#pulling up with my 2020 editing for this lad

[dont-misfire]

face card no cash no credit

ily peter -a lesbian

[superjinkyo]

shoot, that was meant to be 3, 10 and 30 XD oh well... answer whatever you feel like answering!

Vids, instead of fics! for the 2024 in review meme :)

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

This year, I have been in full-on Kendrick Lamar space. The musical arrangements tickle my brain and the lyrics have, in some cases, been down-right inspirational. I do know that any vids or other work I've produced since this summer has been influenced by Kendrick's model of artistic integrity. 😭

10.What vid was the most satisfying to finish? OMG - "From The Air" | Person Of Interest! I finished this vid in 2020 and it was the most ambitious thing I'd done to that point. But I was also fairly new to vidding overall and was not confident in the work. I asked someone to beta it for me and that was a mistake. It took a few more years and vids for me to really embrace my vidding ethos: I vid for myself. I vid media I enjoy to music I enjoy, arranged in edits that make my brain tingle. It's awesome if other people enjoy my stuff as well, but ultimately, I am my best customer. So, in the spirit of 2024 being the year that I finish up as many WIPs as possible, I pulled this timeline out again, tweaked it with everything I've learned since 2020 and sent it out into the world. I did not expect this vid to get the love that it did. The feedback was validating and satisfying. I'm very proud of this little vid that could! *Yeah, yeah, there is still that other WIP (2 WIPs...) Still on the "finish this before you die" list. 30. What would you like to vid next year? I'm pulling sources now for possibly the most self-indulgent vid I've ever cut. I have to be a little cagey about it, for reasons, but I'm really looking forward to getting into edit with this next year. For Pros, I completed by Blu Ray disk collection. Next year, I'm hoping to upgrade all of my source footage and really lean into making the shiniest vids I can for the Lads. For POI - I'm due for a rewatch anyway. No that I've got From the Air out of my system, I'd love to work on the next vid. I kinda' want to make a Taskmaster vid at some point. This show got me through the lockdown, it's visually interesting and chock-full of themes!

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. A window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

EEEEEEK here's part two!!! Part two sees more of Amelia's beautiful brain, the love she has for her team, and her brother, & her friendship with Kyle Walker. Hope you guys love it as much as i do - please let me know what you think - i'd love to hear from you all!

Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 2. | seconda parte

warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.

word count; 1469

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Wednesday 28/07 5pm AEST. Updates are twice weekly (Sunday & Wednesday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex

link to fic masterlist here

11 July 2021 | The Final Match.

The players for both national teams lined up side by side down the tunnel. Chiellini & Kane, both confident in their teams ability, captaining with great authority and mentorship for the ten men stood behind them. Amelia stood at the back of the tunnel, watching the scene ahead of her. Her dad, walking up the centre aisle between the two teams, shaking the hands of his players, confident in his preparation. A gentle hand to her brother's shoulder, saying everything it needs to say. It was the same hand that rubbed the back of her neck as he walked past, communicating the same thing. Go your hardest, you’re ready for this.

It was her turn, she started at the back of the line, and in true Italian style, a kiss was placed to both cheeks of every player up the line. When she reached Jorginho, a player she came to appreciate for his technical mindset and intellectual approach to the game, she kissed his cheek and turned to the player opposite him - her brother, who was trying his hardest to face forward and pay his little sister no mind. She knew what he was doing, but she wasn��t as heartless as the rest of the England squad probably perceived her to be. Reaching out, she rubbed her hand along the back of his neck, just as her father did to her, leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before continuing down the line of her players to the front. Shaking hands with Gareth Southgate, who no doubt had come to realise who the girl was in relation to his team, and a kiss to both cheeks of Mr Mancini, she walked out and took her place on the bench, ready for the game of her life.

120 minutes of football later.

Life is both beautiful and cruel. Whilst she hadn’t anticipated the early goal from Shaw, Amelia had predicted every play by the english and made sure her team was there waiting for them to turn and run. They knew to never let Harry Kane have the space to move the ball, to make sure Mason Mount was marked at all times and to pay attention to the silky smooth skills of Raheem Sterling. They knew that every player on the english side had the talent and skill to shoot and score, no matter if they're a striker or full back. In the end, the endless taunts from the british crowd and constant reminder of “it’s coming home” only fuelled the Italians further and pushed them harder, to their limits. Eventually both sides met with equal force and completed extra time at a draw, leading to penalties. All of Amelia’s preparation with Gianluigi Donnarumma would present itself now. She went over the preferred sides of the penalty takers she presumed would be stepping up for their country, and reminded him of all he has achieved & what there is still left to be done. After all, they are the masters of their own fate.

Donnarumma’s block of Bukayo Saka’s penalty rattled her bones and sent a chill down her spine. They had done it. The boys had finally brought football back to Rome for the first time since 1968, and while she can’t take all of the credit, she knows she single handedly played a part in this victory. As soon as happiness filled her body, guilt and sadness flooded her heart. She had been part of the problem that caused her brother so much pain. Her dad knew how to handle rejection, this wasn't his first rodeo, and could see with an open mind just how they had managed to achieve greatness. But her brother had truly believed they had it, that football was coming home to England.

After being surrounded by her boys, cheering and hugging her, screaming in relief that they had done it, Amelia took a step back and took a deep breath in. Looking over to the players in white consoling each other with looks of understanding and pats on the back, hugging those with the unfortunate fate of missing their penalties, she found her brother.

_____________________________________________________________

Squatting down with his elbows resting on his knees and hands covering part of his face, his eyes showing disbelief that the moment had escaped them. Jordan Henderson, the figurative big brother to my big brother, leaning down whispering what one can only assume is words of encouragement and strength to him. A voice to my right startles me, not because I wasn't used to the noise, but because it was a voice I haven't heard directed at me with anything other than venom in a very long time.

“He wants you to be there for him, don’t ever think for a second that he doesn’t want you around.” Kyle Walker speaks into the open, whilst looking around at the fans still in the stadium. The fans behind us right now would be watching with speculation, wondering why the english player is talking to an italian so soon after defeat.

“I don’t think he doesn’t want me around, i just don’t think he wants me around right now” I spoke back, trying to reason with myself and Kyle as to why i haven't gone up and offered my condolences to my brother.

“I think the only thing that can pull him out of this is you. He was beating himself up last night after your argument, and while he turned it into motivation for today, it's still weighing on his conscience. He’s happy for you, we aren't that mean so as to deny him the pleasure of being proud of his little sister...even if she is working for the enemy”

“You’ve always been one to be the voice of reason, whilst still being the clown I grew up to know and love”

“Does this mean we’re friends again? I’m sorry about last night” Kyle admitted.

“Last night wasn’t what ended our friendship...we stopped being friends the day you left Spurs.” I joked back to Kyle. I turned to look at his over-expressed shocked face and walked backwards a few steps while giggling, before turning and sauntering over to my brother who was now surrounded by some more teammates. Upon seeing me and noticing my solemn expression, finding comfort in the fact that I wasn't there to rub my win in their faces, the boys left my brother to himself.

I stood there, staring into the eyes of my brother, who after a few minutes reached out and pulled me into him as though I was a life raft and he was stranded in the ocean. We stood there, hugging, saying everything we needed to say through the way we were gripping to the backs of each other's team colours.

“I am so proud of you, you put up one hell of a fight Ben. Certainly made my job harder” I spoke into his shirt. He was the taller of the two, but I wasn't that short. Almost immediately after, I felt him push more weight onto me and sink a bit lower so he was in my neck, shedding a few tears he didn't want seen by those around us. Not even 5 seconds later, he stood up straight, wiping his eyes and offering me a smile.

“God, I wish you weren’t better at your job than I am at mine” he joked back to me. I smiled up at him, shaking my head.

“I would say you’re wrong but the medal that's about to be around my neck would say otherwise” i joke back with him. I was not about to dull my sparkle for someone else's sun to shine, whether he is my brother or not.

“We have to talk about everything that went down last night but i’ll let you enjoy your night with your team” Ben says as we turn and begin to walk toward the stage being set up for the ceremony.

“Thanks Ben, family dinner on Sunday? Tell your friends to come, you and i both know mum will have enough food to feed everyone without even trying”

“Of course, I'll put it in the lads chat & see who’s still around. Kyle will see it in our family chat - who even put him in there anyway!?”

“Honestly...I think it was mum. You know she loves her son, Kyle.”

As I walk back to my team, and into the arms of Fede and Jorginho who wrap me up in an Italian flag and start jumping around, I can't help but smile and laugh at my amazing life. Who knows what the future has to hold, but for tonight, the azzurri are the champions of europe and the trophy is coming home, to Rome.

Part 3. | parte terza

[sweetsubharry]

Hii!! Do you have any fics where Harry is the Damsel in Distress and Louis saves him?? Bonus if it's a kidnapping fic

Thank you very much!!

hiya!  💞 yes I have a couple of those! :) I do love a good classic rescue fic!

The first four are kidnapping and the rest are just the damsel in distress type of thing! I wasn’t sure how severe you wanted the distress? So the one’s where Louis is comforting Harry from a thunder storm and stuff I didn’t include, if you want to see those types too just send me another anon :) 

Anyway! Please stay safe and read the tags everyone! 💞

Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite

Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.

When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.

Burning Skies by emeraldharry

They both watched as ice and fire danced across their palms, hypnotized by the small things they could do with their powers. Snowflakes swirled around each other as the mist twisted about like a small tornado, while the fire in Louis' hands swayed and twirled gracefully—bright and warm and beautiful.

Before, Harry couldn't even think of touching him with the fear of turning his skin to ice. Now, he knew that Louis wasn't some ordinary human to shy away from. Louis was bright, fiery flames, a body of powerful waves of heat. Louis was everything he was not, his polar opposite, but it was all the more reason that they fit together just right.

or

[Mutant au: Harry likes to think he's normal. Except, normal boys don't freeze everything they touch. Louis thinks he's perfect just the way he is and shows him just that. Zayn is a telekinetic, Liam is a rising YouTube star, and Niall is the best human best friend there is.]

You Took My Heart By Surprise by LiveLaughLoveLarry

There is reason to believe Prince Harry’s life is in danger. After a failed kidnapping attempt, Louis is assigned to guard Harry around the clock. He is the best at what he does, but he has a tendency to not get along with clients. Louis and Harry start off on the wrong foot, but it soon becomes clear that neither is at all what the other expected.

~*~*~

Queen Anne met Louis’ eyes. “While your file documents many remarkable accomplishments, it also contains a number of early terminations. Why is that?”

“It all depends on what your priorities are,” he said slowly. “If your primary concern is protection, I’m your guy. If you’re looking for someone polite…” He shrugged. “I don’t generally try to be rude, but social graces aren’t what I’m being paid for. If someone values being sucked up to over being protected, that’s their problem.”

“You seem quite well-mannered,” Anne said, frowning.

Both Nick and Louis snorted at that. “You’ve only known me for ten minutes,” Louis said. “Give it time.”

cut your teeth on my heart by turnyourankle

Louis has worked as a security officer for years, but he's handed his first opportunity to be team lead. The assignment is nothing like what he expected.

Harry has spent years trying to distance himself from the pressure of the Twist name and legacy. But it's going to be hard to avoid when his mum hires him a bodyguard.

turn the sky black into a sky blue by orphan_account

Harry forgets that noses exist. Louis is a badass motherfucker. They bang.

“I’ve been in love with you since I dropped my books in the hallway and you made fun of me when you picked up my John Green novel off the ground.”

Save Me by CupcakeStyles

It took a door to slam him to the ground for Louis to look up and meet the broken eyes of Harry Styles, finding it in himself to want to help this boy from his misery. 

I'm falling again by nancy01

Liam gripped Harry's shoulders and ordered him to look at him. "Harry, tell me what's wrong?"

Harry couldn't hear what Liam was saying anymore, could only see and hear white noise. He wanted the hands to encase him and hold him, not keep him away at a distance.

Harry tried to speak but all that came out was a whimper again.

"Harry? Talk to me!" Liam ordered again.

"Gonna drop." Harry managed to get out, tears leaking down his face.

OR

harry drops on stage and Louis has to save him

If I Just Breathe... by whisperingwind

Harry has an asthma attack in the middle of an interview. Cue Louis saving the day, yet again.

Title from "Breathe" by Michelle Branch

If you're lost, just look for me by whisperingwind

Maybe the pain wouldn’t be so hard to withstand if it weren’t for his low tolerance.

Sure, he stubs his toe and tears up, and yeah, he might go to Louis for excessive cuddles after getting whacked in the head with a red bull can, but this is something entirely different.

He feels like he’s dying.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Louis whispers, trying to calm him down, and brushes his fingers through Harry’s hair. It’s slightly damp from the sweat rolling off his body, especially the sweat coating his face and neck. He doesn’t like seeing Harry cry, especially over things as petty as being a bit ill.

Though Louis is starting to realize that Harry is more than a bit ill. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.” It’s a command. He has to keep that overlay of sternness in his tone in order to get what he needs from Harry, otherwise he’ll never get a straight answer from the younger lad. “Deep breaths, come on. I need to know what’s going on and you’re the only one who can tell me.”

Or Harry contracts Appendicitis. Louis saves the day, again.

Title from "Walking in the Wind" by One Direction

How Much? (Enough) by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry has an asthma attack during X-Factor rehearsals and only Louis ever listened closely enough to know what to do to help him. That's sort of how things go between them, though. Louis revolves around Harry, a bit. Harry revolves around him too, a little. Somehow it works- very much a lot.

tell me that I'm wrong but I do what I please by moonlightlouis

au where Harry and Louis are in a relationship and someone hurts louis' baby so he defends his honor

(twenty minutes later) wound up in the hospital by b4byhoney

“Baby, I think a quick trip to A&E might do you some good, hm?” Louis keeps his voice as calm as possible. He doesn't want to startle Harry or make him scared, but he knows that Harry’s fever is too high and he can't risk Harry choking himself into another attack when he's so poorly.

He hears a sharp intake of breath come for Harry and he knows Harry is starting to panic. Louis moves his hand from Harry's hair to his back, rubbing circles into his sweat-soaked shirt.

“No, no. Shh, don't worry, darling. Everything is okay, you’ll be okay. I just know that the doctors will be able to make you feel much better much sooner than I can...Just want you to get healthy as soon as possible, okay?”

-

or the one where harry has the flu and louis is a protective, nervous-wreck of a boyfriend

We Are Inevitable by mmargarita

“What’s the second flaw?”

“The second inevitable flaw in your plan is:” Louis stood straight and walked towards Harry, grabbing his chin. Harry’s breath hitched. “Us.” Louis smiled. “We’re inevitable, baby. We’re soulmates, and we both know it. You just need to come back to me.” . . . . 30/07/2020: This work has been edited and corrected, and now has 7k words more.

Snow Soaked Love by sunniskies

They take off down the hill together, Louis pulling slightly ahead, relishing the rush of adrenaline as he twists his body deftly through the powdery snow, his skis kicking up a haphazard pattern of tracks in his wake. He can hear Harry laughing loudly over the noise of the flying snow and Louis thinks about how he can’t wait to kiss him when they reach the bottom.

Louis and Harry take a weeklong skiing holiday, but when Harry gets hurt, their plans shift.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.27

Beaten and Lost

03/24/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,109

Warnings: language, canon level violence, injuries, wounds, blood, smidge of angst

A/N: So...I should really edit this more but I’m tired and I’m sure you all want this more than you want my edits. lol I’m pretty satisfied with it. Hopefully y’all like it too. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES. Reblogs are appreciated!

“No! Clint! Get to those citizens. I’ll handle James.”

“Oh, you’ll handle him? Much like you handled those bandits in Bosset?”

“I did handle them.” Nat argues, ducking as another flaming ball of tar goes soaring over their heads. “We got out of there, didn’t we?”

Shielded for the moment behind an overturned vendor’s stall, she and Clint find themselves catching their breath as chaos reigns around them.

Nat can see Peter flying across rooftops, shooting his web at Hydra soldier after Hydra soldier. Incapacitating them by grabbing them and knocking them out or suspending them from the streetlamps and balconies.

She can’t see, but she can hear the whoosh of wind as Sam flies overhead, aided by his specialized wing suit.

“Barely.” Clint nods. “It’s all over after today, you know that, right? Everyone in the kingdom…in all the kingdoms will know who you all are now.”

“It was bound to come out.” Nat shrugs. “It was Steve and Tony that wanted to keep things quiet, for their families’ sake.”

“I can relate.” Clint sighs.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I didn’t mean to drag you back into this.” Nat assesses her old friend, dirty blonde hair, handsome features only slightly aged and looking more exasperated than tired.

Time with his family has done him good.

“It was inevitable.” He nods. “Alright, on the count of three.”

Nat nods, reaching down to take hold of a long metal rod that has broken off from a carriage in place of her usual adamantium daggers.

“Is that really a good idea?” Clint asks, eyeing her sheathed daggers now out and visible with her lack of cloak.

“I love him, Clint.” Nat shakes her head. “I’m going to marry him. I won’t kill him.”

“You might have to.” Clint insists.

Nat only meets his gaze, defiance written all over her scratched up and dirty face.

“One…Two…Thr-” As Clint and Nat make to rise, the weight of their temporary shield falls out from behind them and they have to scramble up onto their knees as they watch the stall levitate up into the air.

“What the-?” Clint begins and they both watch as it rises higher and higher, a strange red energy lifting it into the air.

It swirls around the stall like smoke, vibrant in spots where it pulsates with power.

“Looks like we aren’t alone anymore.” Nat says, bringing Clint’s eyes to her.

He sees her watching the road in front of them and follows her gaze to a young girl, no more than twenty with her hands in the air, clearly directed towards the stall that had just been ripped away from them.

She’s wearing a form fitting red leather tunic and jacket over a pair of dark gray pants. Inexpensive clothing that looks as if it were once new, but now tattered and torn.

Nat at least wears a collection of torn up skirts woven together around her hips making it look as if she were wearing a skirt while leaving the front of her legs exposed so that she can reach her weapons.

This girl is wearing just the pants. No weapons, nothing but the strange red energy.

Her hair is also red, but duller than Natasha’s, and waist length. Left to do as it pleases, it floats around her body as the red magics that she is clearly manipulating dances about her.

With eyes like scarlet fire, she suddenly brings her hands down and both Nat and Clint scramble up just in time, diving out of the way as the stall crashes into the cobbled road and explodes into splinters.

As she approaches, they get to their feet only to feel the strange rush of air and force along their fronts and get knocked to the ground again.

“Do you see-?” Clint begins.

“No.” Nat replies.

They rise again, attempting to get to their feet only to feel the same rush of air and force against their back.

They’re shoved forward and fall onto their hands and knees, landing roughly so that the frozen stones beneath their hands draw a little blood.

Annoyed, Nat glares.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“The girl is a witch. Could she be doing this?” Clint wonders.

“No, I don’t think so.” Nat sighs and makes to stand again only to get pushed hard in the stomach. It sends her soaring backwards into the air a few feet until she makes impact with something large and hard.

It catches her under the arms and the heat suddenly makes sense as she’s helped to her feet.

“It seems you’re having a bit of trouble, Lady Widow, shall I help?”

“Thor!” Nat gasps, grateful to be up on her feet, but she frowns at him all the same. “How many times must I tell you? It’s Black Widow.”

Thor smiles at her. “It seems you’ve found yourself a bit of a nuisance.”

“Indeed.” Nat nods.

“Hey, how about a little assistance, your Majesty?” Clint gestures at the girl whose stopped advancing at the sight of Thor.

“That girl is not your problem.” Thor says, pointing at the girl and watching her with a furrowed brow.

“Then what is it?” Natasha asks.

“It’s the boy.”

“Boy?” Clint pushes himself up onto his knees and looks around, confused. “What boy?”

Without warning Thor draws his arm back, calling into it his hammer which very nearly reaches him when the body of a man wearing head to toe silver appears with his hand around the handle midflight.

As it reaches Thor, dragging the boy along with it, Thor quickly grabs him and slams him into the ground only to place his hammer on his chest.

“This boy.” Thor smiles down at him.

Nat’s mouth is slightly agape as she stares down at Thor’s catch, Clint then rises and moves over to look down at the lad as he struggles and grunts against the weight of Mjolnir and attempts to push it off.

“Why couldn’t we see him?” Clint wonders.

“He was moving too quickly for your eyes to see.” Thor explains. “He didn’t know that he wouldn’t be able to lift my hammer.”

“Not so quick now, are you?” Clint taunts.

“I think Hawkeye and I can handle the girl.” Thor says, turning to Nat with a look of stern approval. “Barnes and Hydra are regrouping in the town square. You’d best head there and help the Spiderling, Pigeon, and Stark.”

“Spiderman and Falcon.” Nat corrects, but she’s already backing away from them. “Clint?”

“Go. I’ve got a God on my side.” He watches as Nat turns to run, then looks to the girl whose fingers are still dancing with red waves. “How are we going to handle this one?”

“You could never handle my sister.” Says the boy still struggling, glaring at both Thor and Clint. “The Scarlet Witch will warp you into your darkest nightmares. She will tear your mind apart piece by piece until you are nothing more than a sobbing, whimpering fool.”

“You promise?” Clint asks, then turns to give him a smug smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

She can hear it before it hits. She can feel the heat against her skin before she can even form the plea for Tony to stay his hand.

“James, please.” She begs, holding his arm back behind him with as much strength as she can muster.

Behind her the Falcon has lost a wing as is fighting hand to hand against a mob of Hydra foot soldiers.

Peter is with him, attempting to help as much as he can while also pulling the occasional bystander away from the fight.

Nat has been able to hold Bucky off for only a few minutes. Seven? Eight minutes? Maybe ten.

They feel like hours. Every punch avoided, ever kick expertly maneuvered feels like another thorn in Nat’s heart.

“Please, my love.” She whispers into his ear as he grunts and with a surge of strength pulls his arm from her hold behind his back.

He turns around and grabs her by the neck, squeezing with his flesh arm so tight that her eyes grow red as her hands hesitantly travel down to the blades along her thighs. As her fingers make contact with the cool metal, she realizes that she can’t do it. Nat can’t hurt him.

She mouths his name, a haggard whisper through the constriction of her throat, and brings her hands up to hold the one choking her to death.

Nat thinks she sees a shift in his eyes, a return of warmth, but if it was real it came and went too quickly for her to be sure it wasn’t just her oxygen deprived mind wishing he’d remember that he loves her. That he asked her to marry him.

She wishes that she could have a chance to tell him yes. That she’ll marry him. That even if she can’t give him the life he deserves, if he will have her, she will happily live out the rest of her days by his side.

He flips her, then slams her down against the cobble road. Nat gasps in as much air as she can as the darkness in her vision begins to clear. Her head is pounding, she can feel blood pooling along her scalp.

Wheezing, she forces her body to move, to shift. She wants to see him.

