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shyficwriter · 3 years ago

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Temporary Home: Chapter 7

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Peter is determined to chip your shell away, but unfortunately, his attempts only seem to annoy you. He might need to step up his game, and by that he means recruiting Mantis, which backfires on him. This could be the start of a war, if Yondu knows what he's talking about.

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Author’s Note: I got a suggestion from @maribatshipper to add a scene where some actual raccoons get in the trash and Rocket finally sees a raccoon. I love the idea but I unfortunately didn't get a chance to add it to this chapter as it was finished before I saw the suggestion (I'll probably add it later, don't worry! lol) Anyways, it gave me an idea. What's some stuff you guys would like to see happen in this story? I do already know the direction of the story, but this could also be fun!

Word Count: 3,729

You were going to kill Peter. Probably Kraglin too.

It started maybe a couple hours after "the smelly incident," as you had mentally dubbed it, had resolved.

Peter got bored, found some old DVDs in the cabinet below the TV, and when he recognized a movie from when he was a kid, SpaceBalls, he managed to convince you to watch it with them.

He might have also quietly pulled the "unless you're too shy..." card for the thousandth time, and you might have told him it was getting old and he was working his way towards a black eye, but you did agree to watch the film with them. Peter had somehow convinced everyone else to watch the movie, too. Might have had something to do with the fact that no one exactly had anything better to do.

Kraglin sat at on one end of the sofa, Gamora on the other, and Peter & you were sandwiched in the middle, him next to Gamora and you next to Kraglin. Mantis, Rocket and Groot sat on the floor, while Drax and Yondu took the armchairs at either side of the sofa.

Only you and Peter got the Star Wars references, of course, but there were plenty of parts the others found funny even without it. Rocket mostly laughed about how Terrans didn't understand space at all if you thought that's how things worked, and compared Peter to the main character, Lone Star. He meant it in a derogatory way, of course.

At about the scene where Dark Helmet breaks the 4th wall with the line, "What the hell am I looking at? When does this happen in the movie?" Peter had started to notice that you didn't laugh openly like everyone else. You always covered your mouth like you were trying to stifle it, despite no one else bothering to be quiet, least of all Drax, who laughed loudly at parts that weren't even that funny.

That simply wouldn't do. You should be laughing freely with the others, like you did when Kraglin and Rocket got tangled up in the hose, which was probably the only time he had seen a genuine full laugh from you, now that he thought of it. To him, this was evidence that he was right, you needed to break that shell of yours and learn how to loosen up.

Annnd... if that required a little mischief on his part... well then so be it.

He waited a bit, just to see if you'd eventually let yourself relax, but when you just kept biting your lip not to laugh and covering your mouth when you started to, he decided he'd 'help' you along.

The scene came on where Dark Helmet's men were combing the dessert with a literal giant comb, and seeing you trying to stifle another laugh, Peter decided to poke you in the side.

You tried to stifle your squeak and you glared at him, but he just shrugged innocently. Poke you? Never... Doesn't sound like him...

He spaced a couple more pokes within the next few minutes of the film, making you jump and hiss at him to stop. He grinned at you and whispered he thought you could use some help laughing, since it seemed you had forgotten how. The little shit.

You irritably whisper back, "That's not gonna work, I'm not-"

Peter rolled his eyes playfully and replied, "Yeah. Sure. Not ticklish. You've said. Too bad I don't believe you." He made to poke you again and you pinched him hard on the arm, which you admit was childish, but he deserved it for annoying you. He gave you a pouty look in response and then frowned when Gamora scolded him and told him to quit behaving like a child.

You sat back and thought he'd finally quit.

And he might have, seeing that it wasn't quite working as he hoped, but Kraglin, who of course noticed your flinching and the childish bickering between you and Peter, caught Peter's eye and they shared a look. He wanted in on the fun. Movie wasn't all that interesting to him anyways.

Five minutes later you received a poke from each of them simultaneously, making your arms clamp to your sides. You turn your head from side to side to glare at both of them. Quietly threatening to break their fingers if they didn't straighten up and just watch the movie.

Based on their expressions it was clear they didn't take you seriously, but they seemed to back off... for about another ten minutes. That's when they decided to poke you again and you jerked up off the sofa with a "That's it." and moved to sit down on the floor next to Mantis where you knew you were out of their reach.

Gamora smacked Peter in the arm for annoying you off the sofa, but no one paid much mind or reacted with more than a glance as they were paying attention to the movie. Well, except for Yondu, who had fallen asleep and was now snoring softly in his chair.

Peter was slightly disappointed that you hadn't been able to let your guard down, but he wasn't deterred. In fact, he was more determined to not just chip at your shell, but shatter it. There was someone who liked to have fun in there, and he was determined to find them and pull them out.

