#she's the only one I've seen named but it was in an interview about Soldier Son

[commandercoriandersalamander]

I think we all need to have a moment of thanks for the editors at HarperCollins Voyager and Bantam Spectra who read the entirety of the Fitz and Beloved's developing relationship and then looked Robin Hobb in the eyes and said, yes, this is platonic, I agree. Unsung heroes.

[doberbutts]

Not trying to be confrontational or anything, I just wanna know as a fellow black man:

How can you stand to look at The Body? I've seen the full thing only once 10 years ago, and I still get a mild panic attack every time his name is mentioned. How do you deal with it

The first thing is that I am one of those people to whom dead bodies don't look real. It's a clay figure, a wooden puppet, it's not a person, not anymore. This apparently isn't an uncommon response- and it's not limited to people. The body is just a body. It's an inanimate object. The being inside it has gone. I looked in the coffin when my grandmother died and I have no idea whose face that was, because I didn't recognize it as someone I actually knew. It was just some dead body.

This is also apparently a common trauma response so perhaps not the healthiest way of looking at things. I don't feel particularly traumatized looking at dead relatives or even Till's body. However I felt incredibly triggered during the month that protests broke out across the country and it was dead body after dead body showcased to demonstrate police killings and violence. However I think that is more of a numbers and overexposure to racism thing than simply sensitivity to looking at corpses. But racism is also inherently traumatic so perhaps that IS the problem with me.

[I however can't watch the moment someone dies, as that will send me into an instant panic attack. Once they're dead on the ground though my brain doesn't care. It's weird. I watched this documentary about Vietnam in high school where someone is interviewing citizens in the town square and a soldier walks up to them and shoots them both in the head without a word. I couldn't sleep for several days after that.]

Finally, while it is shocking and triggering, I think it is important to witness. His mother deliberately made sure his body was displayed so that no one could argue that what was done to kill her son "wasn't that bad". There are pictures of her having a breakdown next to his coffin as she reaches for him. Obviously she did not have the same problem I have recognizing the body as the person it was in life.

Obviously if you can't take it you can't take it. But I think it is important to show his body to anyone who tries to justify his murder. When we say that young teenagers should be kidnapped and beaten to death by grown adults if someone accuses them of wrongdoing, with or without any actual evidence, we have demonstratably lost whatever capacity we once had for recognizing each other's humanity.

He was just a boy. And they turned his face into ground beef. And now people want to look away from the truth and talk out the side of their mouth that he deserved it. I don't think anyone deserves to be beaten to death by vigilantes. I especially don't think a child deserves it.

[thebiggerbear]

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't." - Jensen Ackles RPF Prompt Response

Summary: Jensen says something at a con that initially bothers you that prompts a conversation where you admit that there are certain parts of his job that you could easily do without, not sure how that's going to impact your friendship moving forward.

A/N: This is part of the Soldier Boy/Beau Arlen/Dean Winchester/CJ Braxton/Alec McDowell/Jason Teague/Tom Hanniger/Russell Shaw/Boaz Priestly/Jake Gray/Jensen RPF prompt response project I've been working on the last month. I wasn't going to originally add Jensen RPF in there but I had an idea and had to see it through. Speaking of which, this was not the original idea I had lol but after catching up on the Comic Con panel, this idea popped into my head and overtook the other one. The other one I may turn into a future ficlet.

Also, I just want to make it clear that this is not criticism or commentary on what Jensen said at the panel mentioned here or anything else he has said previously or even of his career or persona. This is just a story idea, an exploration of a theme or thread that could be within that world if that makes sense.

This is a kind of sequel to "Come Pick Up Your Ghosts", and can be seen as a possible prequel leading up to "i want better for you...what's better for you than me?" or a standalone in that regard. Jensen and the Reader are still platonic here but if you squint, you might see a tiny little something. ;) Just to clarify, there is no cheating/infidelity going on here, implied, suggested, or otherwise.

All unbeta'd.

Disclaimer: No disrespect is meant to Jensen, Danneel, or their family. I don’t know either of them or anyone connected to or associated with them. I merely take things from interviews, con videos, podcasts, and his public persona to create the “Jensen” seen here. This is purely for creativity and entertainment purposes. Just for fun.

Warnings: language; some angst; smidgen of humor

Word Count: 5372

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @bts24; @deans-spinster-witch; @rebel-paladin; @nancymcl

Beau Arlen | Dean Winchester | CJ Braxton | Jake Gray | Jason Teague | Boaz Priestly | Russell Shaw | Tom Hanniger | Soldier Boy | Alec McDowell

Your assistant placed a file on your desk, grabbing your attention. “For the Whitman case.” 

You briefly glanced up at her. “Great, Lauren, thanks.”

She nodded, picked up your empty coffee mug, and beat a hasty retreat to get you a refill, closing the door behind her. You couldn’t help but smile as you went back to your computer screen. Lauren had only been working for you a few months since Janice had retired, but she already seemed to be a great fit and had everything down pat. 

You still missed your former assistant sometimes, though. Not only had you both worked together seamlessly for years, she had become a close friend and an almost motherly figure to you in times when you needed it most. You kept in touch and she invited you for holiday dinners, but as happy as you were that she was living her best life these days, there were still some moments that creeped up on you when you missed her dearly. And this morning just happened to be one such moment.

Your phone began to buzz with an incoming call. You glanced at the screen, huffing out an irritated breath at the name that popped up. Speaking of some sage motherly-like advice, you sure could use some right about now. Aggravation wasn’t your usual reaction to your best friend calling you, but this morning before you came to work, you had been catching up on some of the highlights of his panel the other day and there was one soundbite in particular that had you clicking your tongue in disappointment. You had briefly spoke to Jensen on Saturday night and he had texted you yesterday but you hadn’t known any of the specifics of how the panel went other than “It went well.” Not until you opened your newsfeed on your phone earlier and a headline popped out at you about Vought Rising and The Boys cast’s appearance on a Comic Con panel this weekend, with a video attached. That video led you to look up others until you finally arrived at the one that made you close everything out altogether and concentrate on finishing your coffee to hurry out the door.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance when your phone continued to vibrate and you hit the button on the bluetooth headset in your ear. “Hey,” you greeted curtly when the call connected. “I can’t really talk right now, Jensen. I’m about to meet with a client and—”

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts or calls?”

“Shit,” you silently mouthed to yourself and clenched your hands together. You then quietly cleared your throat. “I just told you. I have a full schedule this morning and I can’t—”

“Bullshit.”

Okay yeah, it was bullshit, he was right. Well, actually not entirely; you really had been trying to bury yourself in work since you arrived, earlier than normal (you’d even beat Lauren into the office), in order to prevent you from thinking about what he’d said and why it bothered you so much. “It is not bullshit,” you stated calmly, your jaw tensed. “I have a lot of work to do to prepare for court later this week. I told you that.”

“Y/N, you texted me early this morning, saying and I quote ‘Good morning, going to be super busy this week. Tons of work to do,’” he continued reading the message you had sent him before putting your phone on Do Not Disturb until about half an hour ago. “‘Hope you have a good shoot in Vancouver. Talk soon.’ Really?”

At that time, Lauren had decided to reappear with your new coffee. You gave her an appreciative nod and opened the file she had left for you, scanning the documents inside. “Yes, really. I just told you, I have a full week.” You waited until Lauren left and the door was closed once more. “I don’t see why that’s an issue.”

“You know damn well why.”

You expelled a quiet breath, telling yourself to bite your tongue and remain professional. It usually worked but Jensen had always had a way of getting under your skin.

“You knew I was going to call you once I got to set this morning. We even agreed on the best time for me to call.”

You did and you knew that your text was going to bother him once he received it, proven by him immediately trying to call you after you had sent it. But you just needed some space to think. 

Jensen was up North shooting an episode for a series he was guesting on, coming off of Comic Con in San Diego. He had asked you if you wanted to go with him, since you had never been, but you had politely declined knowing you had an upcoming court case that you needed to prepare for. And now, having seen the video and heard what you did, you were glad you hadn’t taken him up on his offer. You would have been unable to hide your disappointment the entire time until you both went on separate flights, you going back home and him heading to Canada.   

“What the hell, Y/N?”   

“I’m just busy,” you muttered, gazing over the papers in front of you, pen in your hand, poised and ready.

“You forget how well I know you. That text is your polite way of saying ‘don’t call me, I’ll call you’ which means you’re pissed at me and you don’t want to talk.” You winced at his matter of fact tone. He wasn’t exactly wrong. “So again, what the hell?”

Now that he had you on the phone, calling you on your attempt at temporarily pushing him away via text, you started to examine just why you were annoyed with him — something you had been trying to avoid much like his attempts to contact you the last few hours. Suffice it to say, he wasn’t going to let this go, you both were bound to get into an argument, and then you were going to get the space you wanted, albeit a cold and tense space, until one of you caved and apologized. Something that had become somewhat of a routine in your friendship, though rare since you both usually got along very well.

So now that he was holding your feet to the fire per se, now that he was not letting you push him away so easily, you had to really think about why you were pissed, why your gut had clenched when you first heard the voice of your best friend come down the line, and why his careless off-the-cuff joke had bothered you so much. 

“Y/N,” he spoke to you in a quieter tone than a moment ago. “Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath and tossed your pen onto your desk, sitting back in your chair. Fuck it. “‘Old titties’? Really?”

There was a beat of awkward, tension-filled silence, before Jensen immediately filled it. “Wait a second. That’s what you’re pissed at me about?” He let out a laugh of disbelief. “Seriously?”

You flinched and immediately sat up straight, grabbing papers and loudly straightening them into a neat pile on your desk. “You know what? I have a court case to prepare for and I also have a 12:30 who just arrived. I have a full day, you have a full day of shooting, so let’s just end it here, shall we? Have a great week, Jensen, and good luck. Talk soon.” 

The laughter immediately stopped. “Whoa, hold up a second. Y/N, don’t—”

His voice was cut off as you pressed the button on your headset and then grabbed it, tossing it angrily onto your desk. Your phone started to buzz again but this time, you snatched it up, put the call to voicemail, and powered down the device before dumping it into your handbag and shutting the drawer it sat in. You clicked a button on your office phone and a moment later, Lauren’s voice filled your office. 

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“I’m going to be working on the Whitman case for the next couple of hours so please hold all calls.”

“Absolutely. Would you like me to order lunch for you in the meantime?”

A little bit of your fury went out of you at her sweet offer. Right, you were a professional, and no matter how much your friend had just pissed you off, you wouldn’t allow it to affect your work. “That would be great, Lauren. Thank you,” you let out in a deflating and tired breath.

“Of course. If you need anything else in the meantime, Ms. Y/L/N, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the phone. “Thank you.” You clicked off the button and dropped your head in your hands. You could still hear Jensen’s laughter and “That’s what you’re pissed at me about? Seriously?” You couldn’t completely blame him for his reaction; you knew it was something small and stupid to be angry with him for. His response to Jeff’s question on that panel had nothing to do with you after all. But the minute he’d said those words, you couldn’t help but think back to that scene he had filmed with the two older actresses from season 3. Granted, a sexual attraction to much older women was part of Soldier Boy’s character, but at the time you’d watched that scene, while it had been amusing as it was meant to be, you couldn’t help but have respect for the two actresses willing to strip down and put themselves on display for the camera like that. That couldn’t have been easy, no matter the type of the career they had embarked on, and you were in awe, wishing you could have confidence like that when you reached that age. Hell, you could do with some of that confidence nowadays. You hadn’t had sex in forever and no one had seen your bare body outside of your doctors in the last five years or so. You also hadn’t been to the beach or any pools in that time so no one had exactly seen you in any swimwear either. 

Truthfully, aging was a bit of a sensitive issue for you. Not in a superficial, skin deep kind of way, but very much in a holy-crap-my-body-is-starting-to-turn-against-me-with-every-single-year way. As you got older, you continued to have more and more compassion for your elders, knowing that someday you would eventually reach that phase of life yourself. It made you appreciate your present everyday life all the more, but that didn’t mean you liked being reminded of where you (and every single person on the planet) were eventually headed. So any new gray hairs you found; any sign of aging in your skin; the fact that you absolutely had to get up at least once a night to use the bathroom now, no exceptions; how you couldn’t go without at least 7 hours of sleep a night or you’d be exhausted the whole day and even sometimes still were, not to mention the day after that and the next — you weren’t exactly thrilled to get those reminders. 

You knew what Jensen had said had nothing to do with you in the slightest and you weren’t narcissistic enough to act as if it had or take personal offense to it. Even though you had been disgusted at his choice of joke, you knew he was simply on and he was providing entertainment for the cast and crowd, like he always did. People laughed at the joke and you knew none of them viewed it the same way you did. Not one of them felt as if it was an unfair indictment of your sex when they got older (something that couldn’t be helped) or if it was a commentary of disgust at the average older woman’s body as she aged or even something completely misogynistic (and even if it was, it was in character which is usually what Jensen tended to aim for when doing these appearances). No, you knew it had been taken as a simple joke as you should have taken it but you couldn’t help your visceral reaction of irritation followed by massive disappointment in your friend.