Bucky has turned and is moving towards Tony who has somehow found one of his gauntlets. At the center of his palm is the gleaming blue shine of his blaster. The magic and lightning that he seams to have weaved into his suit and tamed it to use at will.

He raises his glove, holds it up towards the approaching threat.

Nat pushes herself up and throws her and out towards Tony, almost mimicking his movement as the blue light grows brighter faster.

“Tony, n-!” She tries, but he fires, and it hits Bucky square in the chest.

He’s sent flying back into a heap on top of a pile of wooden crates.

Nat falls onto her side, staring at him in relief that he’s down, but she knows it isn’t over. She moves as quickly as she can to subdue him and manages to get onto her feet.

Racing to his side, she reaches for his arm, but he throws it up towards her and she’s sent flying back into one of the now broken lampposts.

She hits it hard and crumples with a pained groan around the base. Somehow, she manages to refocus, pulling herself back up onto her feet with the assistance of the broken post.

By the time she’s up, searching for Bucky, she finds him charging at Tony who has found the rest of his suit probably kept safe in his carriage. Hidden, like Steve’s shield had been. Like all of their tools.

Bucky races at full speed at Tony, not stopping as Tony sends shot after shot towards him. He dodges each blast of energy. He even grabs Tony’s wrists and points his hands up at the sky rending his shots useless.

Tony counters with a kick to his chest, sending Bucky skidding back only to readjust his footing and dive at his target.

Tony punches and kicks, avoiding Bucky’s metal arm as best he can while also trying to blast him with his hands.

It takes only a minute for Bucky to get Tony down on the ground. On his back, Tony is at a disadvantage.

Nat begins to race for them as Bucky brings his metal fingers down around the blinding circle at the center of Tony’s chest.

With his swollen cheek, cut lip, bloody nose, Bucky huffs with the strength he uses to pry his fingers in around the orb.

Nat can hear Tony’s own wounded grunt, one hand pulling at Bucky’s normal arm to pry it away from his neck and the other squeezing and tugging at the metal one around his power source.

“Don’t make me do this Barnes.” Tony gasps.

“Don’t!” Nat cries, still too far away.

The orb within Tony’s chest begins to glow brighter, more blinding, more chaotic in its pulsing energy.

“Tony, don’t!” Nat pleads, pushing her leg to run through her limp.

“I’m sorry.” Tony whispers, and the light in his chest explodes shooting up into the air with a twenty-foot beam.

Nat is thrown back by the force of the blast, but she recovers quickly, forcing herself to scramble up towards them.

Bucky lays motionless a few feet away from Tony’s gasping form his metal arm gone. Severed by Tony’s energy beam at the shoulder. Shards of sharp metal protrude from the wound.

“James!” Nat calls, falling to her knees at his side. “James, please.”

But he’s so still.

For one breathless minute, Nat watches the love of her life lay before her, not breathing.

But then his chest moves, and she’s saved the grief of mourning her one true love.

Turning to Tony, she finds him sitting up, one leg bent with his arm resting over it as he watches her and Bucky.

“Are you alright?” She asks him, ignoring the rage she feels towards him because she knows it was necessary.

“Alright?” Tony gets to his feet. Groaning and grunting as his body protests the movement. “I’m a king. I am…perfection. Urghhh…”

“Perfection my ass.” Nat mutters, turning her gaze back to Bucky.

“Is it my turn?” A shaking elderly voice suddenly speaks.

“By all means, old woman. Assist away.” Tony waves her over, walking with her as she exits one of the shops where she’d been hiding watching the entire fight.

Agatha stops beside Nat and gives her head a quick inspection.

“Get this bandaged up right away, unless you’d like to lay unconscious beside your lover.” She orders.

Nat frowns but tears a piece of fabric from her open skirt and begins to wrap the strip around the worst part of her wound. She doesn’t have time to do it justice.

Agatha drops down beside Bucky and begins to look him over. She opens his eyes and they look as normal as ever.

“Well?” Tony asks, impatient.

“He’s out. It also appears as if whatever spell he was under, it has been broken. His injuries are extensive. He will not wake.” She assures them. “Perhaps ever.”

“What?!” Nat demands, voice panicked.

“This wound.” She suddenly rips Bucky’s tunic open then unbuttons his shirt to show a massive amount of black bruising along the left side of his body. “This will not heal easy. We need to get him somewhere safe. The quicker the better.”

“Tony…” Nat begins, turning to him, but Tony is watching the crowd in the distance.

“We can’t just leave them. There are still too many Hydra soldiers running around the city.” He frowns, his mind also jumping to you and Steve.

Are the two of you alright?

“You won’t.” Thor says from above before he lands with a small earth-shaking boom beside them. “I will stay along with the Pigeon, the Spiderling, and the Hawk. The two of you should take Barnes and the other prisoners back to your castle.

“Someone also needs to begin the search for Steve and the little bird. From what Peter said, Steve was gravely wounded. And Y/N is pregnant. I need to know she’s safe.”

“Prisoners? What prisoners?” Tony wonders.

“Don’t worry.” Thor assures them. “They too will not wake before you reach the castle. Go, my friends. I will provide what assistance I can here.”

“Thor…” Nat begins, desperate to thank him.

“Natasha…” Thor cuts her off, turning a serious and suddenly terrified gaze on her. “Find her. Find Steve. Make sure they’re alright.”

Nat agrees, knowing that she too will not rest well until she knows that you’re home safe and that your little prince is hopefully, unharmed.

You’re exhausted, trudging through overgrown fronds and grass as you struggle to weave your way through densely packed sycamore trees.

The forest is old, the canopy all but obscures the night sky above.

In the darkness, you cling to Steve’s hand as he leads you through the trees. Every now and then the late winter wind blows and scatters the branches overhead to give you a stunning view of the clear sky. A jeweled sky dazzles you, then retreats behind the leaves once again.

Your arm is yanked forward, and you gasp tripping over your dress which you quickly yank up with your free hand to keep from falling.

Steve’s cloak, still around you to stave off the frigid air, nearly does you in with a second trip but you managed to find your balance.

“Steve…” You begin, a warning in your voice because he’s your guide. He can see better than you can apparently and you’re relying on him to keep you upright with your little prince at stake.

What you find is Steve slumped against a tree, still somehow standing, but clearly weak and unable to stand upright. He drops his shield where it falls with a muted clunk.

“Steve!” You gasp, releasing his hand which he was still holding onto tightly, and rush to his side.

Getting in close is the only way that you can see his face, so you get right up against him. His nose only a few inches away.

He has both eyes closed, one swollen and black, bruised so darkly you shudder to think what that might look like under proper light.

His lips are slightly blue and that gives you such fright. You throw the cloak off of your shoulders and quickly wrap it around him.

With a split bleeding lip, now crusted in the corners where he allowed the crimson to dribble and pool, he protests.

“No.” He says, still managing some volume and a stern tone despite the exhaustion he’s clearly feeling and the pain his body is fighting.

The longer he stands there pressed against the tree, the lower slides along the thick trunk.

“Keep it on. It’s c-cold.” He shudders and you frown at him.

“You need it more than I do.” You assert and clasp the cloak at around his neck then draw the rest closed to help him keep what little heat he has.

“But our baby.” He sighs, finally reaching the base of the tree where he sits with his legs bent but weakly splayed out as you make sure his cloak is secure.

“Our little one is warm and safe in my belly.” You give him a smile but begin to notice the way his shield arm is resting at an odd angle. “Steve, your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” He tries.

“Don’t lie to me Steven.” You frown.

“It’s dislocated.” He relents quickly not missing a beat, knowing the tone you’re using well from the night you found Sharon in his bed.

“Shit.” You bite your lip but move to position yourself beside him. “Steve, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“We had to get away.” He shakes his head but meets your eyes. “I needed you safe.”

“I am safe. But what will I do if you pass out here, in the middle of the forest? You should have told me. We should have stopped when I asked hours ago.” Your worry is outweighing your anger, and he seems to see that because he smiles weakly.

“Is this really the time to rub it in how right you are all the time?” He teases.

“Steve…” You fuss.

“I’m alright, my flower. Truly.” He lies.

You growl and move around the base of the tree sticking close to the ground. You move all the way around it, circling until you come up on Steve’s other side.

“What are you doing?” He wonders, curious but also wary.

“Looking for something. Do you still have your dagger?” You reopen his cloak and begin to feel around his waist.

He shifts for you, shoving his hips out a little and arching his back which makes him grunt with pain.

“Center of my waist. On the back.” He instructs.

Quickly you reach for it and pull it out before you pull his cloak shut again then turn around and begin to crawl away from him.

A tug on your skirts stops you and with his dagger in hand you turn to look back at him.

“Where are you going?” He frets, brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” You promise, reach back, and pull his hand away from your skirts.

You crawl around for maybe ten minutes, picking up every stone and pebble that your fingers blindly encounter. At one point you swear you feel a silky scaled body slither past your outstretched digits but you ignore it and swallow down the panic as you convince yourself that it was probably more afraid of you than you are of it.

At last, several trees away and just out of Steve’s sight, you find what you’re looking for. You reach around for the long thin branch that you’d felt earlier. With the knife, stone, and branch, you crawl back to Steve to find him sitting up, craning his neck for sight of you.

Upon it, he sits back and releases a long-held breath.

His legs are a little more relaxed, stretched out but still wide open in his fatigue. You settle between them, scooching as close as you can but turn back forward as you sit up as straight as you can.

“Can you undo my bodice?” You ask, with your collection of tools placed before you, you move your hair out of his waist.

“You can’t take off your clothes.” Steve says, not understanding what you’re trying to do.

“Steve…just do it. Open my dress and once you see my corset strings, open it and then rip the driest part of my underdress. As much of it as you can.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, defiant.

“Please.” You beg, but you make it clear it isn’t an option.

After a moment of hesitation, he huffs out a gust of air before he gets to work on your dress.

It takes him five minutes to undo it and your corset, then another three to find and rip as large a piece of your underthings as he can.

“Is that dry enough?” He checks, holding out for you a strip long enough to wrap your arm several times.

“That’s perfect, my love.” You gush, taking the strip to feel how damp it might be.

Your skirts would have been too wet, trudging through snow all night.

Steve does your dress up as best as he can or attempts to before you’re up on your feet moving away from him.

“Wait…” He complains but you don’t stop and instead begin to feel around the large trunks you pass.

“You can dress me again in just a moment.” You tell him, but he growls.

“You’re going to catch your death with your back open like that!” He fumes.

You ignore him in favor of your search and after only two minutes this time, you find what you’re looking for. A knothole almost just out of reach.

Licking your lips, you push yourself up onto your toes and with trembling fingers search the space within.

You shut your eyes and refuse to think about what animals you may be disturbing.

Luckily, you find none, and instead find what you’re looking for.

With your stick and fabric in hand you scoop out as much dead and dried foliage as you can into the fabric with your stick placed in the middle of it all. The knothole is abundant in material, so you take as much as you need before you wrap it up around one end of the stick.

You cut a few small holes into the fabric to give the twigs and leaves and dried grass some air before you move back towards where you can hear Steve groaning in pain.

As he hears you near, he makes sure to stop.

Because he needs it more than you do at the moment, you find your spot between his legs again and turn around for him.

Quickly he begins to do your dress up, fighting the pain of his dislocated shoulder.

He’s pushing himself too hard and you know that he will pay for it. You hate that!

By the time he laces up your bodice, the spark from his steel dagger on your flint rock strikes a spark and your torch comes to life, blazing bright in what was only a second again pitch dark.

It’s blinding and you blink against the light before you grab it and turn to look at your husband.

He’s impressed, his face full of it, but what a face it is all beaten, black and blue.

“Oh, Steve.” You cry, your heart breaking.

“I’m okay.” He promises, reaching up with his good hand to stroke your cheek.

“No, you’re not!” You smack his hand away and shove the end of your torch into the ground to free up your hands.

With his cloak already open from him dressing you, you reach for his shoulder and feel for the shift.

Giving him time to fight you on this is not an option so you quickly force him back against the tree.

“Stay still.” You order, and without waiting for him to acknowledge what you’re saying, you begin to pull his shoulder up in small smooth circles.

“No, Y/N, wait.” He groans.

“Shh.” You frown but continue to lift his arm up.

“Y/N…” He repeats, his voice fighting the agony.

“Shush!” You insist, then finally feel the shift as his arm pops back into place.

“AH!” Steve cries, his breathing hard and his eyes shut tight.

You guide his arm across his chest and push it towards him to make sure he knows to keep it there while you tear more fabric from the thick layers of your skirts.

With his arm in a sling, Steve seems a bit more relaxed.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Steve wonders as you get up and fix your dress before you reach over for the torch.

His eyes are glued to your face, full of admiration and adoration, bloody lips curled slightly in a smile.

“I grew up alone, remember? I had to take care of myself.” You move to his good arm and hook your own through them. “Come on, your Majesty. On your feet.”

He groans and grunts as you pull him back onto his feet and tired legs. While he gets used to the sensation again, you hand him the torch and lean him against the tree. Then you move to grab his shield and with a long spare piece of your skirts available, you tie the disc to your back where you know it will be safe.

“You look good in my insignia.” Steve flirts.

“Of course, I do. I’m your wife.”

Steve huffs a small laugh.

“Come on, King Flirt. Lean on me.”

He wraps his good arm around your shoulders and leans as much weight against you as he’s willing which gladly is enough that the two of you can get moving again. And with the torch now out to show you the forest, you gasp as you realize just where you are.

“What is it?” Steve asks, sensing your glee.

“I know where we are!” You smile. “Come on. If we make good time, we’ll get there before the sun rises.”

It takes two more hours of you pulling Steve forward, forcing him to move faster just as he’d first forced you away from danger. You’re starting to feel the bite of the cold, but you don’t dare take the cloak from him. Only now are his lips beginning to show a bit of color. His cheeks aren’t so pale. His eyes are a little brighter.

You’re at the top of a hill when you finally stop and you’re breathing hard as your eyes take in the sight you’d thought you’d lost forever.

If not forever, then at least for a long time.

Below you both, nestled into the hillside is the Village of Bright Rise. A dozen and a half thatched roofed buildings that were once the only home you thought you’d ever know.

The church is on one end of the square, old and crumbling but still made with materials far better than the village houses that look to be in the midst of repairs.

The mill to the farms is on the right, and the old manor home—long since abandoned by the lord that had settled Bright Rise way before your parents had been born—sits derelict and half destroyed about a mile away from the village.

Still, despite the poverty you see before you, there is beauty in the large trees and the flower fields that you can only remember from your memories now with winter having taken the blooms. The small pond is frozen, and the roads are blanketed with fresh snow from earlier in the night when the sky had filled with clouds before being whisked away by winter winds.

“Where are we?” Steve wonders, staring at the little village below.

“We’re in Bright Rise.” You declare. “This is Bright Rise, Steve. This is where I was born. This is where my parents died and where I grew up. Just outside of the village, just before you reach that abandoned manor, you see that main road?”

Steve follows where your gaze to the spot you mean and nods.

“I see it.”

“That’s where my life changed. That’s where I found Grandmother fallen over in the mud. Where I searched, elbow deep in a bog for her purse. That’s where Father found me. Took me. Changed me.

“That’s where my destiny to be your wife manifested. This…this was my home.” You turn to him, watch as his face changes and devours every inch of the small place he sees below him.

“Do you see that small cottage over by the farms? To the right of the mill? With its crumbling walls and overgrown vine?” You ask, watching him.

“I see it.” He says, “Is that-?”

“That was where I lived. We’ll be safe there for a bit.” You whisper, suddenly nervous about him seeing your home. “Will you stay?”

Steve hears the insecurity in your voice, the fear of what your old home might say about who you were. Who you are. Because even if you are no longer that same girl that was taken at the side of the road, she is still within you. She’s your core. The base of who you have become.

“Anywhere.” Steve says. “So long as I’m with you.”

[allycryz]

Five Favorite Passages from 2020

Tagged by @elveny and @kunstpause​ 

Tagging all who want to participate! That means you!

In no particular order! Limiting myself to what is published for at least four of these, one of them is not yet published

From my Thancred x Nerys x Emet fic Incandesce, which has a lot of passages I really dig! Also this leads to the scene where Thancred explains why he suggested this, which I also was excited to write

There is no buffer. No Thancred to protect her or distract her. And she is afraid-

But not of him, she realises with a start. It’s the intensity I feel when he touches me. I’m scared of how much I want him to touch me again. I’m scared at how right this seems.

She pushes herself up with one hand, the other cups the back of his neck. Pulls him down to her. Emet stills only a moment before his eyes flutter shut and he submits to her, mouth moving soft and slow over hers. His hands curl about her waist, thumbs stroking over her skin. He savors her with the slow drag of his tongue coaxing her more open, more vulnerable to his ministrations.

When they part his eyes are half-lidded, expression utterly relaxed. He’s beautiful. He’s always beautiful. But this pierces her in a new way, so lovely he could rend her heart in two with one look. And he just might.

Rest under the cut

From my Vault fix-it fic This World of Trials. This one got me emotional to write, re-write, and edit:

Propped upon a mountain of pillows, his arm and shoulder thickly bandaged, ashen and exhausted but alive and there and alive–she is out of tears but her dry eyes burn and her hands tremble.

Haurchefant softens all at once. His voice breaks. “Oh...oh my beloved. What you have done…”

Nerys rushes to him, narrowly missing Emmanellain and the sloshing broth. She clasps the uninjured hand Haurchefant raises, pressing her mouth to the palm, to the back of the hand. Presses it to her cheek and glories in the feel of his thumb over her skin. He is not too drained of water to cry–she sees the glimmer in his eyes.

It is not enough. She bends to him, tilting his chin to kiss him as if her continuing existence required it. Her hands curl in his silken hair, needing him as the land has ever needed the sun and the wind. Two voices gasp, a teacup clatters against a saucer, someone laughs aloud in delight.

His cheeks are wet against hers.

When at last they part she is half splayed the bed, half kneeling on the carpet. Haurchefant cups her wrists, disentangling her hands so he can kiss one and then the other. “Beloved,” he repeats. “Oh my dear, oh my heart…”

From this WoL Challenge Prompt Fill for Outrage, because Haurche is not often angry I wanted to write him angry in a way that was still *him*

The Exarch summons him to The Ocular and he dares not hope for...anything, truly. Better to go in with no expectations with this one. He thinks Y’shtola had the right idea, departing as she did.

He is being unkind. He does not like being unkind.

But he also does not like the idea of these souls in peril–Y’shtola, Thancred, his beloved Urianger–and that he may not see Nerys again. Or that he will, only to send her against horrific creatures of light and terror. And what of her soul?

When he sees that it’s Alphinaud, he is beyond unkind. He is furious.

Everything else was bad enough but this is a boy, his family’s ward. One who has wisdom beyond his years and responsibilities equal to those twice his age but still. Alphinaud is just a lad. What if something happens to his soul?

His body may still be in Garlemald!

This dialogue from Obstacles in Trajectory, where Thancred and Nerys bet answers in a game of Triad and are now collecting after she has a rough encounter with an ex. Fun to set up and write

“It was never...No. But I got to know her entire family and how proud they were of their daughter the artist. She paints these landscapes...it’s as if you’re there but it’s all enhanced. Entrancing. Capturing the aether in the landscape without making it so obvious.” Nerys traces the silhouette of the trees against the dusk, fingers dancing in the air over the patterns of aether she can see when she squints. “I bet the ones she got of this place were fantastic.”

“So what happened?”

Nerys shakes her head. “Mm, I’ve talked quite enough. You should tell me something.”

“That’s not the pattern we agreed on Mistress Eluned.”

She bristles. Reaches for the bottle again and takes a long swig. “You asked mine so I ask yours. Why didn’t you kiss me that day? I know you were going to.”

If she poked him now, she might knock him over. The shock on him shows he wasn’t expecting that one. Thancred wraps a warm hand around hers, prying the bottle away. Nerys holds on a moment, face scrunching into a scowl before she lets him take it.

“If I tell you,” he starts. He crouches beside her, holding the bottle in his lap. Close now–no matter how he seems to fight it, he ends up back in her orbit smelling of travel and sea salt and leather and blade oil. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“I’ll tell you.” She shifts to balance on her knees, looking down at him now. “I promise.”

And this WIP bit. After I finish posting Brisk, Keen Dagger Bold I have a side story/scene for This World of Trials with Aymeric and Estinien. 

THEN this story will go up which is part of a duology–two stories about Haurchefant and Nerys preparing for what lies ahead after Dragonsong. Haurchefant says goodbye to the life he has known as Lord Commander while rekindling his friendship with his brothers.

"I remember." At the time, Haurchefant assumed his brother had decided he liked his new friends better. Spending time with them would not earn Artoirel a scolding.

"...I never told you this. They were awful. Talked about how their parents called father Edmont Oathbreaker in private." Artoirel glowers. Not at anything in the room, Haurchefant suspects, but at bitter memories. "They would smile so sweet and say 'oh but surely you will not be like him Artoirel. It isn't your fault that your father is dishonorable.' And what could I do? They put on such manners that if I were to object, I would seem the rude one."

"...Did you tell no one?"

"No one. I'm sure Father and Mother knew. And you...even with things so fraught between us, I could never hurt you by exposing you to such things."

Outsiders often remark how different the trueborn Fortemps brothers are from each other. Haurchefant knows better how alike Artoirel and Emmanellain are.

Above all else, they share such startling naivete.

"Artoirel," he says. "If the other children said such to the Fortemps heir, what do you think they said to the Fortemps bastard?"

Artoirel looks struck, as if Haurchefant has loosed an arrow into his chest. His lips part to say something but nothing comes.

[forgottenlivesobverse]

Q&A with Paul Driscoll

Paul Driscoll is a writer, editor and publisher based in Leigh, Greater Manchester. He has been a Doctor Who fan ever since his parents took him to see the stage play The Seven Keys to Doomsday. He is the co-founder of Altrix Books, whose publications include his novel The Chronosmith Chronicles: After Vincent and the Doctor Who essay collection Army of Ghosts. Having written two books for Obverse Books’ Black Archive range, in 2020 he joined the editorial team. Paul’s work has also featured in various charity anthologies including You on Target (Watching Books), Whoblique Strategies (Chinbeard), The Unofficial 1987 Doctor Who Annual (Terraqueous Distributors), and The Curse of Fanfic (Obverse Books).

His story, ‘Doctor Crocus and the Pages of Fear’, stars the George Gallaccio Doctor, and it starts like this:

‘“Jack, it’s about to start, lad!”

‘Barney Forrester smiled as, with typical heavy-footedness and nearly tripping over his dressing gown cord in the process, his thirteen-year-old son Jack came bounding down the stairs to join his parents in the living room.

‘“Honestly,” laughed Barney’s wife, Mabel, who was furiously knitting a winter bedspread under a wobbly side lamp in the corner of the spacious room. “I don’t know why you watch that drivel.”’

