar, Gamora remembered from researching her targets. Rocket shook the pot now, sending Groot swooshing along with it, Drax stepped forward only to be cut off by Peter’s warning hand. “The bounty of Zarflaktn! Groot! The...the labs...that prison break on Harmut!” Groot, giggled with the to and throw motion of the pot, waving his arms playfully in stark contrast to Rocket’s mounting fury.  He’s barely holding it together. He’s going to snap. “You remember don’t you?! That...that time on Parnas…”

Gamora had not the slightest idea as to what “that time on Parnas,” was referring to, but whatever it was it was enough that Groot’s lack of acknowledgement was a devastating blow. Rocket drew backward, chest heaving.

“Rocket,” Peter dared step forward, “it’s it’s gonna be okay man. Groot’s just excited is all! It’s okay.” But the raccoonoid only stared at Groot, frozen. Breath rapidly accelerating to the point where Gamora wondered if he was in danger of passing out.

“Furry one, what is the matter?”

“G….groot…?” The tears behind Rocket’s leaked forward, his gaze unfocused. “Groot…”

“Rocket,” Gamora found her voice though it shook. “Breathe...Peter’s right. It will be alright, Groot’s just getting his words back.” The raccoonoid shook his head, fists clenched, body as tight as a bow string. She knew the posture. He was either going to snap and attack them or run. The raccoonoid glared at her through tears, for the second time. She realized with a start.

“Groot’s probably just tired,” Peter tried again with an heir of assurance that did nothing to assure.  Rocket only shook his head, cybernetic bolts going up and down, pulling against his skin with a taunt cruelty Gamora knew too well. He let out a hiss at Groot’s attempts to reach for him, and took off out of the room, dashing on all fours.

“I ammm Grooo!”

Drax picked the little flora up, restraining him from his attempts to crawl after the raccoonoid.

Gamora planted her hands on her hips, turning from them back to the flight deck.

Beep beep beep, beep, beep, beep.

“Nebula’s ship,” Gamora raced to the cockpit, frantically looking through the windows up into the blackness beyond. Of course there was no actual telling if it was her ship. The tracker had fallen off, but she’d set up alerts for any ships that came within the radius of Rocket’s calculations.

“Is that ...?” Peter followed her gaze towards the small ship off the starboard side. Gamora swallowed, eyes feverishly scrutinizing the object as critically as she could. I thought I’d have more time ...a million thoughts raced through her mind.

“That’s her,” Gamora spun on her heel, sword in hand as she made a B-line for one of the escape pods.

“Wait, Gamora!” The grip on her hand made her stop, eyes bulging in predetermined fury.

“What?”

“We’ll come with you!”

“Absolutely not,” she shook off his grip in an instant. “It’s too dangerous.”  

“We just saved Xandar!”

“Nebula’s worse,” Gamora glared, punching open the codes to the hatch that led to the pod.

“Just, gimme a second we’ll get trail her for awhile to make sure she doesn’t have backup and then fly the ship right up close in her blindspot as far as we can. We’ll disable her engines and force her to come out.”

“I appreciate it Peter, but I can’t risk that.”

He sighed, conceding to her without further argument.

“We’ll follow close behind, take a com control in case you need anything.”

She hopped into the pod, snatching one of the portable com controls and punched the release.

“Thank you.”  She watched Peter’s face as the roof of the ship came sliding down, watching his careful eyes for as long as she could.

“Wait!” Peter dove, one arm grabbing the descending roof with a metallic groan.

“What?!”

“Just...be careful okay?”

Gamora sighed, touching his hand gently.

“I will,” she pried his grip off the ship. “Now let go.”

He relented and stepped back as the door shut, the pod released, shooting out after Nebula. Peter’s face looming in her mind. She tightened her grip around the steering grips, the stolen Xandarian ship still drifting slowly through the cosmos. As she neared, a smug smile lit her face.

Nebula, I never thought you’d be so foolish. You stole a courier ship. It bore no external weaponry. No cannons, no guns. Nothing. For now her sister was defenseless. I will not kill her. I’ll...I’ll make her see reason, take her back to our ship. I’ll talk to her. Just talk. She thrust the pod forward, glancing at the sword on her hip.  Gamora swallowed the impulsive bloodlust, shame stirring in her gut.