The Jensen you knew was not the Jensen the world saw. In your friendship, you had gotten to know a very different person altogether. While he enjoyed garnering laughs from people and was very quick to make witty remarks and jokes that added to a pleasant atmosphere that he encapsulated, you found over time that you really didn’t care for his public persona at times. Or at least when it came down to things like that. You knew it came with the job he was in, but you much preferred your friend to the Jensen Ackles that was solely for public consumption and engagement. Which is why you supposed you never took him up on his offers of visiting sets he was on, attending any Hollywood events such as The Boys Season 3 premiere in Brazil, or even meeting him at any of the several conventions he had booked over the years. Early on in your getting to know him, you had trouble reconciling the man you saw privately with the man who sat up on those stages or in front of those cameras. There was nothing wrong with either of them but over time, you found you much preferred it when there were no cameras, no screaming fans, no celebrities or Hollywood executives around — just him. 

That didn’t mean you didn’t support his career; of course, you did. He had been successful on this chosen path way before you ever met him and he loved doing it. How could you not cheer on your best friend in a job that not only was he good at but also made him happy? But God, sometimes you wished fame, PR, and performativity weren’t part of the package. Despite the very nature of the business he had chosen to be in.

You straightened up and pulled the Whitman file closer to you. He hadn’t done anything wrong, nothing that you should feel angry with him for, and you would apologize to him later. Right now, though, you needed to get your head back into your own career and prepare for court that would be happening in the next two days’ time.

This whole thing was going to have to wait. Until you could make sense of things for yourself at least.

You watched as the couple on your screen awkwardly flirted, popping a yogurt-covered raisin into your mouth. The film wasn’t one you would usually check out; romantic comedies weren’t really your thing, especially the ones made these days. But there had been a particular selling point that caught your eye, that then had you watching the trailer, and before you knew it, you were fully invested in the movie and actually laughing at some of the cringe-inducing moments but also blatantly honest humor present throughout the story. 

You were so invested that you jumped when your phone began to loudly buzz on the coffee table. You paused the movie and leaned forward to glance at the screen that had just turned on with a notification, sighing tiredly when you saw the name on it.

You picked up your phone and clicked on the message.

Just got back to the hotel. Long day. I’ll be up for a bit though. Call me if you want.

You pressed your lips together, thinking it over for a moment. You still hadn’t spoken to Jensen since your terse call earlier and you had cowardly kept your phone off for the rest of the day. Which meant that when you turned it back on the minute you walked back in your door, you had several voicemail messages (two were from him) and quite a few text messages (most were from him) suddenly blowing up the device. Everything from justified disbelief to annoyance to explanations to apologies to requests for you to answer him saturated your last several text messages. You hadn’t responded to anything from him just yet; you had been waiting until you felt ready to embark on that conversation, not sure how much you wanted to delve into when you both had it. He would want to know exactly why that joke had upset you, as any other person naturally would, and you weren’t sure if you felt comfortable enough to tell him and dump some of that crazy of yours at his feet. You knew you weren’t crazy obviously, but how could you tell your best friend that his doing a part of his job (successfully you might add) bothered you? And that you got mad at him for it? What, was he supposed to change that up because it hurt your feelings or added to your discomfort with said part of his job? Now, that was crazy. 

You took a deep breath, ate a few more raisins, sipped your water, and decided the hell with it. Time to face the music. You pressed the phone icon next to his name and put your bluetooth in, waiting for the call to connect as you braced yourself for any justified irritation you might encounter. You were going to rip the band-aid off and apologize; he deserved nothing less from you after you had avoided him all day. 

“Hey,” his voice greeted you warmly, something you hadn’t been expecting. It completely disarmed you, especially when you could hear the exhaustion lacing his tone. 

“Hey.”

“You ready to talk now?”

You hadn’t really been truly ready about a moment ago even though you were going to push through it. But now, hearing the tired voice of your best friend after a long day of not being able to talk to him because you felt like you couldn’t — yes, you were. “Um, yeah.”

“Good.” You could hear him shifting in the background, letting out a weary sigh as he presumably settled wherever he had moved to. “Are you going to tell me why?”

You bit at your lip. “I just didn’t care for it, I guess.” You then dropped your head into your hands. Oh God, you did sound crazy. 

“Oh-kay. Was it the word choice? Because I only—”

“No. No, it…” You expelled your own sigh, frustrated with yourself. “It had nothing to do with any of that.”

“Then what did it have to do with?”

You chewed at your thumbnail, not really wanting to tell him since you would sound even worse than you already did. 

“Y/N,” he prompted. “What pissed you off about it?”

You dropped your hand to your lap and shook your head. Fuck it. “I just hate the forced performativity sometimes, okay? I get it, it’s part of your job, and I need to just shut up and stay in my lane. But you’re my best friend, I care about you, and sometimes I really, really dislike watching or hearing that side of you. Which is exactly why I choose not to engage with that world you’re in. Because to me, no matter how good you are at your job, and you’re incredible at it obviously, that performative bullshit isn’t you. Not the you I’ve gotten to know, anyway, and certainly not at that level. Like, sure, you try to make people laugh all the time and crack jokes, and I know you were probably a little nervous being on that panel so you had to break the ice somehow, I get it, but Jesus, Jensen. I just…” You let out another sigh and pinched the bridge of your nose, clenching your eyes shut. “I’m just not a fan of when you have to tap into that. I feel like sometimes you say things for the audience’s sake that just make me cringe sometimes and that I just can���t get behind. And that pisses me off because I want to support you but when you say shit like that, like some of the soundbites you’ve had these past few months, I just can’t. And I hate that, because I know that’s not you. And I absolutely fucking hate how judgmental I know I’m being right now but I can’t help how I feel. So that is what pissed me off about that stupid, insensitive, frat boy-ish, sexist, and quite frankly ageist joke, okay?”

A deafening silence filled the conversation then and you mentally cursed at yourself. Great. Well, this might be the end of your friendship and where you two parted ways. While the idea of it broke your heart, you couldn’t really blame him. You had just unleashed an incoherent rant of a word salad that anyone might take a second look at the concept of continuing a friendship with you for. You had called him to apologize…how had you gone this far off the intended track?

“Okay.”

Your eyes snapped open. “Okay?”

“Y/N,” he started gently, sounding like some guy on a nature documentary or something who was trying to soothe a wild animal into not seeing him as a threat. “It was meant to be a joke for the character. Just something to make people laugh while staying in character.”

“I know that. I get it, but—”

“There’s nothing more to it than that for me. We were promoting the prequel, promoting the last season, they even had me sit next to Ant since we’re going to dive deep into the whole Soldier Boy and Homelander dynamic when production picks back up. That’s all it was.”

Guilt and shame started to gnaw at you. He had explained these things to you, back when you were getting to know him, and he took you through the ins and outs of his job — even the things the public didn’t see or know about too much.  

“As for the other stuff, I have to be honest, I’m not really sure what to say. I know you’re not crazy about any of it. I’ve known that for a while now. Every time you turn me down when I ask you to come to one of these things, always with the excuse of work or having to go to court. I didn’t push you on it because I figured maybe someday you’d be comfortable enough to say yes and let me show you how it all works. I get what you’re saying, I do…but, it’s my job, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment brought you up short and then made you feel even worse. It’s not that he hadn’t used it before, but something about the sad resignation that coated his voice right then caught your attention. What did he feel resigned to? “I know,” you whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” His voice sounded a little thicker than before that had your brows knitting together. If you didn’t know any better, he sounded slightly upset. Perhaps this had definitely been a step too far and he was now going to give you the boot. Or perhaps it was something else…something else he hadn’t told you yet that was bothering him and that’s why he had wanted to talk to you today when he asked yesterday what the best time to call you was. Oh shit.

“Jensen?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and you could hear him moving again, presumably sitting up. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

You let out a quiet breath of relief when he sounded better than he had a moment ago. “Yeah.” You let a moment pass before you asked, ”You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Another minute of silence happened, slightly less tense than before but a little more awkward. Like neither of you knew where to go from here and you both were waiting for the other to break it to give you some sort of direction.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” 

“Is that it?” His voice broke at the end of his question but he cleared his throat once more. “Are we…done?”

It suddenly hit you what he was really asking, why he sounded so resigned earlier. Your heart broke a little more at the realization and you silently cursed yourself again. Instinctually, you knew exactly what to say to lead you both out of this pool of uncertainty you had unwittingly pushed you both into. You let out an amused snort. “Dude, you saddled me with an angry poltergeist that cost me a small fortune in repairs and I didn’t show you the door then. What makes you think I would now just because you were doing your job?”

Another moment of quiet passed and you started to worry that you had ruined everything when he finally responded with, “I can’t believe you’re still going on about that. And I offered to pay for those repairs even though we both know ghosts don’t really exist.”

Your lips relaxed into a relieved smile. “Says the ghost magnet who knows they do exist.”

“Oh my God,” he muttered into the phone. “How is it that a successful lawyer like yourself still believes in that crap?”

“Probably because said crap destroyed my house while I had to stay in a hotel for two weeks. And how is it that a guy who played a ghost hunter for fifteen years, who dropped a very real ghost on my doorstep and saw the damage it did live on facetime still doesn’t believe in that crap?”

“Because they don’t exist.”

“They do.”

“They don’t.”

“They do and you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t let me smudge you every time you drop by.”

“I only let you do that because it makes you happy and this way I only have to hear ten times that night how I supposedly brought a temperamental ghost the last time I walked in without being cleansed, compared to the usual fifty if I don’t.”

“Oooh, buddy, guess what you’re getting for Christmas this year,” you teased. “I’m placing the order online right now.”

“Christ,” he mumbled. “Don’t you dare or you know what I’ll be sending you in return.” 

“You better not. I’ll hand deliver it to your doorstep and let your ghost friends have fun with it and you.” You weren’t really going to mass order sage and send it to him like you had threatened a few times before which had prompted him to threaten to send you several ouija boards in retaliation. Your friendship was a strange one sometimes, you’d be the first to admit it, but truthfully, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thinking about that, your smile faded and you pressed your lips together. “Jensen?”

“Mmm?”

“I really am sorry.” You truly were. You felt badly for even getting pissed at him in the first place. You still weren’t entirely sure why seeing him like that bothered you so much, despite already knowing the performativity was part of his job. It didn’t change the Jensen you knew and when he was on, it didn’t affect you. So why would it disturb you that deeply? You refused to look at it any closer, though; you had done enough living in your head for one day. And right now, you wanted to make things right with your best friend.

“It’s okay.” From the way he said it, you knew he was telling the truth. “But can you promise me one thing?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Can you just…talk to me next time and not ice me out like you did? I was wracking my brains all day trying to figure out why that joke would bother you enough for you to clam up and push me away like you did. You’ve never done that before, no matter how pissed off I made you or whatever arguments we’ve had, and I just— I need for you to talk to me when that happens. No matter how pissed you are. I know that you need your space sometimes, I do too, but…don’t shut me out. Not like that. Okay?”

“Okay,” you choked out, clearing your throat and scrubbing a tear from your cheeks. You were definitely not on the verge of crying. Not at all.

“We’re still going to talk about the job thing but I’d rather do that in person if you don’t mind,” he murmured. “I don’t really want to have that conversation over the phone.” 

“Okay,” you repeated. 

After a moment he asked, “So, what are you up to right now?”

You wiped away another tear that was absolutely not rolling down your cheek. “Um, just watching a movie.”

“Oh yeah? What movie?”

“Uh, Anyone But You? The new Glen Powell movie on Netflix?”

“Glen Powell,” he scoffed, making you smile when you heard his tell-tale annoyance at the mention of your current celebrity crush. While you both loved the Top Gun movies, something you had in common, he had finally figured out why you wanted to watch the sequel more times than the original. He would literally grumble and wear his grumpy Dean expression, much like you imagined he was now. Sure enough, he grumbled, “What do you see in that guy?”

You couldn’t help but huff out a chuckle. “Everything you don’t.” You stared at the image on the screen of a shirtless, wet Glen that you had paused on. “Like lots and lots of muscles,” you answered honestly as you eyed the fine looking man on your television. You were biting your lip again but this time for a whole other reason.

“Muscles,” he muttered. 

“And the most gorgeous green eyes you’ve ever seen,” you added. 

“Seriously?”

“And a killer smile. Plus, he’s from Texas, did you know that? Austin, your old neck of the woods.” You knew he knew all of this but you couldn’t resist needling him a little. His reactions were always amusing as hell.

“Oh yeah, I know,” he said in a mocking tone that betrayed that he was less than thrilled at your listing off of Glen’s attributes.

“You know, maybe I should take you up on your offer to go to one of these public events if he’s also going to be there.”

“That’s why you would finally say yes?”

“Among other things,” you teased.

“If I find out he’s going to be there, I’m not inviting you.”

“Jensen!”

“I’m just kidding…maybe.”

“You better be,” you growled.

“Yeah, yeah. Glen Powell,” he muttered again, making you smirk. “Lots and lots of muscles, green eyes, killer smile, from Texas…” An aggravated sigh came down the line. “Fine. What part of the movie are you on?”

“No, you have to watch it from the beginning. I’ll watch with you.” You eagerly clicked out of the movie and went back to its menu.

“So you can see more of Glen’s fine muscles?”

“It’s about the definition, not the bulk.”

“Uh huh.” He faked a gagging sound, making you chuckle. “You’re lucky I care about your happiness, Y/N. That’s the only reason I’m even indulging in this ogle fest masquerading as a chick flick.”