FL: What attracted you to this project?

PD: The Brain of Morbius is one of my earliest Doctor Who memories. The six-year-old me wanted to know about the adventures of these other Doctors (it never once occurred to me that they could have been the faces of Morbius) and I even looked in the local library for them. I was fascinated by regeneration, having already seen two Doctors – Pertwee, of course, and Trevor Martin in the stage-play The Seven Keys to Doomsday. The chance to not only read, but to also write about one of them fulfils a 44-year-old ambition. I was so disappointed to learn they were never shown on TV.

FL: Each story in the book features a different incarnation of the Doctor. Tell us about yours.

PD: This Doctor is a showman with theatrical panache and a love of paradox and chaos. He styles himself as a magician and likes to make an impression. He is cheerful and optimistic by default. Scratch beneath the surface, though, and you will be left with the distinct impression that this is a man who has witnessed the most awful things. Wilfully unconventional, he thrives in places where censorship and conservatism are the order of the day. For that’s when he can best work his magic.

FL: These Doctors only exist in a couple of photos. How did you approach the characterisation of your incarnation?

PD: It started with a smile. That cheeky smile in the still of George Gallaccio set me on a path to imagining this incarnation as something of a trickster who likes to entertain only to pull the rug from under his unsuspecting victims’ feet. I decided to give him a pseudonym that he would use in a deliberately ironic way. Crocus was a slang Victorian term for a quack healer, a miracle worker suspected of being a con artist. Early on, before I started writing, I also wanted a catchphrase that reflected the fact that he styled himself as a Victorian gentleman (based on the costume Gallaccio was wearing), hence ‘dash my buttons’. That, and his rather unusual companion, helped to give me a voice for the character. Once I had established those basics, I was ready to put him into action.

FL: What's your story about?

PD: London schoolboy Jack Forrester is a comic book collector who strikes up a friendship with a mysterious new kid in town, Varne. When Jack’s father Barney, the local beat officer, arrests his comics supplier, Varne offers an alternative – pristine Penny Dreadfuls straight from the last century. The Doctor, stranded in the North London suburb, soon becomes embroiled in the censorship war and a frantic search for a missing child. But is history repeating itself?

FL: The stories are intended to represent a 'prehistory' of Doctor Who before 1963. How did that affect your approach? 

PD: I wanted to make this the Gallaccio Doctor’s debut adventure, hence I set it around the time in which it might have been broadcast. From the mid-fifties there were a number of prominent campaigns to ban the sale of comics and graphic novels (mostly those imported from the USA). Although barely any prosecutions were made, the Harmful Publications Bill (Children and Young Persons) of 1955 sought to protect young people from any fiction that was believed to glorify violence and encourage criminality. The Doctor would have hated such a move!

I also re-watched a number of classic 1950s-early 60s UK television shows, including Quatermass II and Dixon of Dock Green. The former became a template for a fictional show in my story (you might recognise the words used by the announcer) and the latter is name-checked. Dixon of Dock Green is sometimes unfairly regarded as a poor representation of policing at the time (compared to say Z-Cars), but I’ve played on that tension between myth and reality in my characterisation of the police.

One of the challenges was in trying to show how Doctor Who even then might be ahead of its time, while at the same time making it something that could feasibly have got through the censors. If I was to rewrite it as if first broadcast today, I might, for instance, have reversed the roles of policeman Barney and his stay-at-home long-suffering wife Mabel.  

FL: Who would be your ideal casting for a pre-Hartnell Doctor?

PD: George Cole. The kids would have loved him and he’d have played the Doctor as a rule-breaker with no heirs and graces – a true working-class hero – or Lionel Jeffries for a more eccentric take on the character.

FL: What's your next project? 

PD: I’m currently on the home stretch of The Holy Hotel, my entry into Christopher Stone’s parody series Professor Howe. I’m writing Howe as Miranda Hart in what is effectively my take on The God Complex. Under the Altrix Books imprint, I’m currently editing a sequel to Master Pieces amongst other projects, and for Obverse I’ve just finished my first book as a Black Archive editor and work in progressing on my third contribution to the range – Vincent and the Doctor.

[flowers-creativity]

A Rescue

Fandom: The Musketeers

Characters: Porthos, Aramis, d’Artagnan, Athos

Warnings: None

Summary:  The Inseparables will always come for each other. This time is no exception - they will find Athos and get him out.

A continuation of Whumptober 2020 Day 1 and Day 5, originally written for Comfortember 2020  

Notes:  So. This was actually supposed to be Comfortember Day 1. I wrote it and then basically sat on it all of November because life happened.

Anyway, even if it's incredibly late, here it is. Since it was supposed to continue (and complete) two of my Whumptober fics, it might be good to read those first if you haven't yet but it can also work as a standalone, I guess. Enjoy!

(I actually realised while editing today that there's still a plot hole - no one knows what happened with the Marquis, and nobody cares. That includes me 😏. If you will, just imagine that the boys figured out he was held somewhere else and went to rescue him once Athos has recovered a bit.)

AO3 link

Porthos narrowed his eyes at the buildings before them and at the lack of activity around them. “Almost looks like nobody's home,” he murmured, and Aramis next to him made a small noise of agreement in the back of his throat. “D'you think he's still here?”

On his other side, d'Artagnan flinched, and Porthos absent-mindedly reached out and patted the Gascon's back. He knew the lad was still all cut up about fleeing and leaving Athos behind but Porthos didn't think ill of him for it, and nether did Aramis. Which they had reassured him of, repeatedly and at length. Obviously, it still needed to find root in that thick head of his.

“It's nice of you to think so highly of me, Porthos, but unfortunately, my large number of talents does not include divination,” Aramis gave back with a bit of a frustrated bite to it. “There's nothing to do about it but try and find out.”

d'Artagnan cleared his throat nervously. “I saw a back door there,” he said, indicating a side of the main building. “It looked like it might be the kitchen?” He looked at them with those big, hopeful eyes that made Porthos feel as if he were two metres tall, never mind that d'Artagnan was almost the same height he was. He hadn't looked at Aramis and him like that for a while, the hero worship was usually reserved for Athos these days, but the whole mess had him revert to some of the behaviour of his earlier days with them, it seemed. Well, as soon as they had Athos back with them, he would hopefully find his feet again.

“I'll check it out,” Aramis said with a nod and deposited his arquebus unceremoniously in Porthos' hands, taking off his hat and placing it on d'Artagnan's head with a wink. “Look after those for me, will you?” he said. Standing up, he sauntered over towards the building in an unbothered stroll as if he was just happening to come by the place on his Sunday walk. Never mind that it wasn't Sunday.

He disappeared around the edge of the building, and Porthos tensed, waiting for any sign that something was wrong and Aramis needed help. But it took barely any time for the sharpshooter to reappear and wave at them eagerly to come and join him. Porthos clapped d'Artagnan on the back and went ahead, trusting that the young man would follow.

When they reached Aramis, he was leaning in the frame of the opened back door, arms crossed and the picture of relaxation. Behind him, there was a large, empty room, with a stove and cupboards that indicated that d'Artagnan had guessed right: It was the kitchen. Since it was late, there was only a faintly smouldering heap of ashes in the hearth, some pots and pans scattered over the counter-tops. No one was around, though the remains of the fire showed that the house had not been completely abandoned.

“Alright, careful and quiet,” Aramis breathed. He reclaimed his hat but left his arquebus outside, drawing his sword instead and motioning them to follow. Porthos nodded, and he followed on near-silent feet as Aramis went ahead and d'Artagnan again brought up the rear.

The house continued to be eerily quiet until they reached a front room. As soon as Aramis gave the door a careful push, a loud growl reverberated through the hallway and nearly made Porthos jump out of his skin. It took a moment for his heart rate to calm down and for him to identify the sound: Someone was snoring. With a lot of enthusiasm and intensity.

Aramis, biting the ends of his moustache to keep himself from laughing, leaned over and peered into the room, then leaned back and shook his head at them. “They're all asleep,” he reported in a low voice. “And from the look of all those empty bottles, they had their fun with the Marquis' wine cellar.”

Porthos snorted. “Good for them. It'll probably be the last fun they had for a while – or forever,” he replied. “We can leave them and search the rest of the house first?”

Aramis nodded and, after a last short glance into the room, pulled the door shut carefully, then waved at them to turn around. Porthos gave d'Artagnan a light shove to go ahead and take the lead, and the Gascon obediently moved back towards where they had seen some stairs branching off the hallway they were in. They took the stairs downwards and found themselves in another hallway but of the dark and dank cellar variety. d'Artagnan stopped and held up a hand, then quickly backed up two steps. Porthos just narrowly avoided bumping into Aramis when he did the same.

“Guard,” the young man hissed, halfway between wary and excited. Porthos decided to go with excited. A guard meant there was something to guard, obviously, and if they were lucky, that something was a prisoner. And if they were even more lucky, it was Athos.

They stood still in the half-shadow of the staircase, observing the guard quietly. He looked bored, twirling a set of keys around his fingers and occasionally glancing around half-heartedly. His sword was sheathed, and the spear he had in addition was out of his reach, leaning against the wall a few steps from him. Porthos shook his head and gave his brothers a wide grin. The whole thing was turning out pretty easy, and he didn't mind it one bit, even if he'd have liked to have a chance to fight a bit and make sure the men knew how much of a mistake they had made kidnapping a Musketeer, and moreover one of the Inseparables.

The other two returned the grin, even d'Artagnan looking more cheerful than he had ever since they had met up with him, and Aramis made a sweeping “After you!” gesture. He didn't have to tell Porthos twice. Sliding his sword back into its sheath, he took a deep breath and then shot out of the stairwell like a cannonball from its barrel. A few large steps brought him to the guard within seconds, and before a shout could escape the man's open mouth, a meaty hand clapped down on it and smothered any sound while the momentum carried them another few steps past the door the guard had been watching. Porthos just retracted his hand in time to replace it with his fist planted in the middle of the man's face, and he crumbled to the ground. The big fighter caught his doublet in time to slow his descent slightly, enough that while it wasn't noiseless, it was hopefully quiet enough not to be heard upstairs.

Aramis and d'Artagnan joined him as he took the keys the guard had been toying with from him. He grinned with satisfaction and threw the keys at d'Artagnan. “If you'd do the honour, lad?”

The Gascon nodded and went to work finding the right key for the lock. Once a click indicated he'd been successful, he took a step back, and for a moment, he looked at the door with an expression as if the hangman was waiting behind it for him. Porthos frowned but before he could say anything, d'Artagnan clenched his jaw, straightened his shoulders and pulled the door open, stepping through it with swift, confident steps. Porthos shot a side glance to Aramis but his brother just shook his head at him. He'd noticed it too, then, but there would be time for it later. For now, there was an open door and d'Artagnan's voice calling out: “Athos!” That was all it took to set Aramis and Porthos in motion.

Inside the room, they did find a prisoner, and it was Athos. Luck was with them today. Their brother was chained to the wall, and he was looking up sluggishly at d'Artagnan kneeling before him, a hand on his shoulder. “Athos, please tell me you're alright!” the young man pleaded, his voice filled with anxious impatience.

Athos blinked at him, then turned his head towards the other arrivals, and a slow smile spread over his face. “You're here,” he breathed.

d'Artagnan looked up at Aramis beseechingly, and the medic went into caretaker mode immediately. “Move, d'Artagnan,” he requested politely but firmly as he nudged the young man aside and knelt down on the floor in front of Athos himself. “See if you can find some water for him,” he added after a look around the room. Porthos followed his gaze and scowled. It wasn't an overly large room, and it was stark in its emptiness – among others, empty of anything that indicated Athos had been given food or drink. That alone probably explained why their brother was responsive but blinking slowly, seemingly not taking in everything around him clearly.

Leaving Aramis to it – both he and Athos hated hovering, even if Porthos sometimes did it nevertheless – he followed d'Artagnan outside and went back to the guard. He was still unconscious, so Porthos made short work of using his own belt to restrain his hands behind his back and leaned him against the wall of the hallway, adding his bandanna as a gag for good measure. Taking a look into the room once more, he saw with relief that Athos sat more upright, drinking from a cup Aramis held to his lips. In the background, d'Artagnan was hovering.

“Ah, Porthos!” Aramis called out pleasantly. “If you could please come here and render your expertise? I'm afraid the keys didn't include one we really need.”

Porthos ambled over and squatted down next to Athos. “Which one?” he asked the marksman who just gestured to the manacles around Athos' wrists and ankles. With a grunt, Porthos retrieved a lock pick from a satchel on his belt and went to work.

It didn't take long until the first lock gave way – Porthos was secretly a little bit disappointed in Athos, he should have been able to get out of those on his own. Not that it would have helped, necessarily, given that the room didn't have a window and the door had been locked from the outside. The second lock followed swiftly, and maybe five minutes later, Athos was free, and Aramis was inspecting his wrists carefully. “A bit abraded and red but nothing major,” he finally said, “and I take it the water helped, too?” He raised an eyebrow at Athos, and their brother nodded.

“Yes,” he replied hoarsely, then swallowed and coughed, “I'm better, thank you, my friends.” He took Aramis' offered hand readily and rose, still a bit unsteady on his feet. Porthos stood up, too, and stepped closer, not touching him but offering his bulk for support should Athos need it.

The eldest Musketeer's gaze was directed at d'Artagnan who was holding himself carefully apart, looking slightly pale and lost. Athos opened his mouth but before he could say something, d'Artagnan burst out: “Athos, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry, I should never have left you behind, we should have fought together, I should have gotten you out earlier, I should have--- This shouldn't have happened, I'm sorry!”

Porthos and Aramis exchanged a look behind Athos' back and rolled their eyes in concert. Of course …

Athos, on the other hand, had stilled at the outburst. Now, he took a deliberate step forward and put a careful hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder. The Gascon's head was hanging low, his hair obscuring his features, hands clenched at his sides. “d'Artagnan, look at me,” Athos said calmly. He waited a moment until his protégé raised his head and met his eyes, if somewhat unwillingly. “I don't know what exactly happened and what you did – I woke up in here, and the few times someone came, they would not tell me what happened to you. It was my greatest fear and sorrow that you might be lost to us, to me.”

d'Artagnan gaped at him, unbelieving at those warm words. Porthos exchanged another glance with Aramis – it was rare to hear Athos speak so freely. He must have been very afraid for d'Artagnan indeed. Well, several days spent with nothing but your own thoughts for company were a test of strength for any man, especially for someone like Athos whose own thoughts often were his worst enemy.

“So imagine my joy in seeing you unharmed,” Athos continued. “And not only that, but you came back and brought my other brothers with you to get me out of here.” He looked over his shoulder back at the other two and gave them one of his rare smiles. “You did well, and you don't have anything to apologise for.”

“But--” d'Artagnan started again but Athos only shook his head and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Porthos stepped forward and to d'Artagnan's side, clapping him on the opposite shoulder. “There,” he told him, “maybe you'll believe him if you don't wanna hear it from Aramis and me.” Despite the gruffness of his tone, he grinned at the young man when he looked up to meet his eyes.

d'Artagnan blushed slightly and ducked his head. “I just---” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I hear you,” he finally said, and he pulled back his shoulders and stood straighter.

Porthos nodded, satisfied. “There you go.”

Athos took a step back, letting go of d'Artagnan. “Well then, gentlemen,” he said, “I freely admit I can't wait to leave the questionable hospitality under this roof. If you please?” He made a gesture, and d'Artagnan went ahead with a smile that looked as if a weight had been lifted from him. Aramis, himself not completely innocent in the hovering department, the hypocrite, took the rear and indicated to Porthos to stay close to Athos who seemed to have rallied well but couldn't have fully shaken the effects of his imprisonment.

As they made their way outside, Athos leaned towards him and murmured: “By the way? The boot is a horrible hiding place for a lock pick. At least when they've chained you at the ankles.”

[dailytomlinson]

At the stroke of midnight on January 31st, 2020, the music industry was single-handedly saved by just a young lad from Doncaster. We can all agree, in confidence, that the majority of artists won’t top the charts with their first LP, especially with little to no promo. “Walls” however, debuted at #1 on the worldwide iTunes charts, a feat not many will come by. Judging by its success, we can rightfully assume this album could be rather magical. Just over a month into the decade, I can happily testify that this may be one of the greatest pieces of work we’ll see over the span of the next 10 years. The only record I may allow to top it, will be Tomlinson’s sophomore album, which is fair to speculate will have a little less fan service and show a little more of the grunge britpop rockstar that Louis is dying to showcase.

Oh, this guy’s from One Direction, too. It’s a fact that doesn’t need to be honed in on, but in case you aren’t familiar with his older work, the UK-based band is where he found his origin story. Though hopefully after giving these tracks a listen, we’ll all be able to start celebrating him as the solo artist he was destined to become.

Kill My Mind

You hate me and I want more.

Perhaps I wasn’t alive during majority of the Britpop Movement of the 90s, but I can wholeheartedly say that if you played this opening track for anyone familiar with the genre, they would tell you it would feel right at home as a feature on one of Oasis’ final LPs or as a single brought to us by Blur. However, that is not to say it lacks originality. In fact, far from it. His thick Yorkshire accent demands your attention right off the bat. This song is confident, it’s loud, it’s sexy, it’s everything his loyal fanbase has been patiently waiting to see arise from the musician. It’s a different Tomlinson than the general public may be accustomed to, but it’s a perfect example of an artist finding their authentic self. The electric opener, Kill My Mind gives us a little tease as to what’s to come.

Don’t Let It Break Your Heart

What hurts you is gonna pass and you’ll have learned from it when it comes back.

After careful consideration, this may be the album’s weakest link. It draws on a bit of the pop-influence his previous audiences may be more familiar with. Previously, Louis released a single-edit and a piano version. The one featured on the album, is by far the most well mixed. It’s filled with beautiful harmonies and the layered vocals have a lot of potential. The message of this song is uplifting, about overcoming hardships with grace and allowing yourself to grow from them — A theme not uncommon in Louis’ writing or general life philosophy. Always the lyricist, coming from him, this message works and it works beautifully into the melodies of the song. My main issue comes down to production. The background vocals are choppy and make the general feeling of the song a little cheesy. Ultimately, it all just sounds forced. I can say however, experiencing this song live is a different story. Some songs are meant to be played live, and this just happens to be one of them.

Two of Us

We’ll end just like we started, just you and me, and no one else.

The lead single was one Louis himself proclaimed needed to be written, or else his other art would suffer from being insincere. “I just feel like musically, I almost needed to get this song off my chest,” He recently told Rolling Stone, “People say writing is a part of therapy and in a way, I feel like I’d been avoiding writing this song because I knew I only had one chance to get it right.” For those who may be unaware, at the start of his solo career, Louis tragically lost his mother, the person he was closest with, to leukemia. Out of respect to him, I won’t dwell on this, and it does feel fairly inconsiderate to put the piece under review, per say. I will, however, assert that it is a stunningly orchestrated song. You can feel the authenticity and honesty radiate from the words he’s singing, especially in the big build up of the chorus in comparison to the heart wrenching and softly sung outro. It’s rare we find artists who are proud to wear their hearts on their sleeves and speak with true openness. Each song is an example of this, but Two of Us broadcasts this vulnerability loudly, as he gives us an anthem of accepting that you’re grieving and reminding listeners to always hold onto hope.

We Made It

Nothing in the world that I would change it for, singing something pop-y on the same four chords.

Yes, she’s corny, yes her lyrics might not be up to standard with the rest of his work, and yes, she is my favorite song on the album. We Made It, is filled to the rim with nostalgia and embracing that although the tunnel was dark, there was in the end, a light. For anyone who has grown up with Louis and supported him through all the twists and turns of his decade long career, this song could be a celebration of us and our relationship with our favorite musician. There were always struggles along the way, but we, as fans, never turned our back on him. We were there for him when he needed us to lean on. The sentiment remains when reversed. Ultimately, whatever we needed, he was able to provide. It’s easy to see how much of a team Louis and his followers are, and this song is honoring that. If you’re less familiar with the singer himself, then this track is just a fun little guitar-driven song that reminisces those nights of getting smashed and blazed out of your mind with your young love, and what’s wrong with that?

Too Young

Face to face at the kitchen table, this is everything I’ve waited for.

Every album needs a song to cry to, and for Walls, this is the one. There aren’t too many complexities here, as Louis has said he generally likes to stray away from metaphors when he can. The calm strumming of the acoustic guitar, lends itself beautifully to the track, and never overpowers Louis’ voice. Vocally, this a huge example of a myriad of Louis’ strengths. It contrasts some of the heavily belted pieces we hear later on in the album, and focuses on the softness he’s able to convey in his killer range of a chest voice. His raspy tone demonstrates a certain intimacy. When the song is listened to through headphones with your eyes closed, it almost feels as if Louis is right there on your bedside, gently playing a personal piece he had just written and trusts you enough to perform it for you first. There’s a certain amount of emotional intelligence demonstrated in this song, as he never pulls the victim card, but instead takes the mature approach of admitting to where he’s gone wrong. This notion is used a lot in his writing, and is a sure telling of his character. This catchy little ballad wouldn’t feel out of place on albums of most genres, musically lacking some originality, which is made up for with the candor and polish in his vocals.

Walls

Why is it that “thank-you” is so often bittersweet?

Objectively speaking, this is the most well crafted track on the album. Perhaps even more Oasis-y than some Oasis hits, it even earned itself a writing credit from Noel Gallagher himself. By now, we are more than well accustomed to embracing Louis’ themes of overcoming barriers (or walls). It’s something he writes about often, and why shouldn’t he? He knows what it’s like to stand above what’s been dragging you down more than anyone. The most titular lyric opens and closes the tune, proclaiming, “Nothing wakes you up, like waking up alone.” As soon as you’re hit with this, you know you’re listening to a song which dares the audience to take the musician earnestly. Louis has always been the funny one who has chosen to never take himself too seriously in life. With his music, he had a hard time at the start, choosing to put out records which defined Top 40, but never himself. Walls forces us to accept the artist he’s become. It proves to every listener, that Louis Tomlinson is a musician, a lyricist, a vocalist; a true craftsman. He is a serious artist and this salient track forces us, for once, to accept him as one.

Habit

Took some time cause I ran out of energy, of playing someone I’ve heard I’m supposed to be.

Back in February of 2018, Louis teased this lyric on his twitter, sending fans into a frenzy of when and where this sentiment might come into play. In September of last year, he finally played it for us live. This live version of the song was a complete bore. Again, Louis’ biggest asset in his music may come from his lyrics. He wrote more songs for One Direction than any of the other boys, often partnering with Liam Payne who would work on the melodies, while Louis focused on cutting deep with his words. This is more than evident here, meaning any initial fondness of this song was independently due to the verses he was singing. When the album finally hit stands and we were able to hear the studio version, I have to say, my opinion on this absolute banger changed drastically. It may be a little controversial to say, but this song might have some “Yeehaw” vibes. If you played someone the opening, before his vocals take the forefront, it would’ve been fair to assume it was a Maren Morris hit. Country/Britpop/Indie isn’t exactly something I would ever even consider diving into, but let me tell you, this certified bop has been on repeat. Here’s to hoping him and his band can put together a new live arrangement before the world tour kicks off in March.