“Hey, it’s not a chick flick and Sydney Sweeney is in it, too, so don’t act like this great selfless sacrifice you’re making is going to be hellish torture for you.”

“Sydney Sweeney? Now, why didn’t you start out with that? Hell yes, we’re watching this movie. Let’s go.” 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head and smiling. Typical. “You ready?”

“Not sure how long I’m going to last before it puts me to sleep, but yeah, ready when you are.”

“Okay.” You pressed the start button and saw the familiar production logos pop up.

A moment later you heard, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you called.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you laid your head down on your couch pillow. “Me, too.” And you were. Regardless of anything else, no matter your disagreements past or present, first and foremost he was your best friend. As he began to tease you when Glen first appeared on screen, you couldn’t help but smile; in the end, that was all that mattered.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

Main Masterlist

Main Tag List Submission Form

[kazz-brekker]

hotd episode 8 thoughts

hmmm. i remember reading an interview with the writers of this show before the season dropped where they lowkey threw shade at hbo and very heavily implied that having 8 episodes rather than 10 was not their choice and i can very much feel that with this episode

it felt a lot more like a penultimate episode of a season rather than the season finale. all of that set-up with the marching armies at the end of the episode really felt more like a "and next week, a big battle!" kind of thing rather than a "in 2 years, you'll see a big battle!"

why is this show acting like the war is only just starting…we saw named characters toasting each other 4 episodes ago…

i was otto hightower-baited! i saw the name rhys ifans in the opening credits and went !!!!! only for a single shot him in the last minute of the episode, i feel robbed!

i did find tyland lannister's visit to the triarchy very funny. no bureaucrat in the history of westeroes has ever suffered like this man. also sharako lohar was DEFINITELY hitting on him, you cannot convince me otherwise

as someone perpetually annoyed that in game of thrones daario naharis has brown hair rather than blue i appreciate that the tyroshi sailors had dyed hair

the aegon-larys alliance really become one of the unexpected highlights of the second half of this season. they're going on their little essos vacation together!

god rhaena you deserved so much better this season and so much more screentime. we should have seen more of you and jeyne arryn!

entertained to see that ulf is quickly becoming that coworker that no one likes

rhaenyra. girl. i love you but please stop with this bloodless warfare thing. you have six dragons on your side, stop hesitating about using them!

all of those soldiers standing around in the background clearly eavesdropping on criston and gwayne's argument was very funny

kind of loving all this insecurity about his parentage they're giving jace, it's nice to have some conflict with his character

i liked the little dragon heads on rhaenyra's dress at the dinner with the dragonseeds

alys rivers sitting on the edge of daemon's bed like his own personal sleep paralysis demon made me chuckle a bit

his final weirwood vision was such blatant fanservice but as a fan of daenerys and bloodraven i can't be that mad about it

can someone check on that portion of the fandom that used to ship helaena and aemond, i feel like they're not doing so hot right now after those scenes

i did think it was strange that helaena could so clearly communicate aemond's death to him when she had such a hard time doing so with her other visions in the past? but perhaps nothing clarifies your sinister visions of the future like being mad at your sibling

i was really happy that rhaenyra and daemon reunited! i've missed matt smith and emma d'arcy having scenes together this season a lot. plus, i know their relationship is all kinds of fucked-up but i just loved seeing them speak in high valyrian to each other again. and it's always nice to see daemon kneel before his wife

glad that alyn got to really chew out corlys on his failures as a father, that's been a long time coming

i wasn't expecting rhaenyra and alicent to have another scene together this season but ngl it was kind of fun, emma d'arcy and olivia cooke really just eat up every scene they have with each other

plus the reversal of their dynamic from the episode 3 meeting was interesting, with rhaenyra being very unyielding and alicent being desperate to connect

i enjoyed seeing rhaenyra be mean to alicent, especially the whole "son for a son" thing. yes, rhaenyra! alicent's son killed yours! please be mad about it, you deserve it!

i just feel like the end of this seaon lacked the punch that season 1 had, it felt more like a little showcase of all the fun stuff that was coming rather than definitive cliffhanger. i mean, c'mon, we don't even get to see the fall of king's landing????

[rubykgrant]

(This took ENTIRELY too long to write, I've been struggling with it for a week or two; Andrews' into for her interview with Sarge. he will naturally try to derail all her questions with his own ramblings, but she pushes to keep him on track, revealing some of the depth he doesn't want to admit he has. Sarge is a stubborn soldier, a mad scientist, and the Reddest Red to ever Red! he also kinda sorta cares about all these annoying jerks he's stuck with. I've been re-writing and editing this for a couple days, because I wanted it to give little hints about what the entire interview holds, and cover all the weird layers of Sarge~)

“It is difficult to know where to begin when trying to describe the collection of unlikely heroes known as the Reds and the Blues. However, if given the chance, one member of the group would point out that Red comes first in the title, therefore the place to begin with would be the Reds. This same individual would also insist that when talking about the Reds, the leader should naturally go first. That is, himself. Sarge. It is both his name and reputation, though arguably not his actual rank.

Sarge has been a military man for most of his life, but he was fighting in a war that wasn’t real, leading a team only meant to provide simulation training for other soldiers, who themselves were lied to about the purpose of their missions. That is only the peak of this proverbial iceberg, but through it all, he has certainly lived up to his title. Anybody who has known him for an extended period of time, or even just talked to him for about 20 minutes, could confirm that back in Blood Gulch, Sarge was the only one who took the fight between Red and Blue seriously. It was his purpose, and set the pattern of his behavior during the years that followed.

In his quest for victory, he often overlooks the flaws in his own plans, be they over-complicated or incredibly straight-forward. Sarge tends to live by his own rules and follow his own logic, believing himself to always be right, regardless of any evidence to the contrary. Sarge has also pushed the limits of what can be done with limited resources, from weapons to robotics. Sarge doesn’t let things like mechanical capability or the laws of physics stop his grand aspirations. Despite being a natural instigator who thrives on conflict, Sarge has also proven to be surprisingly adaptive when it comes to working with others for a common goal, even if they were previously considered an enemy.

Sarge’s most impressive qualities as a leader are found in his rare, yet significant, moments of compassion. Although he isn’t always willing to give compliments, he notices the positive traits in others, even when it isn’t clear to themselves. In particular, he has seen the worth of his fellow Reds, and the Blues, at a personal level. More than just appreciating their value as soldiers, he knows their habits and quirks, and has managed to motivate them in the face of dire situations. He trusts them, even if they were insubordinate underlings, even if they were renegade Freelancers out for blood, even if they betrayed him and stole his robot, even if they were the Blues he swore to hate until he died. He trusts them, and he believes in them. This is perhaps what makes Sarge a good example of what to expect from the Reds and Blues- they are unpredictable, and Sarge is proud to be part of that.”

[spideyspeaches]

Heart made of glass ↬ t.h

A/N: Beta read by the lovely @hollandcrush​ !! <3<3

Request (Summary): can you please write one about Tom, who is on the filming process of cherry and has some emotional problems because he feels that his character is already part of his life, so he comes home very angry and in a bad mood, so he just snaps and creates a big fight with the reader and just says things that he obviously didn't meant, you know very angst, and at the end just very fluff.

Hope you like this anon! Lemme know your thoughts heh <3<3

Warnings: breakdowns, slight vomiting but it’s not graphic. I’m not in any way romanticizing or sexualising breakdowns. 

WC: 2k+ 

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Tom was an ambitious guy. He took his roles seriously, no matter what his character was and who he played. It was an admirable trait, the way he both enjoyed his work and worked hard to earn a high place in such a place as Hollywood. 

You always took pride in how amazing and accomplished your boyfriend was, your heart swelling whenever you heard his name being mentioned in events and interviews. You enjoyed how he tried to diversify the movies he worked in. 

("I've been playing the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man for so long, it's about time I play someone different now." He once said in a Jimmy Kimmel interview. You were watching from the audience, smiling as the audience roared in affirmation. 

"Well looks like you took quite a big leap from playing a superhero." Jimmy said, smiling at the audience with his paparazzi smile. 

You knew the question was scripted, quite harmless, but you still noticed how his shoulder stiffened, his smile not wavering once. 

"Well yeah, I used to be a superhero and now I'm a heroin addict." He joked, winking at the audience as he ran a hand through his nearly hairless head.

He cried himself to sleep that night, burying his face in your chest as you shushed him. )

It always worked in his favour, with the incredible support his family and fan base provided. And he was always so humble about it. 

Filming Cherry, however, was way different than he thought it would. With filming Cherry came consequences that he didn't necessarily like. He knew what he was bringing on himself and his family when he was first introduced with the script.

(Contrary to popular belief, he didn't actually give out spoilers, it was just small promotional stunts that kind of took over as his reputation to spoil minor details.)  

The process was intense, getting into the mindset of "Cherry" was taxing, and people were beginning to notice it in him. He was more restless, tugging at his non existent curls when he thought no one would notice. 

He was more clingy, more appreciative of your body and you, letting you know that there was no sexual intent behind his acts of caressing your waist at random times. You didn't notice the change in his behaviour. 

He had always been like this, watching you with the most gratifying gaze a man could muster, his pretty brown eyes like globes of whiskey, staring at you with a muffled expression. You didn't notice. 

There had always been a cutting edge to his voice, you knew and adored it. Behind the British actor who played Spider-Man, he was your Tom. Your Tom who gave you forehead kisses and baked cakes with you and made silly playlists that reminded him of you and you of him, your Tom who worshiped the ground you walked on, your Tom, your Tom and your Tom.

(Sometimes you envied that he was an actor, so good at hiding any emotions he felt, it came easy to him, just another fake emotion like he was a face behind the camera.)

He was never aggressive towards you. Never. Even on tough days, he was soft, caring and understanding to the point where it made you mad, immediately making you feel guilty. He worked so hard and yet here you were, blaming him for being nice, never standing up for himself.

"Uh, Tom, Tom stop, wait." You grunted, pushing his shoulders as he scrambled away from you at your discontent. 

You held his face, his breath hitching, hyperventilating as he tried to get himself together. 

Ever since he had started filming Cherry, he had been away from you. And now that you were finally here, he had been all over you, making love to every inch of your skin, like it was a holy grail he had to find, caressing your warm skin under his fingers making you shiver as his nimble fingers wandered. It was the intimacy, sexual and quasi-sexual, that made you realise, that there was something wrong.

Sex- it had been a constant in your life other than Tom. But of course, you didn't live on it. It was but a fuel that strengthened your relationship, it was about discovery and showing your vulnerable sides. It was a reminder of the coffee dates and baseball matches. It was loving, gentle and raw, like a gentle breeze caressing your face.

But this, this was different. And you noticed. This, what you had been doing, it was fucking. It was aggressive and needy and it felt good, but at the same time, it felt different.

"Baby?" You asked softly, trying to meet his eyes in the dark lit trailer. It was late, way past filming times, the only time you got to see his vulnerable side. 

You should have been in his hotel room, but you were in his trailer instead. All alone in the all encompassing darkness, it made your heart stutter beats. 

"Baby speak to me. What's happening, who's doing this to you?" You ask once again, holding onto him firmly this time, his squirming frame making you loosen your hold. You didn't care that you were naked, he had already seen it all. 

Fiddling with the rough sheets, he huffed a heavy breath. And that was all it took for the dam to break. 

"Tell me how do you feel baby, you're starting to scare me." You urged. All you got in response was his muffled sobs. Pulling him forward, you let his head rest on your bare chest, rivulets of tears sliding down your warm skin, almost burning you like acid, his tiny hair tickling you, a very contrasting feeling. 

"I can't do it. I can't take it anymore." He sniffed, wrapping his strong arms around you, shivering at the contact. It was a cold night in Cleveland, and you were naked and he was crying. You were berating yourself for not noticing. 

"What can't you take anymore?" You hold him, tracing circles on his buzz cut hair, just the way you did when he had his curls. 

"I feel like I'm becoming him. I don't like it at all, I try and try but I can't." He sobs, shoulders hitching with each sob. You felt your heart break, the sounds of his cries sending daggers into your skin. 

How could you have not noticed? The lively sunshine of a man was almost an empty shell. The interviews with former drug addicts had been excruciating for you, pity, disgust, sympathy and every other sinful emotion swirling in your mind. 

You couldn't believe that you hadn't thought about Tom, of what an effect it would have on him. 

"Bub, listen to me, carefully," you said, shushing him as he continued to look at you, teary eyed and red nosed, snot dripping out of his nose,"you listen to me. You're strong and resilient and nothing like him okay? He's not you. You're Tom Holland. You're brilliant and brave and amazing okay?" 

"But I don't feel that way!" He said, his aggressive stance surprising you, "he's- he's…" 

"He's what?" You asked, a little too impatient. Muttering a sorry, you rub your palm on his cheek, kissing the soft, moist skin.

"I don't feel so good." He croaked, getting up suddenly, making a run for the washroom. You rushed after him, watching him as he heaved into the toilet. Rubbing his back, you muttered affirmations, curling besides him as he sat on the ground, his back to the cold wall. 

You got up to switch on the lights, feeling his hands tugging yours, a soft "stay" coming out of him. 

"Better?" You asked, feeling him now against your collarbone. 

"I shouldn't be this affected, this- this isn't fair. I'm overreacting, I'm sorry I worried you baby I swear I didn't mean to-" 

"Shh, Tom first of all, you're not overreacting okay?" You smiled, kissing his nose, moving towards his brows and his forehead, "It's perfectly reasonable. The role you're playing...It's not exactly picking daisies. Fuck you're playing a heroin addict Tommy, a broken soldier with PTSD, a breakdown was inevitable. It only shows that you're human." 

"Really?" He smiled, it looked more like a grimace, a plea for reassurance. 

"Yes, really." You said, booping his nose, eliciting a giggle from him,"now, you better go to bed mister, you have an early shoot don't you?" You playfully scolded, kissing his lips, laughing as he carried you bridal style. 

"Tomorrow will be better." You whispered, kissing his eyelids, already closed, chest moving rhythmically as you counted his pulse, making sure he was completely asleep before slipping on your clothes, covering him with the thin quilt. 

***

"Is everything okay on set?" You asked casually, watching the crewmates work tirelessly in the daylight. 

You were standing next to Ciara on a prop jeep, fiddling with the water bottle held in your hand. 

"Hmm, as okay it can be with two people playing drug addicts." She shrugged, looking at you with a small smile. 

"Are you okay?" You asked, turning to give her your full attention, remembering your boyfriend's breakdown yesterday. 

"It gets… intense at times. Some scenes are hard to play, but we're okay. Mostly." She answered, taking your water bottle and chugging the water. 

"I'm not a therapist, but you can talk to me, you know?" You smiled, holding her shoulder as she gave you a bashful smile. 

"It's been tough on Tom. He's more aggressive, nearly had a breakdown during a scene." She said. 

"Yeah, that.. that happened yesterday too." 

"It was time, a person can only hold so much right?" 

"Yeah." 

You pondered her words, wondering if you could do anything to curb this. 

"I think I need help." He said one day while you were eating dinner. Harry, who was sitting next to you, looked up from his plate, giving you a knowing look before clearing his throat. 

"I'm gonna get some water." He said, waving awkwardly at you and getting up. You took that as a cue to scoot closer to Tom, running your hands through his camel hair. 

"That's very brave of you hun, asking for help." You smiled, kissing his cheek softly. You felt him smile, sliding closer to you, holding you by your waist. 

"I learnt from the best." He muttered in your hair, kissing your forehead. 

You felt his love that day, felt the way he ran his smooth fingers on your waistline, sliding across your thighs with care and softness you hadn't felt in a while. He was healing. It was a process, it took time but it happened.

***

You were walking across the library, his hand in yours, your hearts beating in silence. 

"How was your appointment?" You asked, shivering in the cold air. You rubbed your palms together, bringing your jacket closer to your chest, huffing the cold air. 

"It was good, much different from what the media portrays. She even showed me this meme she thinks you would like, look." He said, bringing out his phone to show you the saved meme. 

You laughed at his eagerness, kissing his lips as a final gratification. 

"Well it looks like you're having a great time. You have another scene left to do today in the evening so we better scram." You reminded him. 

You always did that, remind him of his schedule, reminded him to take a breath when he felt like he was drowning. You reminded him of home and what he had to look forward to.

"Why can't we have a lazy day today?" He whined, kissing your neck, making you giggle as it tickled. 

"You know you can't do that hun, you already took three days off." You snickered, poking his sides. 

"Well that sucks. I just want to spend my day with my girl, is that too much to ask?" He smiled, kissing your forehead, one hand holding yours, swinging back and forth, the other holding a large cup of coffee in a tight grip. 

You reached to loosen his fingers, taking a sip, slurping loudly, making him laugh. You decided you liked this laugh much better, it was breathy and free, a melody to your ears. 

You noticed how he was more relaxed and back to being that ray of sunshine. Back to being your Tom.

Thanks for reading! also as a side note- here’s a similar fic @itsallyscorner​ !!

[rafesgfs]

side to side

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: In which you're performing your hit single in front of your fellow Avengers cast-mates and Chris can't seem to take his eyes off of you, catching the attention of a few cameras.

"I'm here with the biggest pop-star of this generation, and she plays the very talented daughter of Tony Stark," the interviewer announced your name, smiling brightly at you as the camera panned your way. The hundreds of thousands of fans at home screaming when your face appeared. "How do you feel with all your nominations tonight?"

You smiled at the camera, giving a small wave at the people watching at home. "Honestly, I'm just glad I was even considered for these nominations. I mean, my girls Taylor, and Billie...they're amazing and I'm so happy to be put in the same category as them."

The lady grinned at you, her eyes twinkling. Or maybe it was her sparkly dress, the fabric nearly blinding you with how it shined under the lights. "If you ask me, you've got a pretty good chance at winning. I mean, your hit single—Side to Side—surpassed, like, a billion views in just a month? That's impressive."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without my fans." you replied, winking at the camera.

It was that time of the year again, where every artist, actor, and YouTuber hit the stage for the People's Choice Awards. With your crazy schedule, and the lack of sleep, you had planned to skip the award show until your friend, and co-star, Chris Evans—Captain America himself—convinced you otherwise. Even with the categories you've been nominated for had been more than a handful, but it was the begging and constant complaining from Chris that made you get off your tired ass and put it into a tight dress.

Your hit single, Side to Side, had everyone anticipated for your performance, unsure if you would be performing until the producers had put your name into the advertisement, making fans blow up Twitter. You were sure they had advertised your own song, along with your movie nominations, more than you ever had.

With nominations of Movie of the Year (Avengers: Infinity War), Action Movie of the Year (Avengers: Infinity War), Female Movie Star of the Year (Amara Stark), Female Artist of the Year, Song of the Year (Side to Side), Music Video of the Year (Into You), Beauty Influencer of the Year, and Social Celebrity of the Year, you had your hands full, which had only made your manager glow with happiness.

"Of course!" the interviewer agreed, glancing at the teleprompter filled with tiny words. "It was rumored that you wouldn't be coming, and a lot of us were upset, including me. Was that just a rumor or..."

"Actually, it's not that far off. I'm fucking—oh, shit—oh no!" you gasped, covering your mouth before anymore foul words could come out on live television. Instead of correcting you, the lady laughed, patting your arm softly. "Can't say that on tv. My bad. I, uh, with everything going on, I've been really tired, and I haven't slept in a week. I just wanted to chill, and accept my nominations at home but someone convinced me to come. So, if I say or do anything ridiculous tonight, I'm blaming him and my lack of sleep."

She nodded, clapping slowly. "I think that's fair. Is that someone, your onscreen father, RDJ?"

"He was one of the many people who unsuccessfully changed my mind, but no, it was Chris Evans. He promised me a day with his adorable dog, Dodger, and I couldn't refuse." you said, grinning at how his face had changed from hopeless to cocky as soon as he brought up Dodger.

"If I'm remembering this correctly, Chris Evans is that very handsome man you had kissed in your music video earlier this year. Into You, right? How do you feel kissing one of your co-stars outside of the movies your working on?"

"Technically, it was still acting, and I have kissed him before, so it wasn't awkward at all." you answered, glad Chris had accepted the role. Not only had it sky-rocketed the views and streams, but it made you feel better that it was his lips you were kissing and not a random model's. Yet, it didn't feel as professional as it had before when you pulled away after a take.

In scenes where you had to kiss the Boston actor, it was as professional as kicking Anthony Mackie's ass in Civil War but the kisses you shared on the set of the music video was definitely more personal. At the time, you had brushed it off as Chris being recently single, but now that you had broken up with Henry, you started questioning it again.

The interviewer nodded, squinting once more to read the words off the teleprompter before asking you another question that would certainly make the headlines. "I've been reading up on all those juicy tabloids and I've got one question that would satisfy my curiosity. Was Into You written about Henry Cavill or Tom Ellis?"

Usually, that type of question made you change the subject or altogether avoid the matter but this time, you wanted to joke about your failed engagement. "Henry, but Side to Side was written about Tom since I wanted more Grammy's considering the last album I put out won me a few. But this time, I'm gonna do it without an engagement."

The woman faked a laugh, surprised by the blunt honesty of your answer. "Um, you certainly do have a thing for British men, eh? I don't want to keep you up, but one more thing, for the fans. They've been dying to know if there's anything going on between you and Chris Evans. Any tea you wanna spill?"

"There's none to spill. We're just friends but it's always amusing scrolling through Twitter to find these edits of us." you replied, fidgeting slightly with the hem of your dress. Like usual, you had wondered if you should've worn something less extra but you had let your stylist play dress up with you for the past few months.

"Of course. Well, good luck to you, and I can't wait to see your performance." she said, giving you a little pat on the shoulders before announcing your name once again.

You got off the little platform, immediately taking Chris' awaiting hand, holding onto it as you climbed down the steps in your dangerous stilettos. Sighing, you leaned on him, trying to avoid the blinding camera flashes. "That was more exhausting than I thought it would be. You need to get me some caffeine after this is over because there's no way I'm making it to the after show without at least a few cans of Red Bull."

"So dramatic." Chris grinned, childishly sticking his tongue out as he guided you down the red carpet, stopping when told to take a picture. He let go of your hand, only to wrap it around your waist as you posed for the pictures. "Are you going to the after party?"

Posing seriously for a few seconds, you let your smile back on your face, facing the man beside you. "I was thinking about it, take a few photos, and head back home. Aren't you?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could ditch it and just hang out. You know, I did promise you some time with Dodger and you could waste a couple hours sleeping." he replied, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your waist. Flashing you a shit-eating smirk, he nudged you a little, pulling you away from the blinding flashes. "What do you say?"

You opened your mouth to answer only to be cut off by your manager, Alexandre coming out of nowhere to rip you away from Chris' arms. The latin man sighed in annoyance, glancing at his watch while giving you the look you've seen too many times before. "You're supposed to be in wardrobe right now. Get your ass backstage, and change before you miss your own performance. As for you, Mr. Evans, Megan wants your ass in a chair."

"I'll see you after." you say, getting dragged by your manager, winking at the actor before walking towards the changing area, the cameras following you until they couldn't enter the area.

Getting ready before a huge performance always calmed you down, maybe it was the smell of makeup or the feel of designer clothing made especially for you, but something about it made you feel comfortable and cozy. It was like a routine, especially with all the music videos and movies you had to film, the makeup, the hair.

They made you sit back, giving you your phone like a child while they made you even more sparkly than before, making sure you'd stand out against the flashing lights during the performance. A performance you made sure no one would ever forget. Smiling, you let your thoughts drift back to a certain super soldier as you were pampered.

—

"Welcome to the People's Choice Awards!"

The room darkened, the blue and pinks lights focusing on the stage as cameras all turned towards your shadow. Making sure your mic was set properly, tried to see past the darkness, to see a familiar face or two but with the headache coming on from the tight half-ponytail didn't help your case. The music started, the beat vibrating, you flipped your hair, and started.

"I've been there all night

I've been there all day (Nicki Minaj)

And boy, got me walkin' side to side (Let then hoes know)"

You rode the bike, belting out in your microphone, the attached headset limiting your movements a little. Gripping the handles, you made eye contact at the camera to your left, winking at it as you pedaled.

"I'm talkin' to ya

See you standing over there with your body

Feeling like I wanna rock with your body

And we don't gotta think 'bout nothin'

I'm comin' at ya

'Cause I know you got a bad reputation

Doesn't matter, 'cause you give me temptation

And we don't gotta think 'bout nothin'"

As you had sung, your eyes had adjusted to the bright spotlight focused on you, seeing a shadow of the one person you wanted to make you walk side to side. While you had answered the reporter's question, you hadn't been completely honest. Some of the lyrics had been written for the Bostonian; or to be more exact, your sex fantasies. With the chorus coming up, you let go of the handles, trying not to fall on your ass as you clapped your hands above your head, the claps matching the beat.

"These friends keep talkin' way too much

Say I should give you up

Can't hear them, no, 'cause I..."

Trying to be bold, you stared at him, his face in particular. The spotlight had blinded you so much that you couldn't see what his reaction was—or anyone's for that matter—but maybe it was a good thing. After all, his gaze always made you blush no matter how hard you tried not to. Pedaling faster, you threw your head back, hoping the motion would draw everyone's—Chris'—eyes on your chest.

"I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side

I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side"

With the help of a shirtless dancer, you got off your bike, taking the sheer jacket from him, and putting it on as you walked towards the front of the stage, moving your hips in to the beat of the song. Resting a hand on a shirtless dancer, you positioned yourself so you were grinding your ass against his crotch, throwing back an arm around his neck.

"Been tryna hide it

Baby, what's it gonna hurt if they don't know?

Makin' everybody think that we solo

Just as long as you know you got me

And boy, I got ya

'Cause tonight I'm making deal with the devil

And I know it's gonna get me in trouble

Just as long as you know you got me"

Sashaying to the little balance beam at the front of the stage, you made sure your hips swayed more than usual.

"These friends keep talkin' way too much

Say I should give you up

Can't hear them, no, 'cause I...

"I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side

I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side"

A few seconds after your note ended, you strike a pose on the balance beam, posing for a few more seconds while the cameras turned their attention away from you and onto the queen of rap herself: Nicki Minaj. The leather, pink bodysuit was identical to yours except for the color, her attitude fitting the badass outfit. She began to walk towards the stage, never breaking eye contact with the camera in front of her while the men pretending to work out to the choreo.