Always You

Waiting to wrap your legs around me, and I know you hate to smoke without me.

To be blunt, this song was a fan service. If it wasn’t for Louis’ persistent stans, this track may have been ditched months ago. However, when he gave us a glimpse of the songs upbeat opening lyric three years ago, we latched onto it. For years we bombarded Louis, telling him this song needed to stay on the record, and thank God he listened. He did realize partway through the writing process that this isn’t the sort of music he would like to put out anymore, so it may not resonate with someone looking for the more grungy side of the artist. Always You is almost pure bubblegum and it sounds like it should be radiating loudly off festival speakers. The tune will be a crowd-pleaser, and will surely bring the most hype for live audiences. It’s the sort of song you want to scream out while drunk on a rooftop in the summer atop the ocean in New York City, which is exactly what myself and approximately 6800 more fans will be doing this June.

Fearless

Cash in your weekend treasures, for a suit and tie, a second wife.

God damn is Fearless sexy. The slow and pulsing beat of this song, with the organic guitar, subtle production, and his sultry voice are a recipe for a great and sensual tune. The song was written with the inspiration of feeling youthful, and teaches what to center your sense of self-worth around. There’s a certain level of maturity that comes with a song of these intentions, and in that, Louis is able to showcase his ever growing wisdom. “What I wanted to try and capture with the song is the idea of feeling youthful and how important that is,” He recently said in an interview with Apple Music, “I’m at this age where I’m on the cusp — I’m definitely not a teenager, I’m not a young lad anymore, nor am I old, but I sit in this space where I’m aware of my age now. I hear it as a playground or going back to real youth.”

Perfect Now

Don’t you wanna dance? Just a little dance?

On release day, Louis did a signing, where he bravely asked a few fans what their least favorite track on the album was. Everyone said Perfect Now, earning them a high five from the man himself as well as his genuine agreement. While many look at it as a cheesy romantic love song, masquerading as a rejected early One Direction track, mirroring Little Things or What Makes You Beautiful, I wholeheartedly disagree. It’s easy to chalk it down to being “cheesy” when you approach it as being romantic, but if you look at it as, simply, a love song, that changes the perspective. Louis sings over an appealing and charming little guitar melody, and you can almost hear his smile. It’s easy to picture him singing this to his younger sisters as a piece of brotherly encouragement, or to a good friend who needs cheering up after a hard day. This darling melody invites you to dance around your bedroom feeling loved. Perfect Now proves that not everything has to be deep and serious; allow yourself to be open to simply feeling happy over the little things like a lyric that makes you smile. When in the chorus he prompts, “Keep your head up, love,” listeners can’t help but feel a sense of personal support from the artist, which is exactly what makes this song so special.

Defenseless

We’re sleeping on our problems like we’ll solve them in our dreams.

It’s understandable why Louis likes to stray from metaphors in his writing, because generally speaking, they simply aren’t good. This is proven with lyrics such as, “I’m running to you like a moth into a flame”. As well as this, the rhyming of “defenseless” with “fences” and then “defenseless” again, doesn’t exactly sit well. The song does grow to be much better than anticipated after the first verse. The pre-chorus has a strong beat, which you’ll find yourself accidentally clapping along to in public. The bridge allows Louis to explore his falsetto, which is something we’ve never heard from him before. It’s strong and poignant, and it’s a real shame that his old band never gave him the opportunity to use his voice in all its capabilities. The control Louis has over his vocals throughout this song is astonishing, and almost unheard of in most modern music outside of musical theatre. This track alone, proves that he is one of the most vocally gifted artists not only to come out of One Direction, but to come out of the last decade at all.

Only the Brave

It’s a church of burnt romances and I’m too far gone to pray.

The lyrics to this song are borderline poetry. Each and every word draws you in and leaves you speechless. It’s a short song, ending at one minute and forty-four seconds, and that works well. It leaves us wanting more, even when we’ve reached the very end of the whole experience. The tune feels like a mantra; something to sing to yourself as you prepare for something you’re nervous about or to congratulate yourself on completing a task you never thought you could accomplish. There’s no proper structure and his voice has a retro filter over top, giving the whole thing a bit of a wartime vibe. The most powerful moment is undoubtedly when he sings, “It’s a solo song, and it’s only for the brave,” as a way of patting himself on the back for where he is now in life and in his career. It’s the perfect way to bring home the album. After 12 tracks demonstrating it, it is proven to us that he doesn’t need his ex-bandmates, he doesn’t need a big production, he doesn’t need Simon Cowell, he doesn’t need other songwriters dictating what direction to go, because he is Louis Tomlinson and he is brave.

[godzilla-kong-ellen]

Godzilla Kong ellen teljes film (𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏-𝐇𝐔) magyarul ☑️

👓 Godzilla Kong ellen 2021 Teljes Film Magyarul 👓

Nézd meg most📺 ▶️▶️▶  https://tinyurl.com/2xynr7g4

Mind tudtuk, hogy egyszer megtörténik. Világunk szörnyei nem kerülhetik el egymást. A legnagyobbaknak előbb-utóbb szembe kell találkozniuk, hogy összemérjék az erejüket. De ahol King Kong és Godzilla csatázik, ott senki más nincs biztonságban.

felszabadított: 2021-03-24 Runtime: 0 percek Műfaj: Akció, Sci-Fi Csillag: Alexander Skarsgård, Millie Bobby Brown, Kyle Chandler, Rebecca Hall, Brian Tyree Henry Rendező: Terry Rossio, Eric McLeod, Ronald R. Reiss, Sarah Halley Finn, Owen Paterson

Kulcssz Godzilla Kong ellen Godzilla Kong ellen előzetes magyarul, Godzilla Kong ellen ingyen letöltés, Godzilla Kong ellen netmozi, Godzilla Kong ellen, Godzilla Kong ellen magyar premier, Godzilla Kong ellen film online, Godzilla Kong ellen teljes film, Godzilla Kong ellen teljes film videa, Godzilla Kong ellen indavideo, Godzilla Kong ellen magyarul online, Godzilla Kong ellen teljes film magyarul indavideo, Godzilla Kong ellen online filmek ingyen Godzilla Kong ellen online 2021 filmek magyarul Godzilla Kong ellen filmek magyarul Godzilla Kong ellen online videa 720p 1080p Godzilla Kong ellen film letöltés Godzilla Kong ellen 2021 teljes filmek magyarul videa Godzilla Kong ellen online sorozatok Godzilla Kong ellen ingyen filmek Godzilla Kong ellen 2021 film letöltés ingyen Godzilla Kong ellen filmek online magyarul Godzilla Kong ellen magyar filmek online

its somewhat ironic that a movie about time travel can’t be reviewed properly until your future self rewatches the movie. It’s bold of Nolan to make such a thoroughly dense blockbuster. He assumes people will actually want to see ~Tenet more than once so they can understand it properly, which some may not. This movie makes the chronology of Inception look as simplistic as tic-tac-toe. Ergo, it’s hard for me to give an accurate rating, without having seen it twice, as I’m still trying to figure out whether everything does indeed make sense. If it does, this movie is easily a 9 or 10. If it doesn’t, it’s a 6. It’s further not helped by the fact that the dialogue in the first 15 minutes of the movie is painfully hard to understand / hear. Either they were behind masks; they were practically mumbling; the sound effects were too loud; or all of the above. The exposition scenes are also waayyy too brief for something this complex — a problem also shared with Interstellar actually. (Interstellar had this minimalist exposition problem explaining Blight, where if you weren’t careful, you’d miss this one sentence / scene in the entire movie explaining that Blight was a viral bacteria: “Earth’s atmosphere is 80% nitrogen, we don’t even breathe nitrogen. Blight does, and as it thrives, our air gets less and less oxygen”). I guess it’s a Nolan quirk. Hopefully, a revision of the film audio sorts the sound mixing out. I do like the soundtrack, but it’s too loud initially. I liked all the actors. You think John Washington can’t act at first, but he can, and he grows on you as the film progresses. And Pattinson is his usual charming self. Elizabeth is a surprise treat. And so on. Its worth a watch either way. See it with subtitles if you can. And definitely don’t expect to fully understand whats going on the first time around. Its one hell of a complicated film. It will be very hard for an average viewer to gather all the information provided by this movie at the first watch. But the more you watch it, more hidden elements will come to light. And when you are able to put these hidden elements together. You will realize that this movie is just a “masterpiece” which takes the legacy of Christopher Nolan Forward If I talk about acting, Then I have to say that Robert Pattinson has really proved himself as a very good actor in these recent years. And I am sure his acting skills will increase with time. His performance is charming and very smooth. Whenever he is on the camera, he steals the focus John David Washington is also fantastic in this movie. His performance is electrifying, I hope to see more from him in the future. Other characters such as Kenneth Branagh, Elizabeth, Himesh Patel, Dimple Kapadia, Clémence Poésy have also done quite well. And I dont think there is a need to talk about Michael Caine Talking about Music, its awesome. I dont think you will miss Hans Zimmer’s score. Ludwig has done a sufficient job. There is no lack of good score in the movie Gotta love the editing and post production which has been put into this movie. I think its fair to say this Nolan film has focused more in its post production. The main problem in the movie is the sound mixing. Plot is already complex and some dialogues are very soft due to the high music score. It makes it harder to realize what is going on in the movie. Other Nolan movies had loud BGM too. But Audio and dialogues weren’t a problem My humble request to everyone is to please let the movie sink in your thoughts. Let your mind grasp all the elements of this movie. I am sure more people will find it better. Even those who think they got the plot. I can bet they are wrong. ~Tenet is the long awaited new movie from Christopher Nolan. The movie that’s set to reboot the multiplexes post-Covid. It’s a manic, extremely loud, extremely baffling sci-fi cum spy rollercoaster that will please a lot of Nolan fan-boys but which left me with very mixed views. John David Washington (Denzel’s lad) plays “The Protagonist” — a crack-CIA field operative who is an unstoppable one-man army in the style of Hobbs or Shaw. Recruited into an even more shadowy organisation, he’s on the trail of an international arms dealer, Andrei Sator (Kenneth Branagh in full villain mode). Sator is bullying his estranged wife Kat (Elizabeth Debicki) over custody of their son (and the film unusually has a BBFC warning about “Domestic Abuse”). Our hero jets the world to try to prevent a very particular kind of Armageddon while also keeping the vulnerable and attractive Kat alive. This is cinema at its biggest and boldest. Nolan has taken a cinema ‘splurge’ gun, filled it with money, set it on rapid fire, removed the safety and let rip at the screen. Given that Nolan is famous for doing all of his ‘effects’ for real and ‘in camera’, some of what you see performed is almost unbelievable. You thought crashing a train through rush-hour traffic in “Inception” was crazy? You ain’t seen nothing yet with the airport scene! And for lovers of Chinooks (I must admit I am one and rush out of the house to see one if I hear it coming!) there is positively Chinook-p*rn on offer in the film’s ridiculously huge finale. The ‘inversion’ aspects of the story also lends itself to some fight scenes — one in particular in an airport ‘freeport’ — which are both bizarre to watch and, I imagine, technically extremely challenging to pull off. In this regard John David Washington is an acrobatic and talented stunt performer in his own right, and must have trained for months for this role. Nolan’s crew also certainly racked up their air miles pre-lockdown, since the locations range far and wide across the world. The locations encompassed Denmark, Estonia, India, Italy, Norway, the United Kingdom, and United States. Hoyte Van Hoytema’s cinematography is lush in introducing these, especially the beautiful Italian coast scenes. Although I did miss the David Arnold strings that would typically introduce these in a Bond movie: it felt like that was missing. The ‘timey-wimey’ aspects of the plot are also intriguing and very cleverly done. There are numerous points at which you think “Oh, that’s a sloppy continuity error” or “Shame the production design team missed that cracked wing mirror”. Then later in the movie, you get at least a dozen “Aha!” moments. Some of them (no spoilers) are jaw-droppingly spectacular. Perhaps the best twist is hidden in the final line of the movie. I only processed it on the way home. And so to the first of my significant gripes with ~Tenet. The sound mix in the movie is all over the place. I’d go stronger than that… it’s truly awful (expletive deleted)! Nolan often implements Shakespeare’s trick of having characters in the play provide exposition of the plot to aid comprehension. But unfortunately, all of this exposition dialogue was largely incomprehensible. This was due to: the ear-splitting volume of the sound: 2020 movie audiences are going to be suffering from ‘~Tenetis’! (LOL); the dialogue is poorly mixed with the thumping music by Ludwig Göransson (Wot? No Hans Zimmer?); a large proportion of the dialogue was through masks of varying description (#covid-appropriate). Aaron Taylor-Johnson was particularly unintelligible to my ears. Overall, watching this with subtitles at a special showing might be advisable! OK, so I only have a PhD in Physics… but at times I was completely lost as to the intricacies of the plot. It made “Inception” look like “The Tiger Who Came to Tea”. There was an obvious ‘McGuffin’ in “Inception” — — (“These ‘dream levels’… how exactly are they architected??”…. “Don’t worry… they’ll never notice”. And we didn’t!) In “~Tenet” there are McGuffins nested in McGuffins. So much of this is casually waved away as “future stuff… you’re not qualified” that it feels vaguely condescending to the audience. At one point Sator says to Kat “You don’t know what’s going on, do you?” and she shakes her head blankly. We’re right with you there luv! There are also gaps in the storyline that jar. The word “~Tenet”? What does it mean. Is it just a password? I’m none the wiser. The manic pace of ~Tenet and the constant din means that the movie gallops along like a series of disconnected (albeit brilliant) action set pieces. For me, it has none of the emotional heart of the Cobb’s marriage problems from “Inception” or the father/daughter separation of “Interstellar”. In fact, you barely care for anyone in the movie, perhaps with the exception of Kat. It’s a talented cast. As mentioned above, John David Washington is muscular and athletic in the role. It’s a big load for the actor to carry in such a tent-pole movie, given his only significant starring role before was in the excellent BlacKkKlansman. But he carries it off well. A worthy successor to Gerard Butler and Jason Statham for action roles in the next 10 years. This is also a great performance by Robert Pattinson, in his most high-profile film in a long time, playing the vaguely alcoholic and Carré-esque support guy. Pattinson’s Potter co-star Clemence Poésy also pops up — rather more un-glam that usual — as the scientist plot-expositor early in the movie. Nolan’s regular Michael Caine also pops up. although the 87-year old legend is starting to show his age: His speech was obviously affected at the time of filming (though nice try Mr Nolan in trying to disguise that with a mouth full of food!). But in my book, any amount of Caine in a movie is a plus. He also gets to deliver the best killer line in the film about snobbery! However, it’s Kenneth Branagh and Elizabeth Debicki that really stand out. They were both fabulous, especially when they were bouncing off each other in their marital battle royale. So, given this was my most anticipated movie of the year, it’s a bit of a curate’s egg for me. A mixture of being awe-struck at times and slightly disappointed at others. It’s a movie which needs a second watch, so I’m heading back today to give my ear drums another bashing! And this is one where I reserve the right to revisit my rating after that second watch… it’s not likely to go down… but it might go up. (For the full graphical review, check out One Mann’s Movies on t’interweb and Facebook. Thanks.) As this will be non-spoiler, I can’t say too much about the story. However, what I can is this: ~Tenet’s story is quite dynamic in the sense that you won’t understand it till it wants you to. So, for the first half, your brain is fighting for hints and pieces to puzzle together the story. It isn’t until halfway through the movie that ~Tenet invites you to the fantastic storytelling by Christopher Nolan. Acting is beyond phenomenal, and I’d be genuinely surprised if neither Robert Pattinson nor John David Washington doesn’t receive an Oscar nomination for best actor. It’s also hard not to mention how good Elizabeth Debicki and Aaron Johnson both are. All around, great acting, and the dialogue amps up the quality of the movie. The idea of this movie is damn fascinating, and while there are films that explore time-travelling, there’s never been anything quite like this. It has such a beautiful charm and for the most part, explains everything thoroughly. It feels so much more complex than any form of time-travelling we’ve seen, and no less could’ve been expected from Nolan. Oh my lord, the score for this film fits so perfectly. Every scene that’s meant to feel intense was amped by a hundred because of how good the score was. Let me just say though, none of them will be found iconic, but they fit the story and scenes so well. In the end, I walked out, feeling very satisfied. Nevertheless, I do have issues with the film that I cannot really express without spoiling bits of the story. There are definitely little inconsistencies that I found myself uncovering as the story progressed. However, I only had one issue that I found impacted my enjoyment. That issue was understanding some of the dialogue. No, not in the sense that the movie is too complicated, but more that it was hard to make out was being said at times. It felt like the movie required subtitles, but that probably was because, at a time in the film, there was far too much exposition. Nevertheless, I loved this film, I’ll be watching it at least two more times, and I think most of you in this group will enjoy it. I definitely suggest watching it in theatres if possible, just so you can get that excitement. (4/5) & (8.5/10) for those that care about number scores. At first, I want to ask Christopher Nolan one question, HOW THE HELL YOU DID THIS? Seriously I want to have an answer, How did he write such as this masterpiece! How did he get this complicated, fabulous and creative idea? What is going on in his mind? The story is written and directed perfectly, the narration style was absolutely unique. I have no idea how can anyone direct such as this story, that was a huge challenge, and as usual Nolan gave us a masterpiece that we’ll put beside (Memento), (Inception) and (Interstellar) The movie is so fast-paced in a good way, there was no boring moment. The chemistry between John David Washington and Robert Pattinson was great and funny and both of their performance was really good. Elizabeth Debicki performance was the best in the movie because she had the chance to show her acting abilities and she cached up that chance and showed us an A level acting. The music wasn’t unique and distinct as the music of Interstellar for example and I think this movie needed the touch of Hans Zimmer, I’m not saying that Ludwig Göransson failed but Hans Zimmer in another level. If there was something I’d say that I didn’t like it in the movie would it be that Nolan discarded any set up or characters backgrounds except Elizabeth Debicki dramatic story but it wasn’t that bad for me, I didn’t care about that, the exciting story didn’t give me the chance to focus on it. But the actual problem was the third act, it was really complicated and I got lost and I convinced myself to discard the questions that were in my head and enjoy the well-made action sequences and Elizabeth Debicki performance. I think this kind of movie that gets better with a second and third watch. I honestly don’t quite know where to begin with ~Tenet. I love Christopher Nolan’s work but I have never seen a more complicated film (and I understood Memento). ~After nearly three hours, I came away from ~Tenet not knowing myself, my mind reduced to nothing more than piles of ash. Was there time travel involved? Hmm, there was definitely something about time inversion. I mean, does Nolan even understand what he wrote? Look, I give credit to the director because he’s one of the few directors left who knows how to create a compelling and intelligent blockbuster. ~Tenet is full of Nolan trademarks — the gratuitous Michael Caine cameo, a loud, really loud score, complete with stunning cinematography and slickly

[monster-hunter-full-version-2021]

▷魔物獵人▷Monster Hunter 完整版(HD-2020)手表

魔物獵人 劇場版魔物獵人 (2020)完整版 — 在线观看【魔物獵人 劇場版】-魔物獵人 -(2020)-完整版 — →【HD 1080p】← 魔物獵人 劇場版 (魔物獵人) [2020] ZH Chinese

🔴觀看完整版 HD➡ https://t.co/4BxU7OA7N9?Fhd=1

导演: 王昊 主演: 书亚信 / 马栗 / 王群石 / 尤亦泽 类型: 剧情 制片国家/地区: 中国大陆 语言: 汉语普通话 上映日期: 2020-08-20(中国大陆) 片长: 77分钟 又名: Monster Hunter

怪兽猎人的剧情简介 · · · · · · 　　民国上海，帅气怪兽猎人宇文凭着猎人一族特有的本领预感到了上豪大饭店有怪兽现身。怪兽袭击了花旦顾青，宇文从天而降英雄救美，打断富少警探天明的公开表白。三人卷入连环灵异案件。酒会贵客连遭毒手，顾青身陷绑架危机，三人小队相爱相杀，啼笑破案，所有线索都指向尘封千年的传说——巨兽重现人间，背后神秘操控者浮出水面⋯⋯

!●魔物獵人 ! 【●魔物獵人】 完整版本《 !2020!-BLURAY》在线观看电影HD ▷●魔物獵人 ▷ 完整版 高清- (2020) 电影 |IMax-HD| 在线观看电影 “●魔物獵人” 完整的电 豆瓣電影- !●魔物獵人! 『●魔物獵人 』 2020! 線上看1080p~!鴨HD 电影完整版 ●魔物獵人 完整版本 (2020-HD) ●魔物獵人]完整版觀看電~看电影. 看 ! 完整版 ~●魔物獵人 《 ●魔物獵人] Zh》 線上看電影臺灣 TAGS: ●魔物獵人中文线上看 釜山行完整版线上看 ●魔物獵人中文字幕 ●魔物獵人完整版 ●魔物獵人电影 ●魔物獵人中文 ●魔物獵人 什么时候上映 ●魔物獵人 在线 ●魔物獵人 线上看 ●魔物獵人 预告 ●魔物獵人 下载 ●魔物獵人 英文 ●魔物獵人 百度云 ●魔物獵人 演员 ●魔物獵人 剧情 ●魔物獵人 半岛线上看 ●魔物獵人 电影 ●魔物獵人 下载 ●魔物獵人 線上看 ●魔物獵人 线上看 ●魔物獵人 2020 [●魔物獵人 ] 高清 ●魔物獵人 PTT ●魔物獵人 下载mp4 ●魔物獵人 BD ●魔物獵人 AMC 〚●魔物獵人〛» ●魔物獵人完整版本 — 電影(2020-BLURAY) — 在線觀看完整版 ●魔物獵人完整版本»〚●魔物獵人〛 — 電影(2020-BLURAY) — 在線觀看完整版 看電影(2020)▷●魔物獵人完整版本▷〚●魔物獵人〛▷在线观看完整版本-下载完整视频[高清视频] ●魔物獵人(●魔物獵人) 澳門上映 ●魔物獵人 在线 ●魔物獵人 豆瓣 ●魔物獵人 線上看小鸭 ●魔物獵人 粤语版 ●魔物獵人 yahoo 电影 ●魔物獵人 上映新年 ●魔物獵人 2020 票房 [●魔物獵人 ] 电影2020下载 ●魔物獵人 电影2020 马来西亚 ●魔物獵人 电影2020新加坡 ●魔物獵人 下载看 ●魔物獵人 电影2020美国 ●魔物獵人 电影2020喜剧 [●魔物獵人 ] 电影2020 威秀 ●魔物獵人 电影2020春节 〈魔物獵人〉電影 ― 完整版 (●『Monster Hunter』 , 2020-HD) 〈魔物獵人〉线上 ― 完整版 (●『Monster Hunter』 , 2020-HD) 〈魔物獵人〉小鸭 ― 完整版 (●『Monster Hunter』 , 2020-HD) 〈魔物獵人〉下载 ― 完整版 (●『Monster Hunter』 , 2020-HD) 〈魔物獵人〉線上看 ― 完整版 (●『Monster Hunter』 , 2020-HD) 〈魔物獵人〉線上看小鴨 ― 完整版 (●『Monster Hunter』 , 2020-HD) 魔物獵人 (2020) 完整版 魔物獵人 (2020-HD) 完整版 魔物獵人完整版 (2020) ― 线上 《〈魔物獵人〉在线观看影片》 魔物獵人线上看●『Monster Hunter』 2020 電影 《魔物獵人》 線上看小鴨 魔物獵人下载高清品质 流媒体视频 ●魔物獵人完整版 ●魔物獵人2020中国上映时间 新发布 ●魔物獵人AV/BD- ●魔物獵人台湾/中国电影 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 2020上映 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 HD線上看 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 線上看小鴨 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 电影完整版 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 線上看下載 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 2020 下載 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 線上看完整版小鴨 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 (2020)完整版本 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 |1080P|完整版本 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 线上看(2020)完整版 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 線上看(2020)完整版 ●魔物獵人 (『Monster Hunter』 )(2020) ●魔物獵人 (『Monster Hunter』 )2020年再次觀看電影 ●魔物獵人 『Monster Hunter』 線上看|2020上映|完整版小鴨|線