"Uh, yeah

This the new style with the fresh type of flow

Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle

Come through yo, get you this type of blow

If you want a ménage, I got a tricycle

All these bitches' flows is my mini-me

Body smoking, so they call me Young Nicki Chimney

Rappers in they feelings 'cause they feelin' me

Uh, I-I give zero fucks and I got zero chill in me

Kissing me, copped the blue box that say Tiffany

Curry with the shot, just tell 'em to call me Stephanie

Gun pop, then I make my gum pop

I'm the queen of rap"

By the time she had finished her verse, you had caught up with the multitasking of both working out and singing, able to use your full singing capabilities for your high note. Nicki joined you on stage, hyping up the crowd while you built up for the high note, almost every camera pointed at you except for the one focused on capturing the headline-worthy expression slapped on Chris' face.

"These friends keep talkin' way too much

Say I should give em up

Can't hear them, no, 'cause I...

"I've been here all night (Been here all night, baby)

I've been here all day (Been here all night, baby)

And boy, got me walkin' side to side (Side to side)

I've been here all night (Been here all night, baby)

I've been here all day (Been here all day, baby) (Ooh, baby)

And boy, got me walkin' side to side (Side to side)"

Both you and Nicki motioned for the dancers to come towards you, curling your index finger at the sexy men. Singing the refrain, you both made them drop to their knees in front of you, as if they were kneeling at your command.

Just as the last note was sung, everyone clapped, the majority standing up, and more cheered. You noticed Chris hadn't done either, still sitting in his motionless while two camera men pointed their cameras at him. Your eyebrows furrowed, thankfully after the spotlight had shifted over to the miniature stage where the two hosts were babbling about nominations.

You were ushered off the stage along with the queen of rap herself, taking a few backstage photos before quickly returning back to your dressing room to change into your tailored dress. Your mind had wandered to why Chris hadn't applauded—not that he was obliged too, but a little something would've nice, especially with all the days put into the performance.

Taking a deep breath, you entered the big room, filled with your co-stars and other A-list celebrities. Little did you know you'd find out the reason to your question in the morning.

—

The loud ringtone woke you up, the sound obnoxious and borderline abuse to your ears. Beside you, Chris groaned, rolling onto his stomach, trying to muffle the sound of the call with his arm draped over his head. Putting him out his misery, you lazily reached for your phone, pressing the green button with dread, seeing the name across the screen.

"Hello—"

"You're trending on Twitter." Alexandre announced, happy with the results of the previous awards show. While it wasn't something as big as a Grammy or Oscar, judging by the amount of awards you had taken home, you became the people's favorite. "Hold on, lemme rephrase that. You and Chris are trending. Number one, world wide."

Glancing at the man sleeping beside you, you sat up, confused by the information given to you. You blamed Chris for making you stay up so late for your confusion. "Um, why? Did I accidentally have another nip slip?"

"What the hell?" Chris mumbled, rolling onto his back, his arm grazing your bare stomach. He immediately took it back, sitting up to look over your puzzled face. "What's going on?"

You shrugged, putting your phone on speaker so Alexandre could explain. Your manager chuckled, knowing you had stayed the night with Chris. He was just waiting for the day you'd finally have the guts to speak about the growing sexual tension. "Okay, Alex, explain."

"As much as I would love to go into full detail, I have other stuff to do so, I'm going to give you the basics. Chris' reaction to your performance went viral, people are shipping the both of you, and there's been thousands of memes made." Alexandre replied, a smile evident in his voice. "Anyways, I have to go. Got some interviews to schedule. Have fun getting your way out of this, Chris."

Your phone screen went back to the home screen, a picture of your family dog, Buster, smiling widely. Looking at Chris, you saw his eyes widened, his hands coming to rest of his face in embarrassment as he fell back onto the bed with a bounce, his head nearly hitting the headboard. "Oh, fuck."

"Are you going to show me what your face looked like or do I have to scroll through Twitter until I find it? Oh! Maybe they edited it in my performance." you thought out load, tapping on the YouTube app. You hadn't trusted yourself enough to log into your official account, knowing you'd probably make a mistake so you opted for having a secondary account where you could watch cat videos without the anxiety of posting something stupid.

Chris' hand snatched your phone away, tucking it in his pocket, the sweats he had slept in was somehow wrinkled, and his shirt damp from the warmth. "You wanna get some food? I'll cook some bacon but you'll have to make the pancakes 'cause the last time—"

"I wanna see your reaction." you whined, reaching across his stomach for your phone. Chris turned his body away from you, shielding the phone from your reach. "Chris!"

He waved your attempt away, rolling off the bed, his feet hitting the floor before you could fall back on the mattress.You poured, getting on all fours, crawling towards the edge. Chris took a step back, brows furrowing. "It's not important. Let's get you some food."

"Fine." you mumbled, an idea making you light up. Rolling off the bed, you glanced at his phone on the nightstand, exposed and easy to take. With quick reflexes, you grabbed his phone, rolling back on the bed until you reached the other side, making it impossible for him to reach for his phone back.

"Hey!" the Bostonian shouted, launching himself on the bed in attempt to get his phone back. He made a noise as you rushed out of your room, locking yourself in the nearby bathroom, laughing evilly when he threw himself at the door. He yelled out your name, his fist banging on the door. "I'm serious! Don't!"

Ignoring his begging, you opened his phone with your thumbprint. How ironic how much he didn't want you to look at his phone when he was the one who insisted you have the password to it. His arguments became louder as you opened up his Twitter, immediately heading to the trending section, seeing both your names at the number one spot.

"Damn, I look hot." you joked out loud, making Chris silent for a second before pleading for you not to continue. You smirked, scrolling through the tweets, trying to find his reaction. "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to you? Did you fall on your face or something?"

Chris groaned, banging his head on the door in defeat as he heard your almost inaudible gasp, that quickly turned into little giggles. If he wasn't so embarrassed, he would've broken the door down to hold you in his arms. "Oh, no."

Bursting out into hard laughter, you fell into the large bathtub, hitting your head on the wall but you couldn't care less. The expression on his face during your performance had been borderline comical, the wide eyes, the jaw hanging open, the open hand resting on his chin while his eyes stayed strained on you the whole time, never wavering from your body, the sexy choreography making his jeans tight.

Cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West, tears ran down your cheeks, your stomach cramping from the maniacal laughter. Lifting yourself up from the tub, you stumbled to the door, your loud laugh ringing out towards the whole house. You let Chris in the bathroom, his phone quickly taken from your hand but it was too late. The blush on his cheeks wasn't going away anytime soon. You leaned against him, your head resting on his chest, while you panted out a question. "Why did you look like you were trying to attract flies in your mouth?"

Chris groaned again, covering his eyes with a hand while the other rested on your back. "You're not going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Oh, God, no." you giggled, wiping the tears away, beginning to calm down. Glancing up at him, you noticed everything above the shoulders was gleaming red, the embarrassment too unbearable for him. "Chris, you looked exactly like the first time we were forced to share a bed together."

"Yeah, you have that affect on me."

"You gonna tell me why you looked so ... shocked? Or do I have to search through Twitter and go with whatever fan theory makes the most sense?" you asked, unable to keep the smug grin off your face. Chris closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't made you come to the awards show in the first place. You raised an eyebrow, fingers itching towards his phone. "You know I'll do it, Evans."

The man raised his hands, taking them off of you as he paced around the bathroom, deciding if this embarrassing moment was the right time to finally confess. "It's just, you know, the dance was so ... sexual and hot that I probably wasn't the only one looking at you like that. You can't exactly blame me for being shocked, watching the girl I'm in love with—"

Chris stopped as you be watched the colors drain out of your face, immediately freezing when he realized what he had said. Both of you stared at each other, eyes wide, not moving a muscle, barely blinking; the atmosphere so tense neither of you were breathing, waiting for the other to talk. But neither of you wanted to go first, terrified.

It wasn't until you started to feel dizzy that you realized you hadn't been breathing, letting out a huge breath, trying to relax while Chris did the same, his hands shaking, a nervous tick he got whenever he was anxious. You got the courage to speak first.

"What?"

It was better than nothing.

Chris was so nervous he nearly ran out of the room. There wasn't some kind of handbook or script he could read, helping him tell one of his best friends how head over heels he was for her. So, he said what his brain was stewing. "What?"

"What—what?" you replied, unsure if he even said the L word, so lightheaded by the sudden confession.

The actor stilled, eyes widening even further, while his eyebrows shot up his forehead. "What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Say what one more time, Evans, and I will make nothing but mac and cheese for the rest of your stay." you threatened softly, getting tired of not having an answer to your one-worded question.

Chris took a deep breath, hands trembling as he clasped them together, hoping to find the right words, hoping his inner thoughts would come out clear, giving you the answer you asked for. "I'm sorry. What do you want me to say?"

"What you were saying before. You know, before you looked like you saw a ghost and almost stopped breathing. I think that would be a good start." you replied, backing up to take a seat on the plush chair. Chris mirrored your actions, putting down the lid to the toilet before sitting down.

"This isn't the way I wanted you to find out." Chris whispered, his blue eyes trained on the emotions that flashed on your face. Your uncertainty of the situation didn't help his anxiety.

"Okay, um, were you going to tell me in the first place?" you asked, playing with the hem of your shirt—it had been a borrowed Patriots shirt from him. Looking back, you realized all the little things he'd done hadn't been because his platonic love for you. "Or were you just going to keep letting it be this way?"

Fidgeting with his hands, Chris peered through his eyelashes, seeing the hurt flash across your face before you quickly composed it. "Scott was hyping me up, trying to convince me to tell you before you got into another relationship. Do you know the real reason I broke up with Jenny? It hurt like hell when you announced you were engaged. Fuck, I couldn't even pretend to be happy because you were going to have the life I wanted with you, with someone who wasn't me. It was selfish and I got really mad at myself for being a dick."

"But—"

"And then the horrible, horrible relief I felt when you called off the engagement." Chris continued, his heart clenching. "Truth to be told, that was the day I found out I was in love with you, breaking things off with Jenny. Of course, I wanted to wait until you moved on, hoping to be the friend you went to but with my schedule, that was impossible. So, you seemed out comfort in Henry fucking Cavill."

"You're in love with me?" you whispered, hoping this wasn't some kind of cruel dream. If it was, you wouldn't mind staying.

The actor nodded, waiting for you to call him names and rush out. "Yes. You can leave or slap me or whatever you want to do but I love you."

You got up, running a hand through your hair. "Okay."

Chris' heart sank, wishing for any other kind of reaction, wishing you'd do something. Taking a deep breath, he got up. "Is this a goodbye?"

Frowning, you walked up to him, taking his face between with your hands, pressing your lips softly to his. You could feel his heart beat, the little organ beating so hard. You pulled away before he could recover from his shock, before he could kiss you back.

"Hello."

[aimeelouart]

Ok I've spent a few months lurking and just being a lil too nervous to ask about The Royal House Perdel, but now that I've read the premise ohmygod I love it. I would pay actual money to read it as a book one day.

WHAT. You’re my favorite now. I love you. Take my firstborn.

Since I assume you’re also here for FF7, have a little gift writing of my protag at age 7 hopping dimensions and interacting with the SSC Firsts.

They should have known something was off when they were able to corner Cloud so quickly, but they definitely figured it out when he started giggling.

“Cloud…?” Sephiroth asked cautiously, crouched a short distance from him.

“Pfft, ahaha, your faces!” He said, pointing and covering his mouth with the other hand. Bright orange-red bled out from the root of his hair, spreading down as the strands lengthened and curled. He grew a little taller, a little ganglier, and his face…

Not his face. That wasn’t Cloud at all, though how the laughing girl had accomplished such an effective disguise was a question for another time.

“Who the hell are you!” Genesis exploded. “Where is Cloud!”

“He’s busy,” the little girl said, breaking off her laughter to stick out her tongue at them. “Meanie. He’s following a Virtue! You can’t interrupt that!”

Sephiroth growled, standing up. “Genesis, with me. Angeal, start a conference call. We will begin where we lost Cloud.” He and Genesis darted off, leaving Angeal with the strange new child.

“Wonderful,” he sighed, pulling out his PHS and doing as Sephiroth had commanded. “Another one.” He caught the girl’s arm when she nonchalantly tried to waltz past him. “And where do you think you’re going?”

She blinked. “That way,” she said, pointing.

“Not when you’ve⁠—is that Cloud’s hair?” There was a tuft of pale golden hair clenched in her hand.

“Duh,” she said, “that’s the rule for the spell. ‘A dear thing, freely given. Closer to the skin, more power riven.’”

Angeal struggled to parse through the bewildering statement. “Because Cloud gave you his hair, you were able to...cast a spell to look like him?” He tilted her arm, looking her over for materia, but saw nothing. “Where’s your materia?”

She blinked at him. “What’s materia?”

He decided to abandon the line of inquiry entirely. “Where are your parents?”

Her expression turned sheepish. She scuffed the toe of her sandal across the concrete. “Umm...Granda’ is gonna come find me soon...I’m probably in trouble.”

For the first time, Angeal noticed the glittering jewels held in the intricate lacework of her sandals. They certainly weren’t materia, but they did tell him that her parents must have been very wealthy. “And why are you in trouble?”

She flushed and looked away. “I’m not s’pposed to go through the Gates…” she mumbled.

“The gates?”

“The Gates Between. The ones that cross the Empty Spaces.” She stared down at her feet, and nervously plucked at the hem of her skirt. “Granda’ can open the Gates cuz he’s Imperator, and I can cuz I’m a Mage but he says I’m too little. I’m not supposed to be here, but...but it was calling me! I had to!” She looked up at him with wide, unnatural golden eyes and a pleading little pout.

He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

⁠—

Genesis took one look at the little redhead sleeping contentedly against Angeal’s shoulder and said “no, no, we already have one, put that back.”

Angeal looked tired and a little defeated, leveling Genesis with an unimpressed glance. With Cloud in the wind, all they could do now was wait for some sign of his whereabouts—probably in the form of demolished ShinRa property. Which left them to deal with everything else for a while instead.

“Believe me,” he said, “I’m not particularly happy about this either. But her parents are impossible to find. She doesn’t exist in any records—and I do mean any records. Even the Turks can’t find anything. And I can’t exactly just leave her with someone.”

Genesis narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“She has...abilities. You saw the disguise earlier, but there’s more.” He looked vaguely disturbed, glancing down at the kid like she was a ticking bomb. “A lot more.”

Sephiroth sighed. “Naturally. That seems to be the theme lately, strange children with inexplicable abilities showing up on our doorsteps.”

Finally, a hint of humor broke through Angeal’s tiredness. “Well, look on the bright side. At least this one actually trusts adults.”

“Too much, if she’s sleeping in your arms two seconds after meeting you,” Genesis scoffed.

“The polar opposite of Cloud,” Sephiroth observed, a little bit of humor entering his tone as well.

Angeal shook his head. “Her parents have the resources to keep her very sheltered, from what I’ve gathered. She seems to think that all adults are inherently trustworthy, especially if they, and I quote here, ‘look like they belong in Mama’s First Legion.’”

Genesis and Sephiroth both paused.

“That...makes it sound as if her parents have a personal militia at their disposal,” Genesis said.

“Yeah,” Angeal agreed wryly, “it does, doesn’t it?”

—

She was like a spot of sunshine in the interview room—not an interrogation room, though it did have a one-way mirror and an attached observation space—beaming up at Tseng as she sat on her knees in the chair across from him. Unsurprisingly, the Turks hadn’t exactly had a booster seat handy with their typical interview equipment.

“What’s your full name?” Tseng asked, soft and polite. It was only Angeal’s familiarity with the young man that allowed him to detect the very slight edge of unease in his smile.

Angeal could understand. It wasn’t often that even he was presented with such unconditional trust and guileless curiosity, and the Turks certainly must have experienced it much less.

The little girl opened her mouth and proceeded to deliver an extremely well-rehearsed answer. “Ameliora Octavia, First Mage of the House Perdel, Blessed of the Thirteen,” she rattled off cheerfully, “Crown Princess and heir to the Perdelesian Throne, granddaughter of the Virtuous Emperor Celsus Caesar Perdel and the Virtuous Empress Julia Atossa Perdel, daughter of Caius Julius Perdel, High King of the West, and Fera Tullia Perdel, High Queen of the East.” She gasped in a breath, having spent her entire lung capacity on the extended answer. “You can call me Lora, though, I don’t mind.” She resumed beaming at him.

Even Tseng didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Then Lora frowned abruptly. “Oh wait, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Tseng managed to get ahold of himself. “Why is that, Lora?”

She looked up at the ceiling as if trying to remember something. “Granda says that, uh, if I’m ever with strangers I’m supposed to...uhm...tell them ‘Lora’ but nothing else and wait until one of the Praetorians comes to get me.”

“I see. Lora, do you know where you are?”

“Nope!” she said, apparently unbothered by this fact.

“Do you know how you got here?”

“Uh-huh, I opened the Gate in the Archive because it was calling to me in the Strings, and then I walked the Empty Spaces until it felt right and now I’m here.”

Angeal glanced discreetly at the other Turks in the observation room. None of them seemed to know what the hell she was saying either, which was very reassuring.

Tseng looked like he wanted to sigh but restrained himself. “Do you know how to get back home?”

For the first time, Lora flushed crimson and ducked her head. “Umm...nooo…”

“No?”

“‘S why I’m gonna be in trouble...I know how to walk through the Empty Spaces but I dunno how to walk back yet…Granda will come find me, though.”

“How will he know where to find you?”

She blinked at him, and for a moment her unnatural golden eyes glowed like they had a SOLDIER’s mako gleam. “Granda will always find me,” she said. “He swore on the Thirteen the day I was born. ‘Sides, I’m a Mage. Magistra Mara says I look like a supernova when she uses the Strings to see me.” She smiled. “I’m hard to miss.”

“I see,” said Tseng, which was a bald-faced lie. “How old are you, Lora?”

“Seven and a quarter,” she said very seriously.

—

“Hey.” A little hand tugged on the bottom of his jacket and Reno practically jumped out of his skin. Shiva, it was the tiny unnatural demon child. With trepidation, he half-turned and looked down at her.

She was beaming up at him like he’d just given her the best gift in the world. He was absolutely certain that if he picked her up she would snuggle into his arms without a second thought.

It was hands-down the creepiest fucking thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“What,” he bit out, anxious to get away without looking like he was getting away. He could feel Rude laughing at him silently.

“C’mere,” she said, motioning him down. Reno glanced at her babysitter of the hour—Hewley—whose mako eyes promised death if he dared to scare or upset her. Reno weighed the odds for a long second and then slowly crouched.

Immediately, she buried her hands in his hair and started petting and patting, a puzzled little furrow to her brows. “Hey,” he said, jerking back a little, “what do you think you’re doing!”

“I’ve never seen hair like this,” she responded, peering closer.

“You have red hair,” he pointed out, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He could kill her a dozen ways with barely a flick of his hand and she was playing with his hair?

It was unnatural!

“Nuh-uh, my hair’s gold-red and and curls. Yours is all sticky-uppy and looks like an apple.”

“Well, that’s just how it was when I was born!”

“Oh. Huh.” Apparently that was enough for her. She released his hair and looked to Rude instead and Reno felt exactly zero shame for how fast he got up and moved out of range of her creepy, sunshiny eyes.

She motioned Rude down in the same way. He went, a lot more willingy than Reno had, even though Reno knew for a fact that is partner was also pretty fucking creeped out by her. All the Turks were. There was no one—no one—who had ever treated them with such unconditional trust. The little princess was genuinely happy to see them. Even Tseng was freaked out. Even Veld was, though he took it in stride like he did everything else.

Lora plucked the sunglasses right from Rude’s face and put them on. Her mouth made a little ‘o’ of surprise.

“Why would you want dark glass over your eyes?” She asked, holding them in place and looking around curiously.

Without missing a beat, Rude pulled a spare set of sunglasses out of his suit pocket and put them on. Lora giggled. Reno shamelessly abandoned his partner and speed walked away.

—

“Hello, my dear.”

Lora looked up, blinking at the strange man who’d addressed her. “Hello,” she said cheerfully. She was, technically, breaking the rules by wandering around like this, but she was just so curious. There were so many strange things in this place! And sometimes breaking the rules led to wonderful things, like coming here.

“Would you like to see something interesting?”

She gasped in delight. “Yes! What is it?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you,” he said, offering a hand. She took it without hesitation. It was weirdly cold. The man reminded her of her uncle Brutus, who stared at her all the time and Mama always glared at. Uncle Brutus was weird.

She remembered that she actually had to introduce herself here, because people didn’t automatically know her name. “I’m Lora, what’s your name?” she said.

The man smiled. “You can call me Professor Hojo, my dear.”

[Part 2]

[lovetheplayers]

Taylor's interview with Ryan Seacrest on 102.7 KIIS FM (April 30, 2019)

Ryan: That is new music from Taylor Swift called ME! Brendon Urie there too on 102.7 KIIS fm. Just announced that Taylor will be at Wango Tango and look at the phone ringing. It’s Taylor Swift. Good morning, Taylor.

Taylor: Oh, hi. Good morning.

Ryan: How are you doing?

Taylor: I'm so good, and it's so good to talk to you. Yeah, the new song and video are out and it just feels really great to have such amazing feedback from the fans and have them combing through the video trying to figure out details.

Ryan: Taylor, Taylor, Taylor, you are like the brainteaser the teacher would give me in school. There’s all these, I mean, I know they call them Easter eggs but, like, it’s there’s almost too much for me to decipher, you know?

Taylor: Yeah. There's so, so, so many little clues in the video and some are clues that are immediately revealed to them and then there’s kind of different levels to the crypticness. Like, some of these—some of the symbolic references they’ll understand in, like, a couple months and then some they’ll get, like, when they really go through the album. Like, some are lyric references. I’s just the whole thing. But it’s really fun to put that stuff together because I’ve been doing stuff like this for like 15 years on my first album. I started off with capitalizing letters in my lyric book and then when people put together those letters it spells out a code. so they liked it, so I kept doing it.

Ryan: But just to understand the DNA here of your brain: so do you—you’re obviously very clever, but do you ever say, "Okay I’m gonna go obvious because they’re gonna think I’m being clever so I’ll go counter-intuitively backwards." Because I’m trying to figure out some things for this next album. I need to know the answer to that.

Taylor: Yeah, definitely. It takes a lot of planning and really, like, it's just basically a flex on planning. Like, this is how far ahead I planned this album. But it’s also just a way for it to become more of a—more of an experience rather than just.. I think that so often music can just be so ephemeral these days. Like, it comes out and we talk about it for, like, a second and then we move on to the next thing. And I think it’s fun for us to create an event and kind of put an experience back into just, you know, a song or a video. That’s what I’m trying to do is make it more more fun for them to talk about it and think about it. And they’re awesome about it, so I guess as long as they have fun with it I’ll keep doing it.

Ryan: So we’ve got Lover. You said awesome—you just said awesome, wait. Did you just—Tell me, does the title of the album rhyme with possum?

Taylor: I'm definitely going to tell them everything about the album in due time.

Ryan: Does it rhyme with saleidoscope? So you’re going to be opening the Billboard Awards which is very exciting.

Taylor: It's exciting. I've been in rehearsals all week. It’s really, really exciting. It’s also so much fun with this song because the song is so—it's just such a celebration and it's just so playful and mischievous, so that's been one of the most fun elements of creating the performance.

Ryan: Well the video has had, I mean, 65, 70 million views and our own Tanya was very excited to—I am not a good mover. I don’t know if you know that about me so I couldn’t partake in the dancing that she did. I think that you commented on it.

Taylor: Oh, yeah I commented on it. It was like the most adorable thing ever. That's like a really, really nice house you're in.

Tanya: I have to say I have listened to this song on repeat, literally, I think I’ve, and I’m not even exaggerating, a thousand times.

Taylor: Really?!

Tanya: Yes, Taylor. It is so fantastic. I feel like everything is right in the world again because we have new music from you and, like, I’m living through it and I just feel like I’ve been living through your music for so many years now and every single time you come out with something it, like, speaks to me at that moment and I’m just so grateful for ME! I just feel like it’s the perfect song for right now.

Taylor: Thank you so much for saying that. That means a lot. That’s so, so sweet of you to say. And literally, like, my heart just, like, starts beating so fast when people say things like that because I think the main purpose of this song—like, when I thought of this melody I was like, "Okay, this is one of those melodies that, like, we could do so much with this, and it’s so catchy that, like, what do we want to get stuck in people's heads?" And what I wanted was to make people happy about themselves because I think right now there’s just such—literally everyone is so—we’re all just so neurotic and insecure and and anxious about things, you know, and I think that we can, you know, I think there should be, like, a way for us to kind of, like, have a song stuck in our head that reinforces the fact that we're individuals. We’re different. And obviously there are a lot of songs about "I'm special", but I hadn’t heard one recently that was about "I’m special because it’s who I am", you know? There are examples where you can find someone being like, "I’m special because of how I look"; "I’m special because of what I can buy" or whatever, and there’s definitely a place for those songs, but I think there’s also a place for a song that’s like "No, it’s Who I am. it’s intrinsically my individuality that makes me a irreplaceable and not anything else." So thank you so much for saying that.

Ryan: You should know that Wango Tango—Taylor is going to be there. This is her first Wango Tango. She's done Jingle Ball but not Wango Tango. And there was there was a young student that lives in Iowa, Taylor, that called in to this show a few weeks ago and she just said that, like, she is trying to do her own show there for a college radio station and she listens to this show on a regular basis and she called in to say that and, you know, it was great. And then I said, "Well, if there’s one person that you and your town of—I think it’s Dubuque, Iowa—if there’s one person that you would want to ask a question to who would it be?" And she said your name and at the time I wasn’t sure if we’d talk to you—I was hoping we would. And I said, "If we ever get her on the line I’d love to patch you together to ask her one question." And she’s on the phone. Could I let her ask you something?

Taylor: Yeah, of course.

Ryan: Audrey?

Audrey: Hey, Ryan? How's it going? Hey, Taylor!

Taylor: Hey, Audrey!