Its somewhat ironic that a movie about time travel can’t be reviewed properly until your future self rewatches the movie. It’s bold of Nolan to make such a thoroughly dense blockbuster. He assumes people will actually want to see Black Box more than once so they can understand it properly, which some may not. This movie makes the chronology of Inception look as simplistic as tic-tac-toe. Ergo, it’s hard for me to give an accurate rating, without having seen it twice, as I’m still trying to figure out whether everything does indeed make sense. If it does, this movie is easily a 9 or 10. If it doesn’t, it’s a 6. It’s further not helped by the fact that the dialogue in the first 15 minutes of the movie is painfully hard to understand / hear. Either they were behind masks; they were practically mumbling; the sound effects were too loud; or all of the above. The exposition scenes are also waayyy too brief for something this complex — a problem also shared with Black Box actually. (Black Box had this minimalist exposition problem explaining Blight, where if you weren’t careful, you’d miss this one sentence / scene in the entire movie explaining that Blight was a viral bacteria: “Earth’s atmosphere is 80% nitrogen, we don’t even breathe nitrogen. Blight does, and as it thrives, our air gets less and less oxygen”). I guess it’s a Nolan quirk. Hopefully, a revision of the film audio sorts the sound mixing out. I do like the soundtrack, but it’s too loud initially. I liked all the actors. You think John Washington can’t act at first, but he can, and he grows on you as the film progresses. And Pattinson is his usual charming self. Elizabeth is a surprise treat. And so on. Its worth a watch either way. See it with subtitles if you can. And definitely don’t expect to fully understand whats going on the first time around. Its one hell of a complicated film. It will be very hard for an average viewer to gather all the information provided by this movie at the first watch. But the more you watch it, more hidden elements will come to light. And when you are able to put these hidden elements together. You will realize that this movie is just a “masterpiece” which takes the legacy of Christopher Nolan Forward If I talk about acting, Then I have to say that Robert Pattinson has really proved himself as a very good actor in these recent years. And I am sure his acting skills will increase with time. His performance is charming and very smooth. Whenever he is on the camera, he steals the focus John David Washington is also fantastic in this movie. His performance is electrifying, I hope to see more from him in the future. Other characters such as Kenneth Branagh, Elizabeth, Himesh Patel, Dimple Kapadia, Clémence Poésy have also done quite well. And I dont think there is a need to talk about Michael Caine Talking about Music, its awesome. I dont think you will miss Hans Zimmer’s score. Ludwig has done a sufficient job. There is no lack of good score in the movie Gotta love the editing and post production which has been put into this movie. I think its fair to say this Nolan film has focused more in its post production. The main problem in the movie is the sound mixing. Plot is already complex and some dialogues are very soft due to the high music score. It makes it harder to realize what is going on in the movie. Other Nolan movies had loud BGM too. But Audio and dialogues weren’t a problem My humble request to everyone is to please let the movie sink in your thoughts. Let your mind grasp all the elements of this movie. I am sure more people will find it better. Even those who think they got the plot. I can bet they are wrong. Black Box is the long awaited new movie from Christopher Nolan. The movie that’s set to reboot the multiplexes post-Covid. It’s a manic, extremely loud, extremely baffling sci-fi cum spy rollercoaster that will please a lot of Nolan fan-boys but which left me with very mixed views. John David Washington (Denzel’s lad) plays “The Protagonist” — a crack-CIA field operative who is an unstoppable one-man army in the style of Hobbs or Shaw. Recruited into an even more shadowy organisation, he’s on the trail of an international arms dealer, Andrei Sator (Kenneth Branagh in full villain mode). Sator is bullying his estranged wife Kat (Elizabeth Debicki) over custody of their son (and the film unusually has a BBFC warning about “Domestic Abuse”). Our hero jets the world to try to prevent a very particular kind of Armageddon while also keeping the vulnerable and attractive Kat alive. This is cinema at its biggest and boldest. Nolan has taken a cinema ‘splurge’ gun, filled it with money, set it on rapid fire, removed the safety and let rip at the screen. Given that Nolan is famous for doing all of his ‘effects’ for real and ‘in camera’, some of what you see performed is almost unbelievable. You thought crashing a train through rush-hour traffic in “Inception” was crazy? You ain’t seen nothing yet with the airport scene! And for lovers of Chinooks (I must admit I am one and rush out of the house to see one if I hear it coming!) there is positively Chinook-p*rn on offer in the film’s ridiculously huge finale. The ‘inversion’ aspects of the story also lends itself to some fight scenes — one in particular in an airport ‘freeport’ — which are both bizarre to watch and, I imagine, technically extremely challenging to pull off. In this regard John David Washington is an acrobatic and talented stunt performer in his own right, and must have trained for months for this role. Nolan’s crew also certainly racked up their air miles pre-lockdown, since the locations range far and wide across the world. The locations encompassed Denmark, Estonia, India, Italy, Norway, the United Kingdom, and United States. Hoyte Van Hoytema’s cinematography is lush in introducing these, especially the beautiful Italian coast scenes. Although I did miss the David Arnold strings that would typically introduce these in a Bond movie: it felt like that was missing. The ‘timey-wimey’ aspects of the plot are also intriguing and very cleverly done. There are numerous points at which you think “Oh, that’s a sloppy continuity error” or “Shame the production design team missed that cracked wing mirror”. Then later in the movie, you get at least a dozen “Aha!” moments. Some of them (no spoilers) are jaw-droppingly spectacular. Perhaps the best twist is hidden in the final line of the movie. I only processed it on the way home. And so to the first of my significant gripes with Black Box. The sound mix in the movie is all over the place. I’d go stronger than that… it’s truly awful (expletive deleted)! Nolan often implements Shakespeare’s trick of having characters in the play provide exposition of the plot to aid comprehension. But unfortunately, all of this exposition dialogue was largely incomprehensible. This was due to: the ear-splitting volume of the sound: “”&G2&”” movie audiences are going to be suffering from ‘Black Boxis’! (LOL); the dialogue is poorly mixed with the thumping music by Ludwig Göransson (Wot? No Hans Zimmer?); a large proportion of the dialogue was through masks of varying description (#covid-appropriate). Aaron Taylor-Johnson was particularly unintelligible to my ears. Overall, watching this with subtitles at a special showing might be advisable! OK, so I only have a PhD in Physics… but at times I was completely lost as to the intricacies of the plot. It made “Inception” look like “The Tiger Who Came to Tea”. There was an obvious ‘McGuffin’ in “Inception” — — (“These ‘dream levels’… how exactly are they architected??”…. “Don’t worry… they’ll never notice”. And we didn’t!) In “Black Box” there are McGuffins nested in McGuffins. So much of this is casually waved away as “future stuff… you’re not qualified” that it feels vaguely condescending to the audience. At one point Sator says to Kat “You don’t know what’s going on, do you?” and she shakes her head blankly. We’re right with you there luv! There are also gaps in the storyline that jar. The word “Black Box”? What does it mean. Is it just a password? I’m none the wiser. The manic pace of Black Box and the constant din means that the movie gallops along like a series of disconnected (albeit brilliant) action set pieces. For me, it has none of the emotional heart of the Cobb’s marriage problems from “Inception” or the father/daughter separation of “Black Box”. In fact, you barely care for anyone in the movie, perhaps with the exception of Kat. It’s a talented cast. As mentioned above, John David Washington is muscular and athletic in the role. It’s a big load for the actor to carry in such a tent-pole movie, given his only significant starring role before was in the excellent BlacKkKlansman. But he carries it off well. A worthy successor to Gerard Butler and Jason Statham for action roles in the next 10 years. This is also a great performance by Robert Pattinson, in his most high-profile film in a long time, playing the vaguely alcoholic and Carré-esque support guy. Pattinson’s Potter co-star Clemence Poésy also pops up — rather more un-glam that usual — as the scientist plot-expositor early in the movie. Nolan’s regular Michael Caine also pops up. although the 87-year old legend is starting to show his age: His speech was obviously affected at the time of filming (though nice try Mr Nolan in trying to disguise that with a mouth full of food!). But in my book, any amount of Caine in a movie is a plus. He also gets to deliver the best killer line in the film about snobbery! However, it’s Kenneth Branagh and Elizabeth Debicki that really stand out. They were both fabulous, especially when they were bouncing off each other in their marital battle royale. So, given this was my most anticipated movie of the year, it’s a bit of a curate’s egg for me. A mixture of being awe-struck at times and slightly disappointed at others. It’s a movie which needs a second watch, so I’m heading back today to give my ear drums another bashing! And this is one where I reserve the right to revisit my rating after that second watch… it’s not likely to go down… but it might go up. (For the full graphical review, check out One Mann’s Movies on t’interweb and Facebook. Thanks.) As this will be non-spoiler, I can’t say too much about the story. However, what I can is this: Black Box’s story is quite dynamic in the sense that you won’t understand it till it wants you to. So, for the first half, your brain is fighting for hints and pieces to puzzle together the story. It isn’t until halfway through the movie that Black Box invites you to the fantastic storytelling by Christopher Nolan. Acting is beyond phenomenal, and I’d be genuinely surprised if neither Robert Pattinson nor John David Washington doesn’t receive an Oscar nomination for best actor. It’s also hard not to mention how good Elizabeth Debicki and Aaron Johnson both are. All around, great acting, and the dialogue amps up the quality of the movie. The idea of this movie is damn fascinating, and while there are films that explore time-travelling, there’s never been anything quite like this. It has such a beautiful charm and for the most part, explains everything thoroughly. It feels so much more complex than any form of time-travelling we’ve seen, and no less could’ve been expected from Nolan. Oh my lord, the score for this film fits so perfectly. Every scene that’s meant to feel intense was amped by a hundred because of how good the score was. Let me just say though, none of them will be found iconic, but they fit the story and scenes so well. In the end, I walked out, feeling very satisfied. Nevertheless, I do have issues with the film that I cannot really express without spoiling bits of the story. There are definitely little inconsistencies that I found myself uncovering as the story progressed. However, I only had one issue that I found impacted my enjoyment. That issue was understanding some of the dialogue. No, not in the sense that the movie is too complicated, but more that it was hard to make out was being said at times. It felt like the movie required subtitles, but that probably was because, at a time in the film, there was far too much exposition. Nevertheless, I loved this film, I’ll be watching it at least two more times, and I think most of you in this group will enjoy it. I definitely suggest watching it in theatres if possible, just so you can get that excitement. (4/5) & (8.5/10) for those that care about number scores. At first, I want to ask Christopher Nolan one question, HOW THE HELL YOU DID THIS? Seriously I want to have an answer, How did he write such as this masterpiece! How did he get this complicated, fabulous and creative idea? What is going on in his mind? The story is written and directed perfectly, the narration style was absolutely unique. I have no idea how can anyone direct such as this story, that was a huge challenge, and as usual Nolan gave us a masterpiece that we’ll put beside (Memento), (Inception) and (Black Box) The movie is so fast-paced in a good way, there was no boring moment. The chemistry between John David Washington and Robert Pattinson was great and funny and both of their performance was really good. Elizabeth Debicki performance was the best in the movie because she had the chance to show her acting abilities and she cached up that chance and showed us an A level acting. The music wasn’t unique and distinct as the music of Black Box for example and I think this movie needed the touch of Hans Zimmer, I’m not saying that Ludwig Göransson failed but Hans Zimmer in another level. If there was something I’d say that I didn’t like it in the movie would it be that Nolan discarded any set up or characters backgrounds except Elizabeth Debicki dramatic story but it wasn’t that bad for me, I didn’t care about that, the exciting story didn’t give me the chance to focus on it. But the actual problem was the third act, it was really complicated and I got lost and I convinced myself to discard the questions that were in my head and enjoy the well-made action sequences and Elizabeth Debicki performance. I think this kind of movie that gets better with a second and third watch. I honestly don’t quite know where to begin with Black Box. I love Christopher Nolan’s work but I have never seen a more complicated film (and I understood Memento). After nearly three hours, I came away from Black Box not knowing myself, my mind reduced to nothing more than piles of ash. Was there time travel involved? Hmm, there was definitely something about time inversion. I mean, does Nolan even understand what he wrote? Look, I give credit to the director because he’s one of the few directors left who knows how to create a compelling and intelligent blockbuster. Black Box is full of Nolan trademarks — the gratuitous Michael Caine cameo, a loud, really loud score, complete with stunning cinematography and slickly inventive action set-pieces. This time around however, Nolan has finally managed to ‘out-Nolan’ himself: the palindromic plot, whilst creatively ambitious, is simply far too complicated for its own good. Black Box is overlong, overstuffed, pretentious and too exhausting to comprehend in its entirety — it makes Inception and Black Box look like Peppa Pig by comparison. I’m aware of the technical wizardry and creative mastery in this film and lord knows I’ll have to watch this again. For those who want a puzzle, Black Box at least provides a unique cinematic experience. But to actually enjoy solving it Nolan wants you to work very very hard.

[missameliep]

WIP Wednesday - 07/22/2020

Hi, everyone!

I’m currently working on the next 2 parts of the series “Is This Love?” (Desire and Decorum). There might be a small epilogue after those. Let’s see how my muse behaves… Speaking of which, my muse is uncooperative and refuses to work on demand, besides editing the next chapter of the series “Second Chances” (Desire and Decorum - Modern AU), I’m working on later chapters when the group spends a weekend at Edgewater manor. Drinking games, drunken Elizabeth, forbidden kisses... the muse is all about that right now!

Bellow the cut are three sneak peeks from both series. I hope you enjoy!

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just let me know.

Part 3

“Perhaps you should sit over there and read for me. To prove my assumption is wrong.”

“Why would I be willing to prove anything to you, Mr. Dunne?”

Her question was answered with a snorted laugh, and he inched closer. Clutching tight at the book, she tried to control the increasing urge to flee. At all costs, Elizabeth avoided being alone with members of the opposite sex, just like her mother warned her. Life’s already too hard as it is, and she’s seen more than thrice what happens when girls like her trusted the vain promises of lads. Especially the rich ones. Once their desires are satisfied, the girls are left with their crosses to bear, carrying the symbol of their sins on their arms and all the judgement over their shoulders. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t give Sean Dunne the satisfaction of fleeing like a vexed child, thus she stayed put, mustering the courage, she held her head high.

He studied her from a moment, before his arm raised and she flinched. His hand almost touched the side of her face on its way to a shelf, from which he pulled a book.

“I saw you at Wincrest Stream yesterday,” he said skimming at a random page, although his eyes kept coming back to Elizabeth’s face and cleavage. “You weren’t bathing with the others.”

.

Chapter 16

“So, how was the fancy lunch with your father?”

“Good. But quite differently from what I’ve expected. When I learned Sinclaire was joining us, I asked Hamid to come –”

“Sinclaire?” Briar’s eyes widened and her jaw almost dropped to the floor. “As in Ernest Sinclaire? From UK’s twelfth largest law firm? Fifth most eligible bachelor at England? That Sinclaire?”

“I don’t want to sound rude... But that’s kinda creepy.”

“Why? We rank everything!”

“I meant you knowing all of that… you sounded like a stalker.”

“Some people follow sports, I follow celebrities.”

 .

Later chapter

“Your turn, Marlcaster.”

Meeting Annabelle’s eyes, he scratched his chin and said after a long consideration, “Never have I ever tattooed my body.”

The corners of his lips turned up in a satisfied grin when Annabelle drank first, followed by Briar and Luke. After a little hesitation, Elizabeth took the glass to her lips and his jaw dropped at the sight.

“You? You have a tattoo?”

“I actually have two,” Elizabeth replied, an unconcealable pride on her voice.

Her stepbrother’s blue eyes widened even more. “Lady grandmother will have a stroke if she finds out!”

“Since they’re very well concealed, she won’t find out, unless one of you tell her, which I hope you won’t.”

“I can testify they’re absolutely hidden from sight!” Hamid said causally, and part of the group erupted in oohs and cheers.

“Dude!” Elizabeth squealed raising her hands.

“I’m complimenting you for doing an outstanding job hiding them. I saw you on your bathing suit and there was no visible sign of tattoos. Not that I was checking for tattoos, but...” A mischievous grin parted his lips. “Anyway, good job!”

Annabelle chuckled watching Edmund mutter under his breath and gulp the entire content of his glass, and decided to interrupt the gushing about the tattoos, “Alright, we get it. Liz's got tattoos and Hamid’s thirst... Luke you’re next.”

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. A window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Hello my lovelies!! Part 3 sees a whole lot Amelia's beautiful brain & you get your first slice of interaction with the british boys - leading up to an all important Mykonos adventure (part 4 - out friday). As usual, please let me know your thoughts and feelings, and let me know what you want to see happen with Amelia and her story! Updates have increased to 3/week! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am!

Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 3. | parte terza

warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.

word count; 2081

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 30/07 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

It was the day after the final match and Amelia should be nursing a hangover due to the large amount of red wine she consumed with her Italian counterparts the night before. However, she finds herself at St. George’s Park before 9am, meeting one of her father’s colleagues who directs her to the recreation room that she remembers from a few days prior.

Standing outside the door, she assumed she was just waiting for her dad as agreed on the phone an hour earlier. As she was waiting, she could hear Gareth Southgate give a team talk to the players, praising them for their ability and pleading for them to bounce back from this defeat and use it to push on. The next voice she could hear was that of her father, giving them the tactical run through of the game. She listened to the points her father made, and both agreed and disagreed with some. Unexpectedly, the man sent to collect her opened the door and ushered her inside.

She stood at the back of the room, facing her dad and Gareth, whilst the team and other management staff had their backs to her. Making eye contact with her dad, he smiled slightly.

“Whilst I can offer you my opinion on the match last night, to better prepare you for the next time, there is no better opinion to learn from at this moment than that of your opponent. Amelia, would you please come up here” Dean really threw her into this situation, that again, she was not prepared for nor did she want to participate in. However, the 30+ sets of eyes that had currently turned around to stare at her didn’t exactly inspire a choice to be made here.

_____________________________________________________________

“Lads, this is my daughter. I taught her everything she knows, which was probably too much considering I can now recognise that it was her signature plays that the italian side used to their advantage last night. Treat her with respect, or I will let her at you. Which i’m sure you all saw a few nights ago in this very room” My dad spoke as I walked up to the front area, weaving in and around beanbags with players occupying them.

Standing in front of the Three Lions was more nerve wracking now than it had been when she was confronting her brother, maybe Fede did offer her protection as his bodyguard. Either way, she put her big girl pants on (figuratively speaking, literally she was wearing her official puma tights and Italian polo) and got on with it as if she was speaking to her team.

“Thanks Dad. Hey guys, I think the first thing I would like to say is that you’re allowed to feel exactly how you feel right now. There is no rush to ‘get over it’ or ‘push on and learn’. You need to feel this now, feel it throughout your body, understand the pain and then turn it into motivation.” I speak to the group, trying to accurately express how sincere I am to this group of heartbroken men.

“As for tactics, I can stand here and praise you for how good you really are but that's not how you are going to learn. You came into the game hard and fast.” I paused, understanding the innuendo just as it was flying out of my mouth. I pursed my lips and tried to hold my giggle in, however some of the boys seem to have the same sense of humour as I do. My brother, face of steel and eyes that burn into any man that tries to joke with me.

“Sorry, can’t help myself. So yeah, you took charge of the game from kick off and we were not ready. You had the aggression and desire to push from the start and that's what you did, Shaw, you really surprised me with that goal. Not because I didn't think you could do it but because I wasn’t anticipating you being someone we had to watch so closely.”

“Again, something you guys need to keep in mind is that it is literally my job to know everything about you and how you play the game, what foot you prefer, who you pass to, how long you hold the ball before you pass, do you like to assist or score...all of these things make a massive difference in each play we make.”

“The error you made came around the 25th minute of the game, we had settled into the game and did what we do best - we slowed you down. In Italy, in the Serie A, which is where most of my team play, the game is a lot slower. There is more skill and tactic used to ensure a favourable outcome. Again, i'm not saying you all don’t have skill, but the Prem favours pace over tactics and strategy. The only way we were going to be able to win was by making you play our game, but in your half of the pitch.”

At this point, all of their eyes are trained to me and the more senior players of the team, like Henderson, Walker, Coady, Kane, they understand what i’m trying to say. Gareth, my dad and other members of staff are sitting to one side, arms folded and a slight smile on their face at the simplicity of my approach to such an important game. I direct my next question to them.

“Can I ask - have you already selected your man of the match?”

“Off record, yes we have. Before I announce to the team who it is, can I direct the question back to you and find out who you would award it to?” Gareth poses back to me, interested to hear my opinion.

“While the obvious choices would be Kane, Sterling, Maguire - your players who perform week in week out and are consistent and no doubt deserve an award as such. I would recommend Declan Rice. Personally, he was the most instrumental in the match last night. Every time we turned to attack, he was there to stop it. He was a player I was confident that I knew the extent of his ability, when it was obvious that I didn't.”

The boys around him, Mason Mount & Ben Chilwell, offered him a gentle shove and ruffle of the hair, to show their encouragement to the bashful boy who seemed surprised at the praise he was receiving.

“The other player that I think deserves a bit of a shoutout, and not because of his hair, is Jack Grealish.” I spoke, looking around the room until we locked eyes. I wanted him to understand how serious i was about my next words.