Audrey: It's such an honor to talk to you! I don’t know if you remember me but I reached out to you when I was in high school when I did high school radio and you were busy playing on the Red Tour, which by the way was awesome. I’ve seen three of your concert tours. But yeah, It's been a crazy journey with my radio stuff. I’m a student at Loras College which is a small private school in Iowa and honestly right now it’s raining and you’re brightening up my day, seriously.

Taylor: Aw, congratulations on everything with your radio show. That’s awesome.

Audrey: So I have a question for you. I think a lot of people want to know it. What are you the most proud of in your career? Your career is—your lucky number, 13 years now and you’re about to put out another album. What is the one thing that just stands out to you that you're the most proud of?

Taylor: Oh, wow, that is—that’s a good question. That is such a good question. I think that—I think that what I’m proud of is having a consistent, really wonderful relationship with the fans who have put me here getting to do the job that I love because I think that reminding—you know I don’t ever have to be reminded. I’m reminded every single day; you guys are literally the only reason why I get to do something that I love so much and I think that a lot of the time people can lose sight of what got them where they are and I think that that’s something that every every day since I started doing this I made sure to, like, remind myself you never ever forget the people who got you here. So thank you for saying that.

Audrey: I will say that when I took my aunt and my mom to the first Chicago show of the Reputation Tour, the one thing that really stood out to the three of us, like, the minute we walked into Soldier Field was the engagement from your merch stand to the videos that you would see to the pre-show playlist. You had everything planned out.

Taylor: Thank you so much for noticing the planning! You have no idea how happy that makes me because, like, I really feel like we have the opportunity to create, like, a party. Like, when we plan it we try to plan every single element of a person’s day and so that just—like, that’s validation. Like, you have no idea. I really appreciate you saying it.

Audrey: I also will say when you played Our Song—I was sitting there sitting in the second across from the B-stage and when you said, "This is a song I wrote in ninth grade," I looked at my mom and I was, like, "Oh my god, this is the one song that I haven't heard yet."

Ryan: Audrey, you are the best. Thank you so much.

Taylor: You are the best.

Audrey: I also wanna ask Taylor. I'd love for you to listen to my show if you want to. I can definitely send the link to Ryan and I'll play any song you want. I was listening to your video blog from, like, over the years, and I was like, "I know a playlist for Taylor."

Ryan: I will make sure that we get her the link. Alright, Audrey?

Audrey: Okay, I love you Taylor. You're the best! Bye, Audrey.

Taylor: Good luck with everything.

Ryan: Oh, my god. That was just—that's what it's about, right? Isn't that what it's about?

Taylor: She's the best.

Ryan: Thank you so much for calling today. We will see you June 1st at Wango Tango, and we'll be following the puzzle, so.

Taylor: You guys better cater the whole day for them. You better pick a pre-show playlist and all that stuff.

Ryan: I know. You're making me feel complacent.

Taylor: Thanks for much for talking to me and for everything over the years. You've always been such a great friend and, yeah, I'll see you at Wango Tango. I'm really excited.

Ryan: We are too. You're the best, Taylor. Thank you again. See you soon.

Taylor: Thanks, guys, and thanks for the dance video.

[potato-with-hair]

Best Laid Plans

"Seriously, Bucky Barnes, 6 foot tall, moody, barely smiles and grunts or gives one-word answers, that Bucky Barnes? Don't you think you are aiming a bit low? All I'm saying is that you are beautiful and could have most any guy in the city. What's his name? That sexy European actor in the movie about the spy who sleeps with all those pretty women? He insisted on meeting you and even suggested flying you to Morocco to meet him on the set of his next film. Wanda told me she and Vis saw him talk about it in an interview last week. Last week, the drummer of that rock band you like called her to see if you would be free in June when they come to town. Are you really telling me that you would give that up for Barnes?” Natasha looked at you like you had a second head sprouting from your neck.

"Yes Nat, let me explain. Wanda has Vis, you and Steve are getting serious, Tony has Pepper, Thor has Jane, hell even Peter has MJ and they are barely through puberty. I'm not saying civilians aren't good to go on dates with, but do you remember what it was like to explain to them you are taking off in the middle of a dinner or romantic weekend because Hydra just assassinated a dignitary or some small country you can't tell them the name of is under attack by alien robots? That is not a conversation you want to have. I also have to remind you how it feels to date someone whom you end up abandoning just when things are getting hot and heavy because your team needs you?"

"After the last time, I swore I was done with civilians, and if that's the case, then we are down to Pietro, Barnes, Lang, Strange, and Sam. Anyway, you are making Bucky out to be some sort of psychopath, he’s not, his crazy matches my crazy just fine.” You smile at Nat slyly. Secretly, you really had a thing for the dark, brooding former soldier. You would not admit to Natasha right out, but Barnes had definitely guest-starred in a few of our more provocative dreams.

I really wanted to get backstage passes for the tour, and Steve and I were thinking about traveling with you to Morocco. I mean Barnes has been here for almost 7 months and I've never seen him bring a woman back with him. However, Steve tells me he used to be some hot shot with the ladies before the war. As far as we know, unless Hydra brainwashed him, he's at least capable of the relationship/sex thing. I've seen him watch you quite a bit, and even Rogers said he couldn't seem to go all out when sparring with you. So I am pretty sure that I have something that will catch his attention." Nat leaned across the counter to you and began to tell you what she had in mind.

*** A Few Days Later***

In the compound, you'd hold movie nights whenever there was enough of the team around. Nat enjoyed introducing Steve to all of the movies and music he missed while he was frozen since they spent so much time together. As you noticed, Bucky would often tag along with Steve and sometimes Sam and would just quietly observe what was happening, never participating. You had asked him a few times about what life was like before the war or anything in general. You asked him how it was growing up in Brooklyn. His answers would seem introspection and short, and then he would get quiet, but he always seemed to want to say more. It was frustrating, but you assumed it was just because he didn't trust you yet or didn't like you. Nat arranged the seating so that you were not sitting next to Bucky, but directly in his line of sight during that particular movie night.

You came in your yoga pants and a hoodie that was really too big for you, before the film started. While you waited for the film to begin, you placed your drink on the table. After the movie started, you got up, said you were too warm, unzipped the hoodie, and took it off. The only thing underneath was a sports bra. At least once or twice you caught Bucky checking you out, but so were Sam, Scott, and Pietro. Nat caught your attention and signaled to you again after another 20 minutes or so. After pulling the hoodie onto your lap, you pulled out an 8-inch-long lollipop shaped like a unicorn horn from an inside pocket.

Wanda, Natasha, and you laughed when you noticed it because it was very obvious what it was modeled after. However, you thought at the time if this didn't put ideas into Barnes' mind, nothing would. There was a general lack of interest in the film among the men in the room. As they checked what you had and what you intended to do with that lollipop, you could see that they were curious. When Nat pointed out that if Steve knew what was good for him, he would pay attention to the movie, his eyes shot forward and he seemed to forget everything but the screen in front of him.

Then you slowly worked your tongue around the tip of the sweet, moving it past your lips and into your mouth, sucking on a few inches, pulling it out again, and running your tongue along the twists in the candy. Guys who had been watching you with a side-eye had given up and now blatantly stared at you. Even Barnes was affected by your impromptu performance. As he breathed a bit heavily, he was flushed, and you could also tell that he was also feeling a bit hot in the room. Actually, the temperature suddenly seemed to be too warm for a lot of guys. You were glad Tony, Bruce, Clint, Thor, and Peter Parker were not there to witness this spectacle. Each of them felt like Uncles, Brothers, or, in the case of Peter, too damn young to see the implications of what was taking place. Bucky was not interested in being social with you; instead, you had to get his attention. The sweet was worked directly into your mouth and down towards your throat as you looked Bucky directly in the eyes. As a final touch, you backed up your simulation with a loud slurp and a trickle of saliva from your bottom lip. You quickly wiped the saliva away with your finger and focused on the task at hand, your gaze never leaving his.

Pietro watching all the while made a drawn out moaning whiny sound; Sam just saw where you were looking and turned to Pietro, "Sonic, that performance was not for you; you'd better get her out of your mind quickly."

I love you guys, Y/N I love you the most." Bucky spun around to look at Scott, giving him a stare that most likely came from his Winter Soldier days, and Scott responded, "We love you too, don't ever doubt it." Scott smiled widely.

Afterward, he turned to you and shot you a carnal glare before leaving the room. Well, you thought that was a bust, you were disappointed, but looked at the guys still watching you in anticipation of your next act. Since the mood was dead and the object of your desire had just left, you looked at everyone, placed the Lolly in your mouth, and bit off the top two inches. Nat laughed, and everyone turned back to the movie, occasionally glancing at you in case you were planning to perform the same act for another team member. Nat slid across the couch she was sharing with Steve and told you not to worry, she had other things on her mind. Nat told you that Steve had revealed that Bucky had mentioned feeling more comfortable talking to you recently. According to Bucky, you are by far the prettiest "dame" he has seen in a very long time. So that's all good.

I just deep-throated a lollipop while staring him in the eyes, and he got up and left the room. That's not what most guys do when they're interested in a girl. As you shook your head feeling stupid, "I think I'm about to turn in for the night, and I don't want to wait until the end of the movie to have to face the guys." You hugged her goodnight and started walking to the sleeping quarters on the 4th floor feeling like a complete failure and an idiot on top of that. Upon entering your room, you immediately headed to the kitchenette area found in all of the sleeping quarter suites. Bypassing the formalities of a glass, you sipped the wine straight from the bottle. Then you put the bottle back and laid your forehead against the refrigerator. You were trying to convince yourself that women have done dumber things to impress guys, but you were feeling like the dumbest woman in New York. Once you reached your bedroom, you threw your hoodie on the sofa and made your way towards the en suite bathroom. You planned on taking a bubble bath and relaxing or drowning yourself in it, but you still had not decided which.

FRIDAY turned on the nightstand lights only when you walked into your room. Because you programmed the lights this way, you did not have to look at your full shame in the mirror next to your bed. Then you headed to your closet to get a bath bomb and a clean towel for your long soak. As you were debating how to handle tonight's small faux pas, deciding whether to blame bad edibles or a mild stroke, a voice on the other side of the room, between two bookcases on your reading bench, caught your attention. He sat there, staring at you like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve; his sapphire-hued eyes tracking your every move.

“So what was the story with the lollipop during the movie?" He asked, uncertain of how to describe your performance downstairs. "Was that just a mid-movie snack or was that a really bad subliminal message for someone? Because it sure got everyone's attention, I haven’t seen that room quiet down so fast." A chuckle escaped his lips as he played with your obvious discomfort.

"Is Sergeant Barnes in my room and making a joke?" You ask skeptically. Should I alert the newspapers and all the media that Barnes is actually holding a conversation of more than one or two words? I just don't know what I was thinking," you said, sitting on your bed with your face in your hands, "that was such a terrible idea, and I should not have listened to anyone's advice, and I apologize if I embarrassed you even a fraction as much as that embarrassed me," and when you removed your hands and looked again, he was sitting on your bed next to you, and you jump, since you never heard him move across the room. "Someone should put a bell on you; you are way too quiet for your own good."

"Everyone in this place would probably be surprised how much I hear and how often I am around, but you never see me. Who told you that was a clever idea? I was wondering, whose attention were you trying to get? He just looks at you curiously, and perhaps a touch hopeful. “I think I have feelings for someone here, but they don't really acknowledge me or say too much about it, so I wonder if I should pursue them further. Apparently, someone thought that would be a good way to get their attention, and, um, yeah.” You gave him a charming smile and glanced between his eyes and lips quickly. I'm not really sure they're interested, because while everyone else was interested, the "target" got up and walked away, so," you looked down again feeling silly.

Would it surprise you to hear that the "target" was beyond interested in you, and had been trying to talk to you for the past couple of months, but every time they get ready to talk to you, some Hollywood pretty boy gets on TV or makes some big declaration about their attraction to you? Steve told me that a band has named a tour after you just so they can attract your attention? Bucky looked at his shoes now. "I can't compete with that." "You are amazing, so why would you want someone like me?" I get it. I am broken, but you deserve much better. Steve has been telling me to just talk to you, but I'm too nervous about doing the wrong thing. Trying to find something to say to you feels like trying to talk to an angel. Could I possibly have something worthwhile to say to you?”

Barnes, are you kidding me? We are all damaged and broken here, in case you didn't notice. I don't think there is anything wrong with you. You are not defined by your past; if that were the case, well... "I wasn't always as cool and smooth as tonight," you said as you rolled your eyes and knocked your shoulder into his while smiling at him. You could hear him chuckling as he glanced at you.

The reason I left the room earlier was because I would have snapped, thrown you over my shoulder, and I would've taken you to the nearest bedroom: how you behaved in Stark's movie room, the thoughts I had while watching you, I haven't had those thoughts for more than 80 years" Bucky looked down again, but you noticed a slight blush starting.

In one smooth motion, you twisted, stood, and straddled him without even thinking. It looks as though he was surprised and rather pleased to find himself beneath you and laid out on your bed before he could even realize what was happening. With the move that surprised both of you, it was as if the flood gates had opened, and you were both desperate for each other. You were stopped for a moment, Bucky stared at you closely. "Do you want this?" he asked. "My interest in this isn't one-night-only. I don't want to see you run off with some Hollywood guy or the next guy who thinks they're Frank Sinatra reincarnated. It would completely break my heart if what I hope is about to happen actually happens. Then you'll move on to someone else the next day.”