“You are so dangerous on the ball, you are an asset as a team mate, you aren’t guilty with the ball, but you have the power behind you to score when the opportunity presents itself. The moment you were subbed on I pulled Jorginho to the side and told him to treat you like Chiellini and Bonnucci were handling Sterling and Kane. You were one of my players to watch, and for good reason”

At the end of the little session, I said thanks to the boys for listening and that I hope to see them again in a tournament. The only way to be the best is to beat the best. After a quick round of applause that made me feel more special than I am, I walked past my brother, gave him a quick ruffle of his hair and met my dad at the back. Gareth dismissed the boys and they all stood up, breaking away and grabbing some breakfast that was set up to the side of the room, for one last team meal.

“Mills!! I’ll get you an almond croissant and a coffee, come sit with me!” Walker shouted from across the room.

“Oi mate, she’s my sister not yours” Ben counters from the back of the line.

“Yeah she's your sister by blood, mine by choice.” Kyle firmly states and begins his way to one of the tables.

“I suppose i better join Kyle before he drowns everyone in his tears” i joked with the england officials i was standing with before walking over to Kyle and a few of his team mates.

“Sooo am I supposed to pretend I don’t know who you all are so you can introduce yourselves? Or do we just mutually agree that I know too much about each of you and not bring it up?” I question the boys, jokingly. They all laugh and I sit down in the space Kyle left between himself and John Stones. I sat there and got to know some of the boys on a less competitive level, working out who was a leader both on the pitch and off it. After listening to the boys joke around and just be mates, rather than teammates, I leaned over to Kyle.

“Hey, before I go, do you think you can introduce me to Bukayo? I want to speak with him for a moment.”

“Yeah sure, I'll take you over there. Why are you nervous? You've never been shy before” Kyle questioned back at me.

“I’m not nervous, I'm just hyper aware of the sensitivity of the moment. Last night would have been tough”

Saying goodbye to the boys, Kyle directed me over to a table that was sitting my brother Ben White, Kalvin, Ben Chilwell, Grealish, Saka, Sancho & Rashford.

“Hey boys, Ben, I just wanted to come say goodbye before I head off.” I directed towards my brother. He pulled up a chair and asked me to sit for 5 more minutes, claiming he deserved it after months of no contact.

“Ben here didn’t let us know he had a sister as smart as you...what happened to you Ben? Did you miss that gene?” Jack Grealish poked at my brother. With his signature scowl on his face, Ben White let his mates laugh at his expense.

“Oh don’t make fun of my brother Benny, that’s my job!” I joked back, setting the boys off again with my brother’s childhood nickname. It was nice to hear some laughter again from a side that looked so solemn the night before.

“No in all seriousness boys, I especially came over because I wanted to talk to you Bukayo - what you did was so impressive. In a final, as the last penalty taker, to take on the responsibility of the nation at the age of 19! Not many players would dare to do that. You have earned a lot of respect, particularly from the Italian camp.” I spoke with a smile on my face, directed at the young boy.

“The same goes for you two” Now looking at Sancho & Rashford.

Bukayo looked down at his hands & smiled, before getting up and walking to my side of the table. Anticipating what he was going to do next, I stood up and welcomed him with open arms. Grateful that he understood my message and was beginning to accept the praise he so deserved. Stepping back from the hug, I turned to address the group of lads one more time.

“If any of you fancy a change of pace and want to come over to the Serie A, just give me a call - Benny can give you my number!” I start to speak, before I'm cut off but my brother.

“Stop poaching my mates! I’ve already lost you to another country. I don't need to lose anyone else” He jokingly says while standing to walk me out of St. George’s Park. I know it was a joke but I can't help but think there was some truth to that.

It had been more than 3 years since I moved out of our family home to start my life in Turin, and not one moment had i regretted it or thought i made the wrong decision. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wished I was closer to my family, but I know I had to make that move to prove to myself I am just as successful as I hoped I would be. Not saying I have learnt everything there is to learn with the Serie A giants, Juventus, but maybe it's time for a new challenge? Maybe I can bring the strategic spin on the game to the fast paced action of the premier league?

Part 4. | quarta parte

[ohmightydevviepuu]

hello love (a silent kiss from a wish) / part two for CS January Joy day 24

hello love (a silent kiss from a wish) part two of two PART ONE | AO3

When Elsa admitted that she had no control over the ice swirling around and seeping into Emma’s bloodstream, Emma knew fear unlike any she’d experienced yet.

She just--she wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay. And that they would all live, happily ever after.

(She was barely conscious and did not see the glow of the wishing star in the ice underneath her.)

--

or, after the Ice Wall, Emma comes face-to-face with some facts about her future.  (time travel/time swap/time slip)

--

for @shireness-says​, who makes very reasonable demands for @distant-rose​, wishing you a very merry unbirthday today and all days

for @thisonesatellite​ and @profdanglaisstuff​, always and @optomisticgirl​, who needs to answer for the unholy amount of criminal minds i watched while editing this

for the 2020 @csjanuaryjoy​, thank you!

@kmomof4​ @shardminds​ @carpedzem​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @mariakov81​ @katie-dub​ @stahlop​ @winterbaby89​ @mahstatins​

AO3

--

ten.

Hook needed a minute before he followed Emma’s voice down the stairs and into the kitchen. The clothing felt different; he was less familiar with the buttons and the buckles and the zips and it was an easier adjustment to make than taking in everything around him.

She had to call for him again before he took a breath and walked downstairs.

Emma’s back was to him while she busied herself at the stove. She still wore her sleeping shirt, offering a tantalizing view of bare legs, and a tattered black dressing gown that looked very much like the one provided him by the Widow Lucas. He’d worn it, he was sure, just yesterday.

It looked better on her.

“That doesn’t seem like yours, love,” Hook said, coming up behind her.

“You know how it is, Hook,” she said, teasing. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Swan,” he said, “but I’m a pirate. Never been much for laws, meself.”

Emma laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just--you’ll understand someday why that’s funny. I promise.

He chuckled. Emma turned, smiling at him over her shoulder. Her smile was still contagious, and this, this--

If this was his future, his wife teasing him with that smile after he woke up in the bed they shared, he could get used to this. This was a future worth waiting for, worth fighting for; a happy ending.

Hook could feel an answering grin on his face as he said, “Something smells delicious.”

Emma laughed, delighted. “Yeah?” she said. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Why, Swan,” Hook drawled, “I meant the pancakes, of course.”

“They’re from a box,” she said, flipping one in the air. “Ass.” But she was still smiling.

“But you must admit, it’s a very nice ass.”

“Take that ass and go sit in your chair and wait for your breakfast,” she said, pointing at a dining table with her cooking utensil. Hook laughed--there was his Emma Swan: the one he knew, the one with the too-rare smiles, the one who gave as good as she got or even better.

He, Killian Jones, Captain Hook, lived in a house with Emma Swan that had a dining table, where they sat and took meals together. Like a family.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” she called from the stove, and Hook tensed. “Because pancakes are literally the only thing I can cook. Henry won’t even let me scramble eggs anymore.”

Hook exhaled. “And where is the lad?”

“He’s with Regina,” Emma said. She carried a plate stacked high with pancakes to the table, and sat down. It was strange, or maybe even impossible, but when she came near him, Hook felt--better.

He didn’t eat the pancakes. He watched her.

“You’re watching me,” she said.

“Aye,” he admitted.

“You know, you still do that,” she said. “Now, I mean. In this time.”

“I can’t imagine I would ever get tired of it,” Hook said, and Emma wrapped her hand around his hook. His hook. “You’re beautiful, love.”

She tried to hide it, but there was a pleased grin on her face as she turned back to her breakfast.

 eleven.

They still made a good team.

She finished her pancakes, and he helped her clear the table. She rinsed the dishes, and he set them to dry, and all the while, Hook couldn’t stop himself watching her. She did look different, he decided. There was silver in her hair, and very faint lines about her eyes--perhaps from smiling, Hook realized. Perhaps he had helped put those lines there. Her face, her entire person, seemed fuller, somehow. There was an ease in her posture and she moved differently.

Emma made herself a cup of hot chocolate. “So,” she said, cradling it in her hands as she sat on the couch. “I have a confession to make.”

“Most women--”

“Do not even start that shit with me, Hook.” She batted playfully at his arm. “I know all of your lines.”

“Did any of them work?” he asked, raising his eyebrows dramatically. “That is, aside from the obvious.” Hook held up his hand, and she took it in hers.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “They worked. They maybe, kinda worked too well?”

“Are you asking me?” Hook said.

“I think I know what happened,” she said. “With the whole--time-displacement-thing. Why you woke up here, in the future. I think I might have done something.”

“So we’ll undo it,” Hook said. He was confident.

“God, I love that about you,” she said. “The way you just always--” She gestured, eloquently, but didn’t finish. “And after all of the shit we’ve seen, you still just--”

Emma looked away, seemingly overcome, but this Emma was something Hook knew how to deal with. So he said nothing, letting her gather her thoughts again, letting the silence lengthen as she sipped her beverage.

“I’m a survivor, Swan,” he said, a quiet offering into the stillness. She smiled, a faint thing, but it was there. “And I choose to align my course with yours. It has yet to send me astray.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, the smile fading.

“Though I’m guessing it isn’t always fair winds and sunny skies,” Hook said. “This morning, when you--I take it that’s not the first time it’s happened?”

She shook her head. “Still a perceptive pirate,” she muttered.

“Do I--does it happen often? The nightmares?”

“Sometimes,” Emma admitted. “And then sometimes, it’s my turn. Archie says it’s--” She stopped again, biting her lip.

“You can tell me,” Hook said.

“I can tell you anything,” Emma said, squeezing the hand she still held. “But I shouldn’t tell you this.”

“You and I both know, to our peril, the danger of interfering with a timeline,” Hook agreed. He released her and placed his hand against his stomach. “Something to do with this, I take it?”

It was an ugly scar, as though he had been run through with a blade of some kind, and it occurred to Hook to wonder how he possibly could have survived such a thing.

She nodded. “Not my finest hour.”

Hook stared. Surely she did not mean--

“You did this?”

She shrugged, looking suddenly faint. “You asked me to.” Emma put her hand against her forehead, then dropped it against her mouth. “Excuse me,” she said abruptly. “I think I’m going to--”

He barely had time to take the mug from her hands before she was standing, rushing toward the bathroom.

 twelve.

Emma was in the courtyard, outside the diner, and Killian stood on the steps and watched her.

He still loved to watch her. She was frustrated and overwhelmed and pacing, her arms wrapped around herself. She walked back and forth, between the table where she had kissed him for the first time after Neverland--mere days ago, in this time--nearly falling off of her chair in their need to pull themselves closer together; and the table where she had, just a few weeks ago, told him he was going to be--

“This is insane,” Emma said.

The table over there, in the corner, where he and Henry had been caught teaching Neal how to play, and to cheat, at dice before pulling Dave in for a round of poker that had become a regular habit.

Killian and Snow were usually the biggest winners--but then again, both of them cheated. Emma tended to roll her eyes and let them win, except when she was in the mood to prove a point, but Dave got flustered every time, which just added to the fun.

“We should tell someone,” Emma was muttering. “There is an actual metric fuckton of magic in this stinking town and someone here should be able to help us--”

Everywhere he looked, his life was laid bare before his eyes, and the woman who had helped make that life possible was talking to herself in the midst of yet another crisis. Killian could see it on her face as she ran through the possibilities he himself had already considered, discarding each one as useless just as he had done.

But Killian had figured it out, he had remembered.

He stepped down to meet her, grasping her arm with his hook to turn her around. “Swan,” he said, forcing her to look at him. “It’s fine, love, we just--”

“It’s not fine,” she said. “What, exactly, are we going to do about this, Marty McFly? Tell me, since you’ve seen it all before, how we’re going to get him back--and how we’re going to send you back to the future?” Emma exhaled an agitated breath, pushing her hair out of her eyes with her palm. “It’s never fine.”

She wasn’t speaking only of their current predicament, he knew.

“It is,” he insisted. “I know it feels overwhelming, like you haven’t had a breath, and I’m not saying that it gets easier--”

“Then what are you saying?” Her eyes flared. “You standing here is freaking proof of exactly how not-fine it is.”

“On the contrary, Swan--”

“What, then?” She looked so--defeated, and Killian felt his heart constrict in his chest. He needed her to understand, he needed her to realize.

“I’m saying that the best way--the only way--out is always through, Swan,” Killian said. “I’m saying that the only way through is to learn to appreciate the quiet moments.”

“That’s what you always say,” Emma said. “But, Killian, I can’t--”

He knew. I can’t lose you, that’s what she always said.

“I know,” he said. “Swan, I know. But I’m a survivor, just like you.” He pushed her hair off of her shoulder and gave her a small smile.

“How do you do that?” she asked. “Ever since you turned around that stupid boat, you’ve just--you--”

“You and I, love, we always fight for each other,” he said. “That’s what you and I have chosen--not to be together in spite of all that we have endured, but to support and love each other because of it.”

He was pushing her, Killian knew it; he was pushing her too hard and too fast with too much, but he needed her to hear it. When she exhaled, her breathing was unsteady, and Killian braced himself.

This was the part where she ran. This was always the part where she ran. This Emma, in this time--he may just have cost them--both of them, all of them--everything. If she shut down now, if she--

She surprised him.

Emma Swan was always surprising him.

She took a step toward him and rested her head against his shoulder, and he tensed for an instant--the weight of her was so familiar--before Killian put his hand in her hair. “I’m sorry, Swan,” he said. “I didn’t mean to--I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You shouldn’t have,” she whispered into his shoulder. “But I’m glad you did.” Killian held her, feeling the movement of her as she got her breathing back under control, as he matched his rhythm to hers.

“Also,” he said, “it’s a ship. I’m tired of reminding you.” He said it quietly, but lightly, deliberately breaking the mood.

“Can we just--” Emma said, stepping away, pulling her arms around herself again, reasserting her personal space. “Let’s just figure out what happened, okay? So we can fix it?”

“Aye, Swan,” he said. “As it happens, I’m a bit ahead of you there. You see, I know what happened.”

 thirteen.

Hook could hear her in the bathroom. She hadn’t closed the door all the way, and she was retching, repeatedly and violently. Hook wondered what he would normally do in this situation, if he should help her in some way, especially when she’d seemed so upset.

He distracted himself by taking in his surroundings, but--

It had been a long time since he had cause to worry about the well-being of anyone else, and he had found that he liked it, on the rare occasions when his Emma allowed it. He knew they shared something, some understanding that let him be the one she could turn to when no one else could get through to her, but to see the physical manifestation of that all around him, in the band on his finger, in the pictures that even in this living area dominated every surface, was an entirely new kind of feeling. There were books on every shelf, histories and biographies, editions in Greek and Latin that he knew were from his collection on the Jolly Roger, a battered copy of something called The Stars, which appeared to have maps of this realm’s constellations and a Storybrooke Public Library stamp on its interior. His journals, bound in leather, so many years’ worth, stacked neatly against reference manuals for what appeared to be criminal investigative procedures, shelved in between large books full of recipes.

A telescope stood in the corner. When Hook looked through it, he could see the harbor, and the familiar masts of the ship that had been his home for more than two centuries; but it had never been home in the way that this place already felt like it was. This was not a life predicated upon survival only--this was about living, about enjoying the moments. This was a life they had clearly chosen and built together, and the home they had chosen to do it in.

Hook knew that it was more than their possessions, gathered and curated. It was Emma. She was his home. He’d known that since the day he’d left her at the town line in her little yellow vessel her with son, and watched her--them--for what he thought would be the last time.

There was a flushing sound, and Hook heard the water running in the sink just as Emma’s talking phone began to ring.

“Swan?” Hook called.

“Yeah, I hear it,” she called back, stepping past him to take up the device and answer it. “Dad?”

Emma rolled her eyes at him, whispering the word sorry, and started to sway back and forth on her feet as she waited for her father to stop for breath. “Dad, it’s fine, we’re fine,” she said. He worries, she whispered.

Hook smiled. That was a fact with which he was intimately familiar.

“No,” she said, “look, yeah, I know we’re late, something came up--”

There was another stream of barely-audible chatter over the phone as Charming got himself going again.

“Dad,” Emma said, her voice firm, “do not come here, or I swear to you I will put another barrier spell up around the door.” There was another pause and more chatter. “Whatever,” she said. “You and mom like tacos--Killian and I like pancakes.”

The prince’s voice was almost loud enough for Hook to make words out now--and even more agitated.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling, “Killian’s fine, I’m fine, I promise, we are all fine.”

More chatter, quieter and calmer this time.

“Yeah,” Emma said again. “Yeah, ok. Ok. Talk to you later. Ok. Love you too.”

She ended her conversation and threw the device at the couch. “Right,” she said, directing her focus back at Hook. She smoothed a hand over her hair.

“Swan,” he said, “are you sure you’re well?” He was worried he’d upset her, somehow.

Emma smiled, surprising him, since she still looked rather green about the gills. “Better than I’ve ever been,” she said. “I promise. So, I have a proposition for you. What do you say we get out of here, go for a walk or whatever, enjoy the ‘quiet moments’,” she made an exaggerated gesture with her fingers. “We’ll talk more.”

“Aye, Swan,” he said. “Let’s sail away.”

 fourteen.

“Have you ever had a dream,” Killian began, “where it felt so real that you could not be sure if it was actually a memory?” He clenched his hand into a fist and forced himself to relax it again. “Where you felt it, deep inside of you, and it felt true, but you couldn’t make sense of it, so you convinced yourself it was just your imagination?”

They had walked, by silent but mutual accord, to the park, though Killian steered clear of the small lake that should not have been deep enough to accommodate the draught of Charon’s boat. Sometimes, in the light of the full moon, he imagined he could see the ferryman--that he could feel the Darkness pulling at his soul and the Underworld attempting to reassert its claim upon him. It was on those nights that he found himself volunteering to stay up with Dorothy to watch Ruby, unable to stay home and in his bed with his wife when he felt--everything--rushing through him.

Emma’s moods were less predictable, but on her bad nights he always knew where he’d find her: half asleep with her back pressed against the basement door. Those were the mornings when one or both of them would phone the cricket.

Emma, perhaps sensing his discomfort--though not understanding its origin--took him to one of the benches on the far side of the park.

“I guess,” Emma said, shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

Killian scrubbed his hand down his face, trying to cobble together the details of what she had told him, the other Emma Swan, his wife, his True Love, when she had spent this day with his other self.

“Is that...what this is?”

“Aye,” Killian said. “Only I’ve just realized, it wasn’t a dream at all. It was real.” He repeated it, almost to himself. “It was all real.” His half-forgotten dream was the reality he woke up to every day.

“What are you saying, Hook?”

Perhaps he had not been able to let himself believe in it before now.

“I don’t have any memories of this day, Swan,” he said. “Waking up in the loft, seeing you after your ordeal--none of it. But I do have memories of spending the day with you.”

“In the future?”

“Aye,” Killian said again. What he remembered--it was just a feeling. The rings, on his finger and hers, and around her neck. Warmth and light and love and hope and family.

“Did you happen to make any wishes in the ice cave last night, love?”

“No,” Emma said immediately. “No, of course not--oh.”

Killian snorted.

“Oh, shit,” she said.

“Tell me if this sounds familiar,” he said. “It’s very cold, colder than you’ve ever been, and as you begin to pass out, you--”

“--wished that I knew everything would turn out okay,” Emma finished. She appeared stunned. “That we would all live happily ever after.”

“Exactly so,” he said. “And here I sit.” He bowed his head.

“That’s...heavy,” she said.

“Weight has nothing to do with it,” Killian said, and winked. The itch was back in his fingertips, the need to touch her, and Killian resisted it.

“Netflix and chill, huh?” Emma put her hand on his thigh.

“Your idea, Swan,” he said. “Not mine.” Nights on their couch--so many nights, takeout containers from the diner strewn across the small table--and Henry had started actively avoiding them whenever she opened a conversation with “Wanna go home and see what’s on Netflix?”

He put his hand over hers.

“Do I change my name?” she asked suddenly.

“Your--” Killian blinked. “Your name? Why, love?”

“When we get married,” she said, tracing the ring on his fourth finger. “It’s a custom here, like, in this realm, but I’ve never considered myself to be the type.” She smiled at him, at his bemusement. “You keep fiddling with this, as if it doesn’t fit, or doesn’t belong. But I’ve literally never seen you without it.”

Killian turned his hand so that their fingers laced together. “Aye,” he said. “It’s true, Swan, I have another ring I prefer to wear these days.”

“I’m actually pretty good at my job, you know,” she said with another smile. “Observational skills and all of that.”

“I’ve never doubted it,” he said seriously.

 fifteen.

She transported them by magic to the deck of the Jolly Roger, and Hook wasn’t sure which surprised him more: to be on her decks again, or to see Swan so at ease in her abilities.

Emma didn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s just--I learned the hard way, on a really steep curve,” she said, and Hook’s hand went hesitantly back to the scar on his side, her eyes following his movements. Perhaps she had healed him. “Yeah,” she said, apparently understanding his unspoken question. “I mean, not, like, exactly, but--yeah.”

He tried--and failed--to imagine what it would have taken to heal such a wound. Her face revealed nothing. “You’re not the only one with stories you’d prefer to keep buried, love,” Hook said, tracing the symbols he’d carved into the wood of the ship’s helm: P and S, and the marks he’d gouged with his hook after Baelfire had left.

“Did you miss her?” Emma asked, changing the subject. Hook shrugged, noncommittal. It had taken him weeks to re-adjust to being on terra firma, to lose the vague feeling of landsickness after so many years spent out on the water, but he’d spent so long on that ship locked in with his vengeance and his hate. Barracking at the inn with Mrs. Lucas in the little room with its bare walls--it was almost like having a clean slate, and Hook was certain that it was more than he deserved. It had been the right thing, giving up his ship, and he’d never looked back.

“I know what you did,” she said, as if he had answered her. “To Ariel, and to Ursula, and I know how you took back the Jolly Roger--which, by the way, you fucked that up too, a little bit. But you made it right in the end, because that’s you do. That’s kind of man that you are.”

Emma smiled, and for the first time since he had woken up that morning, Hook found himself unable to meet her gaze.

"How is it," he said, "that you--"  He paused, pulling at his ear.

"See the best in you?" Emma finished.  "I choose to, Hook.  Every day.  And you've never let me down."

Hook had never been speechless before.

“You said you wanted to talk,” she reminded him. “But you don’t seem to have much to say. You haven’t even asked me any questions.”

“I’m not sure that I intend to,” he said.

“I know,” she said, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. She chuckled in response to his raised eyebrow and said, “Oh, yeah--open book definitely goes both ways. You and I, we tell each other everything. It’s kind of like a rule.”

“I’m a pirate, Swan,” he said. “We’ve already discussed my affinity for rules.”

“Call it another thing we had to learn the hard way,” Emma said. Her voice was gentle. “And I know why you’re afraid to ask--about the ship, or, you know, everything. I know what you’re afraid of.”

Hook wasn’t afraid. He was terrified, of losing it, losing all of this, before he even had it.

“I know why you ended up here with me--with this me, in the future,” Emma said. Her head dropped as she settled in against his shoulder. “I made a wish, Killian.”

“You wished for me to be here?”

“In the ice cave,” she said, “It was so cold, you know? Colder than I’ve ever been, and I could hear my dad--I could hear you--and I wanted to know that everything would be ok. That we would all live happily ever after. And I woke up and I found this version of you who was--”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“--so much the man I already knew,” she said, rolling her eyes and talking over him. “I saw that it was real, and that I hadn’t been wrong about you.”

“And I ended up here,” Hook said. It was both a statement and a question.

“I think--” Emma bit her lip. “I think you needed to see it just as much as I did. To see that it could exist, that I could be better--that we could be better, together.”

His conversation with the queen on this very deck still haunted him: Villains don’t get happy endings. Hook stepped away so suddenly that Emma nearly fell. He grasped her bicep and turned her to face him and his breath was unsteady as he said, “How can you possibly know that?”

Emma reached for his forehead, pushing his hair out of his face and combing her fingers through it. “This is True Love,” she said. “You think this happens every day?”

Hook inhaled a shaky breath. He lifted his hand to take hers and leaned his forehead down so that their noses were nearly touching. “Swan,” he said, “you know I can tell when you’re quoting something.”

Emma laughed, and he loved the feel of it, the warmth, against his skin. “And I love that you never know what it is.”

“True Love?” he said, pulling back to look at her. “Emma, I know you care for me, but--”

“True Love,” she insisted. “Capital ‘T’, capital ‘L’, babe.”

They stood like that, locked together, taking comfort from each other as the familiar creak of the old boards against his feet was like a soothing balm against his soul.

True Love. That was the rarest magic of all.

“What now, Swan?” Hook asked.

 sixteen.

“So--” Emma asked. “What now?”

“We wait,” Killian said.

“Yeah,” Emma said. “I’m not great with waiting.”

Killian laughed. “A fact which, I assure you, has not escaped my attention,” he said, bumping his leg against hers. “I am, as you are aware, quite perceptive.”

“Didn’t answer my question, though,” Emma said.

He knew. But waiting was the answer, and Killian wanted to enjoy his time with her.

“We have our wits,” Killian said. “Let’s focus on being productive.”

“Ugh.” Emma snorted. “Are you always this cheesy? Like, in the future?”

She was still holding his hand. He squeezed it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She squeezed back. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe I would.” Emma leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder. Killian lowered his until his cheek just brushed against her hair--and there it was, the smell that was Emma. He inhaled, deeply, and it felt like home.

“So this won’t change anything, will it?” Emma said. “I mean, you’ve told me some things, but--if all of this has already happened, nothing should change, right?”

“I don’t believe so,” he said. Then, after a moment: “I hope not.”

“But we won’t remember,” Emma said. “Not consciously.”

“When I leave,” Killian said, “everything will be just as you remember it; your life will carry on exactly as it did. But this day--it happened, love. And you’ll always know that, deep down, just as I did.”

“So there’s nothing you would change?” Emma asked. “It’s all, what, sunshine and rainbows and everything is perfect?”

“It’s none of those things,” he said quietly. She sat up, and started to pull her hand away, but he held on tightly. “It’s life, Swan. It’s messy and complicated. And some of the things that you--that we--have survived to make it this far are terrible.”

“So why--” she said. “How can you not want to change that? To make it better?”

Killian shook his head. He thought of all of the things he had seen--all of the things yet to come to pass, to be lived, for both of them. The Darkness that had broken them almost beyond repair; breaking them so much that they should never have been able to forgive themselves, or each other, for what had happened, except that they had chosen to--chosen to piece themselves back together, their broken bits that somehow fit perfectly--and for a long moment, or an eternity, Killian had no words.

It wasn’t sunshine and rainbows. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and complicated and wonderful.

It was--every day, sometimes every moment--a challenge. But after all of these years, and everything he had seen and done and survived, he still loved a challenge.

Especially a challenge like Emma Swan.

“I could never take the risk, don’t you see?” Killian said. “I could never take the risk that I might lose you, or our future. The fact that we make it through everything to come, and we do it together, is worth fighting for.”

They had all the time in the world.

“Killian,” Emma said, tears in her eyes.

“It’s not easy,” he said. “You and I, we were tested very harshly by fate, and by the whims of the gods. But we choose each other, always. That’s what it means to be True Love.”

She started to pull away again, and Killian cursed. He definitely should not have said that. He let her go, watched her stand up, and turn away, and turn back again, before she repeated, disbelief radiating from every syllable: “True Love? Like, capital ‘T’, capital ‘L’ true love?”

“Aye,” he whispered.

 seventeen.

Hook felt her words as if they were actually settling onto his heart, imprinting there; her arms braced against his were an anchor in the chaos. He felt unshakable--and so, so shaken. The future was an unknown, something untested and untouchable and for the first time in more years than he cared to count he felt as though he might actually have a future.

Like something within him had shifted.

“I have to send you back,” she said, and there was sadness in her eyes and in her voice. He felt warm everywhere she touched him, but his mind was too full to notice, too full of this world she--he--they lived in. Together. Looking at her, feeling her against him, was like breathing in the sun. Only she wasn’t--this wasn’t--his Emma Swan.

“She loves you already, you know,” Emma said, rubbing his arm with her hand, running her fingers through his hair. “That night, the night in the ice wall, that’s when she knew, and it terrified her.”

His Emma Swan with her mile-high walls and his indefatigable quest to persuade her to lower them, to let him in.

“She’s not a little lost girl anymore,” Emma said. “She finds herself in you. It’s you, Killian. That’s her happy ending, the way you find yourselves in each other.”

He wanted that, he wanted to be the one who helped her break them down, brick by brick, and to meet the woman who lived inside.

“Be patient with her, Killian.”

Hook closed his eyes. “Will I remember any of this?” he asked.

She didn’t answer him. “Do you trust me?” Emma asked instead. She put her hand on his chest, over his heart.

“I trust you,” he said. “Always.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “To the end of the world. Or time.”

Emma nodded. “I’m going to tell you something, Killian, something I learned a long time ago: you and I, we aren’t together in spite of all of this crazy, fucked-up shit we’ve seen. We’re together because of it. Because we choose to be.” She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear, “Don’t forget that, okay? Don’t stop fighting for us.”

His entire body was itching now, with the way she was pressed against the full length of him. The moment hung between them and she pulled him in even closer, and he kissed her.

He kissed her.

It was sweet and thankful, determined and resolute, and it felt like both a hello and a goodbye, and Killian felt almost torn between conflicting realities, and he wanted to reach for her. He grasped for more, desperately, sinking into the warmth of the kiss--he was hot, as silver shots of magic pulsed through his veins--

 eighteen.

The sun was getting lower in the sky and Killian sensed that their time together was growing short. He knew she would leave to go meet Elsa, to examine the ice wall more properly from the outside--it was the first clear memory he had of this day.

“You’re so much like him,” Emma said finally.

“Devilishly handsome, you mean?”

She bit her lip, as though giving consideration to every syllable she was about to utter. She opened her mouth, changed her mind, closed it, opened it again, and then said: “What about me? Am I--”

Killian stood, pulling her into an embrace. His hand went to the back of her neck and when he pressed his forehead against hers she didn’t shy away. He inhaled the scent of her, almost making himself dizzy from her shampoo and her skin and her touch.

“You’re perfect, Swan,” he whispered.

“No,” she said. “I’m not.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed. He pictured the boots in the hallway and more sugar than he could possibly imagine; the mess she left every morning in the washroom and her complete inability to cook anything but pancakes. The way she held him when he couldn’t sleep and the way she let him help her when it was her turn for nightmares and how warmth rushed through his body whenever she was near him. “But you’re perfect for me, and that’s what matters.”

“Am I easier to deal with? Can I--am I better--with, just everything? Feelings?” She let out a long breath. “I’m not ready, Killian, for all of this--I want to be, but I’m not there yet--”

“Aye, love, I know.”

“How do I ask him to--”

“He’ll wait, Swan. He’s a very patient man. He’ll--” (it wasn’t funny, but Killian laughed) “--go to hell and back for you.”

It was as if something broke within her at the words. It really was a bad joke, that, and she didn’t even know the punchline yet.

“You listen to me, Killian Jones,” Emma said sharply, her eyes flashing. “If you end up in hell, I am coming in after you and dragging your ass back to Storybrooke.” She brought her head to his shoulder again. “I’m not losing you.”

His entire body was itching now, with the way she was pressed against the entire length of him. The moment hung between them and she pulled him in even closer, and he kissed her.

He kissed her.

It was sweet and thankful, determined and resolute, and it felt like both a hello and a goodbye, and Killian felt almost torn between conflicting realities, and he wanted to reach for her. He grasped for more, desperately, sinking into the warmth of the kiss--he was hot, as silver shots of magic pulsed through his veins--

 nineteen.

Killian came to himself all at once, anchored by the familiar embrace of his wife. His wife. The feeling, the flash of magic, pushed outward, and he felt it all the way down to his toes as he kissed her, kissed her until he couldn’t think straight, kissed her as he pushed her up against the wheel and she gasped and said, “Killian?”

He rested his forehead against hers, catching his breath, pressing his palm against her abdomen. “Aye, love. Did you miss me?”

 twenty.

It was dark out, and Emma was furious.

That was a lie.

She wasn’t furious, she was terrified--which was worse, so she focused on her anger, and her target. Hook had settled himself outside of Granny’s, at the same table where she’d kissed him just days ago. He had that same look in his eyes, his fucking blue eyes--all soft and sad and waiting for her to just tell him what she wanted from him, and he would give it to her, and he took a sip of his rum and said, “Swan!”

She started to turn, but no. She was too furious. Too terrified. There was too much happening, and all of it was happening at once, which was pretty much the entire fucking story of her entire fucking life at this point, and she thought she’d gotten used to it, but something about the snow monster--or maybe it was the ice wall, or the woman who seemed to know her, or the way that Hook and David had nearly died today--

“Don’t make a man drink alone,” he said, and she could swear he pouted, and fuck literally all of that.

“Not in the mood for a drink,” she said, which was also a lie. “Or a man.” Another lie. She heard the scraping of his chair against the courtyard pavement as she walked by him and into the street.

Hook followed her. Of course he did. If there was thing she’d learned about Captain Hook--about Killian Jones--

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you today, all right?” he said, calling after her.

--it was that he would follow her past the end of the world.

She needed that, needed him--and he could have fucking died today.

“I know you feel like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Hook said, and thank you, Captain-fucking-Obvious, that’s what it meant to be the Savior, and she almost hadn’t saved him today, and--

“But at some point,” he said, his hook around her arm forcing her to turn and face him, “even though we’re quite different, you’ve got to trust me.”

Emma stopped. That’s--he thought that--? She raised her voice and it was almost an accident. Maybe it would help cover the fear she didn’t want leaching through. “That’s what you think this is about? That I don’t trust you?”

Hook looked at her, confused, his hook still around her arm. “Is that not what this is about?”

Emma wanted to laugh. Or maybe to cry.

Her parents had the baby. Her brother, Neal, and--yeah, that was going to take a lot of getting used to. Henry was worried about Regina. (So was she.) Ruby was gone. Emma had been locked in a wall of ice and the only thing that had started to make her feel warm again--safe--was the feel of his arms around her, so much so that she had made him sleep sitting up on the floor; she had let herself need him. She literally had no one else in her life she trusted as much as she trusted him right now, who she lo--”Of course I trust you!”

“Then why,” he said, his own voice rising in agitation, “do you keep pulling away from me?”

Which was--accurate. But--didn’t he see? She couldn’t--”Because everyone I’ve ever been with is dead,” she said, and Emma felt the sting of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Neal--and Graham--even Walsh.” She looked at him, at his eyes, his stupid blue eyes all soft and sad and supportive and said, “I’ve lost everyone. I--”

He waited. Emma lov--hated when he did that. How did he always do that, just--”I can’t lose you, too,” she said.

“Well, love,” he said, “you don’t have to worry about me. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”

The moment hung in the air between them.

But I’m a survivor, just like you. The words were like an echo in her head as Killian looked at her, and Emma refused to look away, and she didn’t just see it, she felt it--the moment something changed and he pulled her toward him and kissed her.

He kissed her.

[softlyjiminie]

call him | j.j.k

⇢ paring(s): jeon jungkook x reader, mentions of park jimin x reader.

⇢ word count: 3.5K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, smut, fwb!au, college!au.

⇢ summary: jungkook’s jealous, and he has an awful way of showing it.

⇢ warning(s):  please read! heavy smut, cumplay, fingering, oral ( female receiving ), spanking, exhibitionism, daddy kink, sub!reader, dom!jungkook, swearing,  unprotected sex (use protection please.), friends with benefits relationship.

⇢ author’s note(s): hey lads, it’s been a hot minute since i posted a fic but ive had this written for almost a month and i think you guys deserve it, also it’s my first time witing and posting a smut so please give me some feedback uwu, happy sinning ;) ( update: this fic has been updated and edited as of 2020 )

⇢ parts: ( here! ) ( two ) ( final )

You rushed past the dark haired male as soon as he opened the door, the fresh rainfall dampening your clothes as he locked it behind you. Your eyes fired up with desire as you stripped off your jacket, and dumped your bag by the stairs and yet all the while Jungkook remained unmoving.

“What are you doing here?” He mumbled, darkly, you noted, as he moved to stand in the doorway of his living room. Your actions paused as you pulled your lip between your teeth. Jungkook raised a brow, muscled arms crossing over his firm chest. You simply smiled at his actions, slowly walking over to the taller male with a sway in your hips. “You’re fuckin’ horny aren’t you, love?”

It was more of a statement than a question which caused your smile to widen as you slipped your arms around Jungkook’s neck, sighing when his hands slid down from over his chest to settle on your hips. “I called you...you didn’t answer. I’m stressed about my exams Ggukie, help me relax please...”

“You’re such a good girl, asking daddy nicely.” Jungkook hummed, lifting you to his waist by your thighs. Your lips met in a furious kiss, sucking one another in as your tongues clashed in a passionate dance for dominance. Squeezing your thighs, Jungkook blindly lead you to his bedroom, gently pulling away from your lips to nibble and bite and suck at your neck littering you with bruises. “Mine. You’re mine.”

You moaned out at his claim, fingers twisting in the black, obsidian locks of the boy busying himself with making a work of art out of your neck against his bedroom door. The routine was almost familiar to you, having a sort of fuck buddy relationship with Jungkook since the first semester of the year. Usually your encounters were smooth sailing, you’d call and he’d text and within an instant you were together, headboard smashing against the wall and waking your roommates.

Today, however, was different.

He was taking his time with you, teasing you as if you’d slip away. “Jungkook, please. I-I, oh god, don’t want to wait anymore...” you whined as his hips begun to slowly buck up into yours. Hot slick pooled between your thighs as he tamed you, reigning in on his control over you. “W-want you to take me...”

“Patience Y/N, you said you’re stressed...let me take care of you tonight.”

You barely had time to frown at Jungkook’s words, it wasn’t often that you went slow, especially when one of you were needy. Before you knew it, the door had finally popped open with a satisfying click and Jungkook was walking you over to the bed. You landed with a soft thump, eyes burning with desire as he removed his shirt to reveal his skin, golden like the rising sun and soft like the linen you lay on. Of course you could appreciate his abs, but like you’d told him many times before, he was beautiful... a vision to behold. Even with his fucked out eyes and pink tinted, swollen lips...Jungkook was a beauty.

Wordlessly, he crawled up the bed until your lips met once more, biting and sucking at each other until the were puffy and swollen. His hips were between your legs once more, pushing down on your clothed core with every thrust from his hips. You could feel the wetness of your heat collect in your panties and you were pretty sure Jungkook could too. His dark doe eyes clouded with lust at every whimper that surpassed your lips from every buck of his hips, his weighty length brushing against your desperate heat.

Unable to withstand the building pleasure between you, Jungkook pulled you up, tearing your shirt from your frame before discarding your leggings somewhere across the room and pushing you back down onto the bed to kiss you once more. The flame within you spread across your body like wildfire as his hands seamlessly unclipped your bra with a practised ease. “Look at your fuckin’ tits baby.” His words were slurred whilst he sucked at your lips, cool fingers coming up to play with your nipples. “Nice n perky for daddy, god I love your fuckin tits.”

The last part came out as a deep groan, his mouth latching onto your right breast causing you to arch your back into him. His heated tongue flicked over your nipple before he gently bit down on the mound of flesh, his other hand massaging your other breast. “J-jungkook! Mm-fuck!” You cried, fingers threading through his raven locks as he switched breasts.

The tug at his hair had him growling, as he finally pulled away from his assault on your chest, his eyes even darker than before. He smirked up at you drowsily, lips kissing a trail down past your navel and just above your panties. You squirmed as he neared the place were you desired him most, images of his head between your thighs, lapping away at your pussy flashing behind your unfocused eyes.

“Eyes on me, Y/N...” he teased, lips mouthing over the waistband of your panties before tearing them off with his teeth. They trailed down, as he left open mouthed kisses on your heated core and it took all your might not to clamp your thighs down on his head and have him stay between your legs forever. You jolted in your place on the bed when Jungkook strategically placed a wet kiss on your swollen clit, crying in pleasure even though he’d barely touched you. “Oh god baby, you’re s’fuckin wet for me aren’t you? So wet and I’ve not even given you my fingers, huh?”

You could feel his hot breath over your crying hole and it only heightened your need for him. “Gguk, please...w-want you s’bad.” You moaned shamelessly, desperate for any kind of attention.

But as soon as he came close to touching you, he was gone.

Opening your eyes, ready to chew one out on Jungkook, you looked up. His expression was dark, his lust for you replaced with something you couldn’t quite place but you could see in his eyes that you wouldn’t be going home without an orgasm tonight. “You know, I heard something pretty interesting about you the other day.” He started with hooded eyes, a single finger slipping under the waistband of your panties before pulling them off, to toy with its lace. “Something about you having a little...crush.”

“W-what?” You stammered breathlessly, your brain fogging with confusion and arousal as Jungkook’s cold finger came to circle your wet clit, his cool temperature sending shivers down your spine. Your hands latched onto his shoulder, sinking into his freckled skin as he worked slow circles into your nub.

“You know what I’m talking about princess,” Jungkook smiled, adding a second finger to swirl at your swollen clit. You moaned desperately as the two digits moved in synchronised movements, throwing your head back into the pillow. “You know what a crush is? Do I need to spell it out for you?” a silent scream tore in your throat as he begun to work the letters C-R-U-S-H into your sopping heat, the pleasure he was giving you just by stimulating your nub was almost enough to make you cum.

“What’s his name?” Jungkook growled as you began to grind your hips into his fingers, one of them slipping down to tease open your entrance. You shook your head, conflicted between why he had chosen now of all times to bring this up and the pleasure he was giving you. Your mouth opened with a scream as Jungkook’s digit slipped past your entrance, buried knuckle deep in your tight heat. “I won’t ask you again Y/N.”

“P-park Jimin!” You squealed as Jungkook gave an experimental thrust of his finger, you arched your back as he curled it to let it drag across your walls, rewarding you with another finger. Jungkook froze, as if he had sunken into deep thought, before he resumed his actions.

“Call him.”

You gripped his wrist in surprise as he begun to curl is fingers inside you with every thrust, stimulating that special spot. You shook your head once more, whining at the fast pace of his digits slipping in and out of your heat, lewd sounds of your arousal piercing the air.

“Do it, or I stop.” He hummed against the shell of your ear, the pace of his fingers never easing up as he handed you his phone. It was already unlocked to your surprise and you were even more surprised when you found Jimin’s number in his contact list. Jungkook smiled encouragingly as you dialled the number, kissing another pathway down to your core. “There’s a good girl...”

The phone rang about three times before there was an answer, and you didn’t miss the way Jungkook slowed his thrusts to match the ringing of the phone. “Hello?”

You bit your lip to suppress your crude moans as Jungkook’s lips sealed around your clit, sucking on the nub in a way that usually had you screaming. “J-jimin! Hi!” You stammered breathlessly into the phone, taking a deep breath to steady your shaking voice. “uh, it’s me, Y/N from your psychology class!”

You internally cursed Jungkook for adding a third finger just as you introduced yourself, wanting to close your thighs around his head and choke the cockiness out of him. Jimin’s melodious laugh wafted through the phone and you felt your heart melt and heat spread to your cheeks at the sound. “I know Y/N, we sit next to each other, how comes you’re calling from Jungkook’s phone?”

“O-oh my! F-fuck Jungkook!” The sound of his own name must have spurred him on, for Jungkook switched from fingering you to eating you out, his hot wet tongue slurping at the pool of arousal that had collected from his previous ministrations. His finger begun to flick at your clit once more, and you almost closed your thighs when his other hand came up to spread them apart, giving you a look that said ‘keep them open.’ Jimin’s faint voice from the phone reminded of the situation that you were currently in, and you blushed, hurriedly trying to think of an excuse. “I-I mean, fuck Jungkook, t-that fucker-oh!- took my phone to play games-!”

You gasped, glaring down at Jungkook, who’s face glistened with your slick after biting your thigh. The sight of him all messy with your wetness had you silently moaning as Jimin chuckled from his end of the line. “Well thats for you Gguk isn’t it?” You could hear the smile in Jimin’s voice, and you felt your arousal flare up just with the knowledge that he was completely innocent to your acts. “Did you need something though? You don’t usually call...”

The cold air between your legs told you that Jungkook had moved again, looking up from your call, you noted with a dry throat and a mind clouded with lust that he was unbuckling his belt, throwing his boxers and jeans to the floor, leaving him naked in all his glory. Your jaw went slack at the sight of his bare frame, all shame completely thrown out the window as you mewled out your approval. Even though you’d seen him open and bare, countless times before, the moment when he was completely stripped down never failed to amaze you.

Your whines grew at a higher pitch and you barely acknowledge Jimin asking if you were okay as the dark haired man before you begun to massage your thighs, pulling them open so he could take a peek at what was his. Your hands longed to grab at his supple skin, claw at his back and bite his shoulders and Jungkook only tutted at you. “K-kookie please, please lemme touch, need’ta touch you...”

“Y/N? What’s going on, is everything alright?” Jimin’s muffled voice sounded from the phone, his tone laced with worry. Jungkook chuckled, leaning down so that his chest was pressed against your breasts, causing your nipples to stand on end.