You look him in the eyes and whisper, "I don't know what the future holds, but this is what I want, have wanted for quite some time." "I have no intention of leaving." You have me, if you want me. Just because they say they are interested doesn't mean they are. Most of them are so in love with themselves that they only want me for PR."

"I don't want you for PR, I just want you for you--and I really, really want you." Bucky then rolled you under him and with his Vibranium hand he held both of your wrists above your head. Then he proceeded to kiss, lick, and suck his way from your mouth to your jaw to your chest. Your breasts were released from your sports bra with his flesh hand, and he gave them the full attention they deserved. While you were chanting his name like a prayer, you circled your hips in order to create friction where it was needed most.

"I did offer to show you some skills I thought might be of interest to you, so let's get started. Sergeant, get those pants off and let me get a bit more naked myself. I've been fantasizing about this for months now," you tell him with a seductive smile as you slip off the bed and begin to take off the bra completely and the pants, leaving only some red lacy underwear. Bucky's belt and pants couldn't be removed fast enough, leaving him in some boxer shorts that didn't leave much to the imagination. He and Rogers became super-sized everywhere after the serum was injected into them. Though he couldn't tear his eyes away from your tits and your ass in those lacy panties, you made him lie flat on his back. Taking off his underwear, and exposing his hard cock with Cowper's fluid leaking liberally, got his attention fast.

You kneeled between his legs and grabbed a firm hold of his cock, sucking on the bulbous head and licking the clear fluid from the tip. Bucky closed his eyes and rested his head on your pillow, letting loose a torrent of vile words you had never heard him say before. As you shortened his length with each bob down and added more suction with each pull up, he tugged at your hair and fisted it. As Bucky was restraining himself from thrusting into your warm, wet mouth, you continued to treat his stiff cock like the most delicious lollipop you had ever enjoyed. When you backed away from him for a moment, you told him, "I have a really mild gag reflex, so if you want to fuck my mouth, go right ahead, Sergeant." Bucky almost came when he heard you say that.

In spite of not using his full power, he took full advantage of the offer. He started to thrust further into your mouth, using your suctioning and licking to push him to the edge. As you put some pressure on the thin skin right beneath his balls with your hand, the balls pulled upward toward his body, getting ready to spill. By massaging his perineum, you turned the orgasm dial to 11. He spilled into your mouth for nearly a full 10 seconds, and when he had recovered from that orgasm, he looked at you as if he just saw God.

“What was that?” he asked wide-eyed, breathing heavily. A woman had never done that to me before. I swear to you, if you do that again, I'll never leave you, and you'll never leave this bed." You could see the aftershocks coursing through his body, similar to aftershocks after an earthquake.

"Men have G-Spots too, and I'll show you how to use them and other places later." You slide up his body to kiss him, and he quickly tells you that another benefit of the Serum is its fast refraction time. Already, he is becoming harder. After almost 80 years, he says that waiting has been worth it because you are the most amazing, sexy, incredible woman he has ever met. Almost all of the next few hours were spent in bed, except for a trip to the kitchen to re-hydrate. This ended with Bucky holding you up by your thighs, while your calves and ankles were wrapped securely around his waist. He also fucked you against every possible surface in your kitchen. Around 5am, you both fell into an exhausted sleep.

Bucky was the first to wake up and after using the bathroom he returned to watch you sleep again. Shortly thereafter, you felt Bucky's hands running over your shoulders and face softly, and your hair being pushed away from your face. Since you had partially hidden your face in the pillow, he didn't notice you were awake. However, you silently observed him treating you like a fragile doll. You felt yourself opening your heart to him and the possibility of falling in love with him as he treated you with nothing but care and tenderness.

You don't know what will happen today or tomorrow, but for right now, you are happy to give everything you have to the man in front of you, and you plan to tell him that, as soon as you show him the secret you learned about the back of the knees being an overlooked erogenous zone with nerve endings that will have him ready for the next round (You lost count of how many you were up to now,) within moments. A former assassin and a spy, this could definitely work, and you couldn't wait to find out.

[feathersandblue]

What makes you convinced that Silver didn't shoot Flint? I've seen arguments for both theories, and everyone seems to think that Flint is dead though eventhogh we never saw a body (no body = no death). Do you listen to fathoms deep? Daphne and Liz are pretty insightful and they seemed to be pretty sure Flint is dead.

Same anon here. Also, Toby Stephens apparently said on twitter that it is an open ending…. I guess I simply don’t know what to think.

Oh, Jesus. I had kinda hoped I wouldn’t get this kind of question. I’ve listened to Fathoms Deep, and I’ve also seen Stephens’ tweet, and I’ve read tons of interviews of the writers stating that the ending was real, and tons of reviews pointing out that the ending was ambiguous, and I’ve seen losts of post listing reasons for why they believed Flint was dead … 

It’s a bit of a mess at this point, which seems to have been the intended outcome. 

Well, @blacksailsstarz, congratulations. 

What a bit of washed-out colors, an overdose of sunshine, and a cleverly cut scene in the woods can do to a fandom, it’s truly impressive. You pulled quite a number on us.

Anyway, I guess I have to do this, if only for myself, so here we go. 

Why I believe that Silver’s story about Flint’s ending is true. 

1. The showrunners have confirmed that theyhad intended to bring back Thomas for a long time, and repeatedlyreferred to the rule of “no body, no confirmed death” in recent interviews.Which, in turn, implies that Thomas as we see him on screen is real and not simply ahallucination. 

2. We saw the cold open, which wasframed as a flashback, but not as a part of anyone’s narration ormemory. That makes it a true scene, one that really happened. It’s tied to the snippet of Max’ and Silver’s conversation about thatestate through the “Previously on Black Sails” montage.Which makes it a direct follow-up to that scene. No ambiguity there.

3. We saw that scene of Flint belingdelivered to the exact same compound, with the exact same people, andand we saw that reunion scene with Flint and Thomas.

That scene existed.

The events therin existed.

It follows that this scene has a placewithin the narrative of Black Sails.

I’d argue it has to be either:

a) Silver’s story, based on his ownimagination,

b) Flint’s hallucination of his own death,

c) the metaphorical version of Flint’soff-screen death,

d) a real flashback that showswhat actually happened, with a heavily metaphorical aspect to it which reflects Silver’s narrative about the end of Captain Flint and thereawakening of James McGraw, which has been heavily alluded to in earlier seasons.

So which one is it?

Now, whenever this show included memories orhallucinations before, the writers were very careful and good at onlyfilling these scenes with details that the characters who wereremembering or hallucinating them knew. 

It holds true for Vane’s visions ofEleanor, where everything Eleanor said was what Vane had beenthinking about himself.

It holds true for every singleflashback of season one and two, from the scene on the Maria Aleyneto the scenes in London. For the London storyline, the events weretied to either Miranda or Flint, and we only saw  scenes in which atleast one of them had been present. The Maria Aleyne, we got fromMorley’s point of view, then later from Gates’ resp. Flint’s. There’sa second-hand flashback when Silver tells Max about the scouts Flinthad sent to the beach to watch the Urca gold, with the Spanishsoldiers dying. 

It holds true for Flint’s hallucinations of Miranda, which werealso full of details and images he knew. His mind did not create a newvirtual environment in any of these. 

Unless the writers have entirely changed their modus operandi for the final episode, it stands to reason that the same rules would apply to Flint’s ending as well.  

Which leads me to the conclusion that:

a) If the reuninon scene had beenSilver’s imagination, and nothing more, then neither the interior ofthe compound, nor the people in it, nor Thomas, should have lookedthe way they did simply because Silver had never seen them. 

If it hadbeen nothing but Silver’s story, it would have made more sense tosimply have Silver recount it, as was the show’s habit with stories –Spaniard named Vasquez, the hanged pirates of Charles Town, the bird that was dinner, and so on. But if it had only been a fabrication, if, in fact, Flint’s delivery to Savannah had never happened, the setting would notmatch the scene in the cold open in such great detail.

b) The same applies to the idea thatthe reunion scene would be Flint’s imaginary version/hallucination of his owndeath. Flint has never seen that place in Savannah, he coudn’thave imagined it like that. He also would not have imagined Thomasbeing older or bearded, simply for lack of reference.

c) If the reunion scene is meant to bea metaphorical version of his death, including a version of ahappy afterlife, then a couple of things don’t add up. For one, an important element is missing, and that’sMiranda. And again, If they had meant to indicate something like paradise forFlint, there is very little reason to depict it as a labor camp inSavannah that has no relevance to Flint at all – without Miranda,but with a bearded Thomas. In short, the reunion scene was lackingeverything one should expect of an actual afterlife, and had all the signs of being tied strongly to the show’s reality and present.

Also, for both version b) and c): if thatscene was meant to be a visualitation of Flint’s actual death, thereare various details that simply don’t fit.

The scene shows Flint cleaned up, hisscratches and injuries older and scabbed over, but not entirelyhealed. This indicates that time has passed between the scene in thewoods and his arrival at the field. 

If the scene was meant as a codedversion of Flint’s off-screen death, we’re also lacking a cause ofdeath. The most popular theory says that Flint was killed bySilver’s gunshot. But if his arrival at the plantation is thecrossing of the threshold, where is the deadly wound that caused it? All other wounds are still visible and he’s wearing thesame clothes. Moreover, if it was Silver’s gun shot that was his end,why are Hands and Morgan delivering him into the realm of deathinstead of Silver? Or if they have killed him on Silver’s behalf,where are his other injuries?

So these are things that I simply can’t dismiss, things that, for me, are a clear argument against any of these explanations. 

The fourth one, on the other hand…

d) If the reunion is real, but framedand filmed in a way that there is a metaphorical aspect to it as well, thenit shows us the real events, coded heavily in a way that tiesback to greek mythology – symbolizing the death of Flint, anddelivering the happy ending to James McGraw’s personal Odissey all at once. Itmakes sense to shoot it with a different filter, it makessense to have the actual way from the gate to the end of the tunnel be accompanied by Silver’s narration, and it makes sense for Silver’s narration to stop at some point because the actual reunion is no longer a part of it. 

Silver talks about the reawakening of the man who came before. That part of his story ends when Flint steps out into the sunshine. But because Silver doesn’t really know what went on in that estate - he can be seen lurking in the background while Hands and Morgan accompany Flint in - it would be a part of the story that Silver has not been witness to, meaning that he has nowords to accompany it. That particular scene is not narrated by Silver, but if the hole story only existed in Silver’s mind, why would the story stop there, and not recount how happy Flint looked when finally reunited with Thomas? 

“And when he saw Thomas - Madi, when he saw Thomas, he looked as if he was finally at peace. For the first time I knew him, he seemed well and truly happy.” 

Silver’s words about Flint recounted what he knew, and the change he, personally, had witnessed in Flint. Meanwhile, what we saw on screen was a flashback playing out, one that, since it was true and real, extended beyond what Silver could tell us.

4. We know that Silver did not wantto kill Flint. It was not his intention to kill Flint. Heexplicitly states that he would stand there and talk until Flintaccepted the outcome. If he had intended to kill Flint, nothing wouldhave stopped him from doing so once Flint had stated that thetreasure would stay in the ground.

Instead Silver states, explicitly, thathe has made arrangements, and that he has ensured that “compromises”would be in place to prevent the war, and that he wants to leave thatisland together with Flint. 

What would these arrangements be,if not Flint’s imprisonment in Savannah?

5. The ambiguity of Flint’s fate - thescene cut off in the forest, including the uncertainty over whetherit was actually a gunshot that alerted the other crew members, or somethingelse, matched the suspense before Madi was found alive. It was justthat, suspense, and the resolution to the whole thing camethrough Silver’s explanation toward the end of the episode. There isno detail that cannot be explained fully by the explanation we’regiven by Silver. 

6. Jack tells Grandma Guthrie thatFlint has retired. If Silver had killed Flint instead, it would notmake any sense to tell an explicit lie when the truth wouldhave served him just as well, if not better. The official version of events would still be Flint’s retirement, but why deny in front of Grandma Guthrie that the cat was drowned, if that was what she wanted, and also what happened? 

7. This is maybe the most important point, because the showrunners have repeatedlystated that their ending had the goal to bring the characters intoplace for Treasure Island. That only works if Flint is leftalive. If Flint had died in that forest, there would be notreasure map, because only Flint knows where the damnthing is buried. Taken at face value, the ending fits. It’s still decades before the events of Treasure Island come to pass. Billy can still get off that island. Silver can still lose some moreof his leg. Ben Gunn can still be marooned. But if Flint were dead, any canon-compliance would have gone right out of the window.  

One does not simply make a prequel to Treasure Island for four entire seasons only to arrive at a point wherethe ending is contradictory to Treasure Island.

I don’t think that what I’m saying here will convince anyone who has already formed an opinion. 

But I personally don’t find the theory that Silver might have killed Flint convincing, and unless you find a way to dismiss all of the things statedabove, that theory simply does not have the same credibility, and in any case, it’s not enough for me to speak of an ambiguous ending - which is different, in my understanding of the terms, than an open ending, which simply does not answer all the questions.

The terribly beauty of this finale, imo, is that itleads its viewers to believe that the ending is more ambiguous thanit actually is…