“Put him on mute baby.” Jungkook hummed, grinding his bare length against your wet, pathetic mound. You nodded, on the verge of tears at the stimulation. You still hadn’t cum yet. Pressing the mute button, you moaned aloud, gripping Jungkook’s shoulders as he slapped his cock against your sensitive clit. Your ears were immune to the worried whispers of Jimin as you desperately moved your hips in time with Jungkook. “Listen carefully to what I say princess. You’re going to tell little Jiminie how much you like him, how much you want him whilst your pretty little pussy is clenching around my cock, you got that?”

“Mm...no gguk...please no-“ you gasped, the tip of his member teasing your entrance. He looked down at you, steely determination in his eyes and you realised that if you didn’t do this, Jungkook would leave you high and dry for as long as he pleased. Heat and arousal flared up within you once more, you were impossibly turned on and if this is what you had to do for Jungkook to get you off, then so be it. You were past the stage of embarrassment now.

Reaching up, you unmuted the phone just as Jungkook began to lather is length up with the physical evidence of your arousal. The slick delicious sound had you gulping as you called out for Jimin. “J-jiminie,” you sighed the anticipation of finally having Jungkook inside you, clouding your thoughts. “Jimin- you still there?”

“Yes...” he whispered back into the phone, and it almost sounded as if he was further away. “Y/N are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I just- just wanted to tell you something important...” your breathing had become laboured at this point as Jungkook eased his girthy length into you inch by inch, his dark eyes focused on where your body’s met and you sucked him in greedily. “Jiminie-I, ohmygod! I think I like you-!”

You moaned into the phone, the device falling from your grip as Jungkook entered you fully with one single thrust. Jimin’s end of the phone went silent for what seemed like ages and his voice was barely above a whisper when he did speak. “I think I feel the same...I just never made a move because I thought you had a thing with Jungkook...”

Your heart melted at Jimin’s words, and you felt some kind of mental relief at the thought of him liking you back. You were just about to respond when Jungkook snapped his hips into yours with force, driving your frame up the bed as he fucked into you. You squealed, grasping his shoulders as his cock drilled into you with ease, thanks to the lubrication of your core.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each thrust, the pleasure and overstimulation coursing through your veins. The head of his cock caught on the walls of your, weeping pussy and you arch your back into him, breasts pressing against his chest as you clench around him. “Oh fuck, Y/N baby you feel s’good...” Jungkook lets out the choked moan before he can stop himself, dark mop of heat dropping to your neck to bite at the soft skin there. “Mine, my pussy, only mine.”

His words are slurred, and your heart and your core flutter at his possessiveness but it almost feels like he’s trying to prove a point. Jungkook’s long fingers ease down between your legs, where your body’s meet and he’s bucking into you at a brutal pace, they soon find your sensitive clit and you almost want to writhe away from the pleasure he’s giving you.

“M’ all yours Kookie, please!” You cry, sensitivity heightened and that’s when you remember Jimin on the other line. You wonder if he’s getting off at the sound of your skin slapping and the lewd sounds of your squelching pussy, the thought only arouses you more, increasing your wetness and you can’t help but moan even louder. You can’t tell if it’s for Jimin’s sake or for Jungkook’s.

“Y-Y/N... is that Jungkook?” Jimin’s voice comes out strained, and you mewl as Jungkook pulls all the way out, only to pound back into you again, rougher and faster than he was before.

The dark haired male quickly pulls a finger away from rubbing figures of eight on your clit, letting the digit slip between his lips to suck off your juices in a way that has your legs tightening around his hips. Jungkook grips the phone, mumbling something about Jimin getting on his nerves. Without a word, Jungkook pulls out of your heat and flips you over onto your stomach. He yanks your hips up so that your ass meets his cock, before slipping back in.

A hand slaps your ass as you grind back into him, craving some kind of release. “You hear that Park?” Jungkook growls, slapping your cheek again, causing you to whine, tears pooling in your eyes as you grip the sheets. “That’s the sound of your girl getting fucked, fucked so good she can’t tell what’s up or down. Now remember for the next time that you fuck her, it’ll be my cum that stains her walls and my name she’ll be moaning. Isn’t that right princess?”

“Yes Jungkook! Oh god yes! Fuck me please, wanna cum s’bad!” You moan with wanton, moving your hips in sync with his, tears blurring got vision and your mind clouded with lust. That was enough to satisfy him, for he leaned down to press slopping kisses to the slope of your back, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Later, Park.” He groaned into the phone, as he leaned back up. His pace never slowed when he hung up the phone, tossing it somewhere else on the bed. “You’re such a dirty girl, princess. Moaning like a dirty little slut for daddy when talking to your crush.” Jungkook punctuated each word with a thrust, hitting your spot each time and driving you closer towards the edge.

“M’ so close...” you cried, words slurring together as your own hips matched Jungkook’s pace. “I’m gonna cum!”

“Then do it, cum on daddy’s cock like the dirty girl you are.”

That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge, your vision blurred as a powerful orgasm ripped through you, splashing out onto Jungkook’s length. His pace didn’t let up as white flashed behind your eyes and you screamed out his name. He helped you ride out your high, slowly thrusting into you as your pussy fluttered around his girth. You milked him for all his worth, creaming around him before Jungkook pulled out with a broken moan, his white hot seed painting your ass like he was laying his claim.

He collapsed on top of you, sweaty skin sticking to yours as his softening length rubbed against you. You lay together, breath mingling for a while before Jungkook got up and grabbed a hot cloth to clean you up. All the while you stayed silent, mind racing at the events that had just occurred.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who just got their brains fucked out, could’ve sworn you were crying.” Jungkook teased with a bunny smile, arms coming up to wrap around your naked waist. You only hummed in response, allowing him to spoon you and it wasn’t long before you felt him frown against your skin. “W-was I too rough? You know you can always tell me when I am... I’ll stop-“

“You fucked me whilst on the phone to him, Kook.” You stated, blankly and unsure how to feel. You felt Jungkook freeze behind you, before he started to trace patterns on the exposed skin of your shoulder. He sighed.

“Well as far as I could tell, you were enjoying it and by the sounds of things, he was too.”

The smirk in his voice had you rolling over, eyes glistening with tears you hoped he couldn’t see. “I liked him Jungkook, I still do. And now he probably hates me, probably thinks that I was lying just to hurt his feelings. I won’t be able to look at him without feeling guilty...” 

“Fuck, you really liked him, huh?” Jungkook frowned, looking away from you, an emotion that you couldn’t quite place swirling in his eyes. You nodded silently, suddenly regretting coming over tonight. Jungkook bit his lip, looking as if he wanted to say something, when his phone vibrated from somewhere within the sheets. He scrambled to find it, pulling the screen close to his face and grimacing at the brightness when he did. “It’s for you.”

With furrowed brows, you took the device from Jungkook, eyes flicking over the text that illuminated the screen.

                                                                                                                               JIMIN: Hey Jungkook, thanks for the heads up about Y/N but I think I’ve got it covered. Tell her I’ll pick her up tomorrow at eight, assuming she’s still with you.

You felt a warm flush spread across your cheeks as you re-read the text over and over again. Your heart fluttered with joy, because Jimin still wanted to see you and liked you too. Jungkook remained quiet as you squealed over the text, his eyes raging with disappointment, for Jimin wasn’t the only one to have feelings for you.

[juhanati]

||HD.Voir|” — L’origine du monde [|2021|] Film Complet — ((“STREAMING VF”)) — En Francais │ L’origine du monde (2021) HD `Complet

Regarder L’origine du monde (2021) Film Complet en Français,Voir L’origine du monde en streaming version française directement sur Films VF . Film gratuit en streaming. L’origine du monde (2020) 10/02/2021 (FR) Comédie, Drame 1h 38m Note des utilisateurs Regarder l’aguiche On est tous passé par là.

PLAY==> http://ver.yess-movie.com/movie/tt10551904/l-origine-du-monde.html

Synopsis Jean-Louis réalise en rentrant chez lui que son coeur s’est arrêté. Plus un seul battement dans sa poitrine, aucun pouls, rien. Pourtant, il est conscient, il parle, se déplace. Est-il encore vivant ? Est-il déjà mort ? Ni son ami vétérinaire Michel, ni sa femme Valérie ne trouvent d’explication à cet étrange phénomène. Alors que Jean-Louis panique, Valérie se tourne vers Margaux, sa coach de vie, un peu gourou, pas tout à fait marabout, mais très connectée aux forces occultes. Et elle a une solution qui va mettre Jean-Louis face au tabou ultime… Regarder L’origine du monde film complet, Regarder L’origine du monde Streaming vf, Regarder L’origine du monde Streaming Vostfr, Regarder L’origine du monde Streaming vf gratuit, Regarder L’origine du monde Streaming YouRegarder, Regarder L’origine du monde Telecharger, Regarder L’origine du monde Film Complet en streaming, Regarder L’origine du monde Uptobox, Regarder L’origine du monde Film complet en français, Regarder L’origine du monde Streaming vf gratuit complet, L’origine du monde film complet L’origine du monde 2021 film complet L’origine du monde film complet en français L’origine du monde streaming vostfr L’origine du monde film streaming L’origine du monde streaming vf L’origine du monde film complet en ligne L’origine du monde film complet en ligne gratuit L’origine du monde film complet en ligne gratuitement L’origine du monde film complet télécharger L’origine du monde film complet sous-titre L’origine du monde film 2021 streaming vf L’origine du monde bande annonce vf L’origine du monde 2021 film complet en francais L’origine du monde 2021 Film Complet Streaming VF Entier Français, L’origine du monde 2021 Regarder Film en Streaming en Français, L’origine du monde 2021 Stream Film Complet Entier VF en Français, L’origine du monde 2021 streaming VF film en entier gratuit, L’origine du monde 2021 film complet streaming Vk gratuit, L’origine du monde 2021 Regarder Film en Streaming, L’origine du monde 2021 Film télécharger Torrent, L’origine du monde 2021 film complet en Français, L’origine du monde 2021 regarder en streaming, L’origine du monde 2021 youtube film entier, L’origine du monde 2021 streaming vf youwacth, L’origine du monde 2021 streaming en entier, L’origine du monde 2021 Regarder Gratuitment, L’origine du monde 2021 regarder film streaming, Its somewhat ironic that a movie about time travel can’t be reviewed properly until your future self rewatches the movie. It’s bold of Nolan to make such a thoroughly dense blockbuster. He assumes people will actually want to see L’origine du monde more than once so they can understand it properly, which some may not. This movie makes the chronology of Inception look as simplistic as tic-tac-toe. Ergo, it’s hard for me to give an accurate rating, without having seen it twice, as I’m still trying to figure out whether everything does indeed make sense. If it does, this movie is easily a 9 or 10. If it doesn’t, it’s a 6. It’s further not helped by the fact that the dialogue in the first 15 minutes of the movie is painfully hard to understand / hear. Either they were behind masks; they were practically mumbling; the sound effects were too loud; or all of the above. The exposition scenes are also waayyy too brief for something this complex — a problem also shared with Interstellar actually. (Interstellar had this minimalist exposition problem explaining Blight, where if you weren’t careful, you’d miss this one sentence / scene in the entire movie explaining that Blight was a viral bacteria: “Earth’s atmosphere is 80% nitrogen, we don’t even breathe nitrogen. Blight does, and as it thrives, our air gets less and less oxygen”). I guess it’s a Nolan quirk. Hopefully, a revision of the film audio sorts the sound mixing out. I do like the soundtrack, but it’s too loud initially. I liked all the actors. You think John Washington can’t act at first, but he can, and he grows on you as the film progresses. And Pattinson is his usual charming self. Elizabeth is a surprise treat. And so on. Its worth a watch either way. See it with subtitles if you can. And definitely don’t expect to fully understand whats going on the first time around. Its one hell of a complicated film. It will be very hard for an average viewer to gather all the information provided by this movie at the first watch. But the more you watch it, more hidden elements will come to light. And when you are able to put these hidden elements together. You will realize that this movie is just a “masterpiece” which takes the legacy of Christopher Nolan Forward If I talk about acting, Then I have to say that Robert Pattinson has really proved himself as a very good actor in these recent years. And I am sure his acting skills will increase with time. His performance is charming and very smooth. Whenever he is on the camera, he steals the focus John David Washington is also fantastic in this movie. His performance is electrifying, I hope to see more from him in the future. Other characters such as Kenneth Branagh, Elizabeth, Himesh Patel, Dimple Kapadia, Clémence Poésy have also done quite well. And I dont think there is a need to talk about Michael Caine Talking about Music, its awesome. I dont think you will miss Hans Zimmer’s score. Ludwig has done a sufficient job. There is no lack of good score in the movie Gotta love the editing and post production which has been put into this movie. I think its fair to say this Nolan film has focused more in its post production. The main problem in the movie is the sound mixing. Plot is already complex and some dialogues are very soft due to the high music score. It makes it harder to realize what is going on in the movie. Other Nolan movies had loud BGM too. But Audio and dialogues weren’t a problem My humble request to everyone is to please let the movie sink in your thoughts. Let your mind grasp all the elements of this movie. I am sure more people will find it better. Even those who think they got the plot. I can bet they are wrong. L’origine du monde is the long awaited new movie from Christopher Nolan. The movie that’s set to reboot the multiplexes post-Covid. It’s a manic, extremely loud, extremely baffling sci-fi cum spy rollercoaster that will please a lot of Nolan fan-boys but which left me with very mixed views. John David Washington (Denzel’s lad) plays “The Protagonist” — a crack-CIA field operative who is an unstoppable one-man army in the style of Hobbs or Shaw. Recruited into an even more shadowy organisation, he’s on the trail of an international arms dealer, Andrei Sator (Kenneth Branagh in full villain mode). Sator is bullying his estranged wife Kat (Elizabeth Debicki) over custody of their son (and the film unusually has a BBFC warning about “Domestic Abuse”). Our hero jets the world to try to prevent a very particular kind of Armageddon while also keeping the vulnerable and attractive Kat alive. This is cinema at its biggest and boldest. Nolan has taken a cinema ‘splurge’ gun, filled it with money, set it on rapid fire, removed the safety and let rip at the screen. Given that Nolan is famous for doing all of his ‘effects’ for real and ‘in camera’, some of what you see performed is almost unbelievable. You thought crashing a train through rush-hour traffic in “Inception” was crazy? You ain’t seen nothing yet with the airport scene! And for lovers of Chinooks (I must admit I am one and rush out of the house to see one if I hear it coming!) there is positively Chinook-p*rn on offer in the film’s ridiculously huge finale. The ‘inversion’ aspects of the story also lends itself to some fight scenes — one in particular in an airport ‘freeport’ — which are both bizarre to watch and, I imagine, technically extremely challenging to pull off. In this regard John David Washington is an acrobatic and talented stunt performer in his own right, and must have trained for months for this role. Nolan’s crew also certainly racked up their air miles pre-lockdown, since the locations range far and wide across the world. The locations encompassed Denmark, Estonia, India, Italy, Norway, the United Kingdom, and United States. Hoyte Van Hoytema’s cinematography is lush in introducing these, especially the beautiful Italian coast scenes. Although I did miss the David Arnold strings that would typically introduce these in a Bond movie: it felt like that was missing. The ‘timey-wimey’ aspects of the plot are also intriguing and very cleverly done. There are numerous points at which you think “Oh, that’s a sloppy continuity error” or “Shame the production design team missed that cracked wing mirror”. Then later in the movie, you get at least a dozen “Aha!” moments. Some of them (no spoilers) are jaw-droppingly spectacular. Perhaps the best twist is hidden in the final line of the movie. I only processed it on the way home. And so to the first of my significant gripes with L’origine du monde. The sound mix in the movie is all over the place. I’d go stronger than that… it’s truly awful (expletive deleted)! Nolan often implements Shakespeare’s trick of having characters in the play provide exposition of the plot to aid comprehension. But unfortunately, all of this exposition dialogue was largely incomprehensible. This was due to: the ear-splitting volume of the sound: 2020 movie audiences are going to be suffering from ‘L’origine du mondeis’! (LOL); the dialogue is poorly mixed with the thumping music by Ludwig Göransson (Wot? No Hans Zimmer?); a large proportion of the dialogue was through masks of varying description (#covid-appropriate). Aaron Taylor-Johnson was particularly unintelligible to my ears. Overall, watching this with subtitles at a special showing might be advisable! OK, so I only have a PhD in Physics… but at times I was completely lost as to the intricacies of the plot. It made “Inception” look like “The Tiger Who Came to Tea”. There was an obvious ‘McGuffin’ in “Inception” — — (“These ‘dream levels’… how exactly are they architected??”…. “Don’t worry… they’ll never notice”. And we didn’t!) In “L’origine du monde” there are McGuffins nested in McGuffins. So much of this is casually waved L’origine du monde as “future stuff… you’re not qualified” that it feels vaguely condescending to the audience. At one point Sator says to Kat “You don’t know what’s going on, do you?” and she shakes her head blankly. We’re right with you there luv! There are also gaps in the storyline that jar. The word “L’origine du monde”? What does it mean. Is it just a password? I’m none the wiser. The manic pace of L’origine du monde and the constant din means that the movie gallops along like a series of disconnected (albeit brilliant) action set pieces. For me, it has none of the emotional heart of the Cobb’s marriage problems from “Inception” or the father/daughter separation of “Interstellar”. In fact, you barely care for anyone in the movie, perhaps with the exception of Kat. It’s a talented cast. As mentioned above, John David Washington is muscular and athletic in the role. It’s a big load for the actor to carry in such a tent-pole movie, given his only significant starring role before was in the excellent BlacKkKlansman. But he carries it off well. A worthy successor to Gerard Butler and Jason Statham for action roles in the next 10 years. This is also a great performance by Robert Pattinson, in his most high-profile film in a long time, playing the vaguely alcoholic and Carré-esque support guy. Pattinson’s Potter co-star Clemence Poésy also pops up — rather more un-glam that usual — as the scientist plot-expositor early in the movie. Nolan’s regular Michael Caine also pops up. although the 87-year old legend is starting to show his age: His speech was obviously affected at the time of filming (though nice try Mr Nolan in trying to disguise that with a mouth full of food!). But in my book, any amount of Caine in a movie is a plus. He also gets to deliver the best killer line in the film about snobbery! However, it’s Kenneth Branagh and Elizabeth Debicki that really stand out. They were both fabulous, especially when they were bouncing off each other in their marital battle royale. So, given this was my most anticipated movie of the year, it’s a bit of a curate’s egg for me. A mixture of being awe-struck at times and slightly disappointed at others. It’s a movie which needs a second watch, so I’m heading back today to give my ear drums another bashing! And this is one where I reserve the right to revisit my rating after that second watch… it’s not likely to go down… but it might go up. (For the full graphical review, check out One Mann’s Movies on t’interweb and Facebook. Thanks.) As this will be non-spoiler, I can’t say too much about the story. However, what I can is this: L’origine du monde’s story is quite dynamic in the sense that you won’t understand it till it wants you to. So, for the first half, your brain is fighting for hints and pieces to puzzle together the story. It isn’t until halfway through the movie that L’origine du monde invites you to the fantastic storytelling by Christopher Nolan. Acting is beyond phenomenal, and I’d be genuinely surprised if neither Robert Pattinson nor John David Washington doesn’t receive an Oscar nomination for best actor. It’s also hard not to mention how good Elizabeth Debicki and Aaron Johnson both are. All around, great acting, and the dialogue amps up the quality of the movie. The idea of this movie is damn fascinating, and while there are films that explore time-travelling, there’s never been anything quite like this. It has such a beautiful charm and for the most part, explains everything thoroughly. It feels so much more complex than any form of time-travelling we’ve seen, and no less could’ve been expected from Nolan. Oh my lord, the score for this film fits so perfectly. Every scene that’s meant to feel intense was amped by a hundred because of how good the score was. Let me just say though, none of them will be found iconic, but they fit the story and scenes so well. In the end, I walked out, feeling very satisfied. Nevertheless, I do have issues with the film that I cannot really express without spoiling bits of the story. There are definitely little inconsistencies that I found myself uncovering as the story progressed. However, I only had one issue that I found impacted my enjoyment. That issue was understanding some of the dialogue. No, not in the sense that the movie is too complicated, but more that it was hard to make out was being said at times. It felt like the movie required subtitles, but that probably was because, at a time in the film, there was far too much exposition. Nevertheless, I loved this film, I’ll be watching it at least two more times, and I think most of you in this group will enjoy it. I definitely suggest watching it in theatres if possible, just so you can get that excitement. (4/5) & (8.5/10) for those that care about number scores. At first, I want to ask Christopher Nolan one question, HOW THE HELL YOU DID THIS? Seriously I want to have an answer, How did he write such as this masterpiece! How did he get this complicated, fabulous and creative idea? What is going on in his mind? The story is written and directed perfectly, the narration style was absolutely unique. I have no idea how can anyone direct such as this story, that was a huge challenge, and as usual Nolan gave us a masterpiece that we’ll put beside (Memento), (Inception) and (Interstellar) The movie is so fast-paced in a good way, there was no boring moment. The chemistry between John David Washington and Robert Pattinson was great and funny and both of their performance was really good. Elizabeth Debicki performance was the best in the movie because she had the chance to show her acting abilities and she cached up that chance and showed us an A level acting. The music wasn’t unique and distinct as the music of Interstellar for example and I think this movie needed the touch of Hans Zimmer, I’m not saying that Ludwig Göransson failed but Hans Zimmer in another level. If there was something I’d say that I didn’t like it in the movie would it be that Nolan discarded any set up or characters backgrounds except Elizabeth Debicki dramatic story but it wasn’t that bad for me, I didn’t care about that, the exciting story didn’t give me the chance to focus on it. But the actual problem was the third act, it was really complicated and I got lost and I convinced myself to discard the questions that were in my head and enjoy the well-made action sequences and Elizabeth Debicki performance. I think this kind of movie that gets better with a second and third watch. I honestly don’t quite know where to begin with L’origine du monde. I love Christopher Nolan’s work but I have never seen a more complicated film (and I understood Memento). After nearly three hours, I came L’origine du monde from L’origine du monde not knowing myself, my mind reduced to nothing more than piles of ash. Was there time travel involved? Hmm, there was definitely something about time inversion. I mean, does Nolan even understand what he wrote? Look, I give credit to the director because he’s one of the few directors left who knows how to create a compelling and intelligent blockbuster. L’origine du monde is full of Nolan trademarks — the gratuitous Michael Caine cameo, a loud, really loud score, complete with stunning cinematography and slickly inventive action set-pieces. This time around however, Nolan has finally managed to ‘out-Nolan’ himself: the palindromic plot, whilst creatively ambitious, is simply far too complicated for its own good. L’origine du monde is overlong, overstuffed, pretentious and too exhausting to comprehend in its entirety — it makes Inception and Interstellar look like Peppa Pig by comparison. I’m aware of the technical wizardry and creative mastery in this film and lord knows I’ll have to watch this again. For those who want a puzzle, L’origine du monde at least provides a unique cinematic experience. But to actually enjoy solving it Nolan wants you to work