Thankfully, you were able to finish the rest of the movie unbothered. Rocket complained about the sappy ending where Lone Star and the Princess marry, but then Mantis said she thought it was sweet and he waved her off, grumbling about how she thought everything was sweet, or cute, or whatever...

After the movie you decided to go out to the shed and apply the varnish to the bed frame, and when you came back inside to wash some of the varnish off your hands you were startled when Kraglin snuck up behind you to poke you in the ribs. He dodged just in time to avoid being smacked and ran out of the kitchen, his giggles joined by Peter's in the hall.

You sighed, now thinking you should have taken more time in the shed with the varnish. Maybe cooking something would keep you busy enough, but what would you cook? Your first thought was that lasagna would likely feed everyone, but then you remembered the cheese and you were not about to have a repeat of that morning. You were sure the hairs inside your nose were singed-off forever.

You walk out the kitchen door to catch the men still giggling in the hall and they jump from the unexpected sight of you, probably thinking you had come out to properly smack them for deliberately annoying you. You look at them, unamused, and say, "Supper will be in about an hour if you want it. If there's anything else any of you can't eat you should probably tell me now."

Peter and Kraglin exchanged looks before Peter turned back to you and said, "If there is, we don't know it yet."

Kraglin nodded and added, "Not a lot of experience with Terran food, ma'am."

You cringe slightly at being called ma'am, but give a short nod. "Well, here's hoping I don't poison anyone again," you say, turning to head back to the kitchen. You are stopped when another poke to your waist makes you jump and you turn back with a hand raised to smack him.

Peter recoils with a laugh and says, "Just wondering if you'd like any help in the kitchen?"

You narrow your eyes. "Nope. Think you two better stay out here. Clearly can't trust you not to annoy me." You can hear their chuckles as you walk back into the kitchen.

Mercifully, they left you alone all through the cooking and eating of dinner, (you had decided to make a stew). Well, they left you alone physically, that is. Throughout dinner they kept attempting jokes, and it was obvious they were aiming them at you in an attempt to get you to laugh. Most of them fell flat, however, because most of the jokes Kragin told hinged on you knowing about creatures or other stuff not from Earth that you'd have not any way of knowing the context for to make the joke make sense. The others seemed to get the jokes and find them funny though, so at least they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Better than awkward silence any day.

Peter was able to tell a few jokes with Earth references that you could understand, but they were such old jokes that anyone who didn't live in a cave would have already heard them before they finished primary school, so you didn't really laugh at his either. You did, however, smile politely, assuming that they were only trying to be friendly.

After dinner you started to get ready to wash the dishes, and Gamora offered to help.

"No thank you, I've got them tonight." you say, taking the couple of bowls she had gathered and put them in the sink.

"You sure? You cooked for us, it doesn't seem right to let you clean up by yourself too."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to make a habit of it, just... some nights I like to have something to keep me busy, ya know?" You turn on the tap and start washing the dishes. You hated to admit it, but that boiler Fury replaced your immersion with had proven to be very helpful with eight extra people in the house. If you didn't know better you'd say it was magic. Somehow there was just always hot water. You willed yourself not to get too used to it, however. No one had said, but surely SHIELD was just temporarily loaning it until the Guardians finally were able to go back home. You couldn't imagine them just giving you an upgrade like that to keep forever.

"Ok," Gamora relented, not wanting to push it. She could tell you probably still needed a bit more time before you could fully relax. "Thanks for supper."

"Don't mention it," you say, not looking up as you sudsed a bowl.

Gamora nodded and walked out of the kitchen, passing Peter, Kraglin and Mantis on her way into the sitting room. They looked like they were conspiring something, but as a general rule, she didn't get involved in Peter's shenanigans. That meant that unless it was going to directly annoy her, or possibly injure someone else, she pretended not to notice.

She had been right, they were conspiring. Well, Peter and Kraglin had been, Mantis was just along for the ride. With nothing better to do, the two men decided they'd put their energy towards continuing to mess with you, however, it was clear that they needed to get smarter about their approach if they didn't want to risk a black eye.

So they deployed Mantis.

It didn't take much to convince Mantis to do it either. It literally just took Peter asking Mantis if she wanted to play a game and she agreed.

In truth Peter was testing a theory. He watched from the kitchen door with Kraglin as they sent Mantis in to do the poking while you washed the dishes.

She poked, you jumped and spun to face her, clearly thinking it was one of the guys, and then the irritation softened from your face as you realized it was her and all she got was a mild scolding. Mantis looked back and Kraglin encouraged her to do it again with an enthusiastic nod.

This time she fluttered her fingers at your waist from both sides like she had the other day, making you jump again, and, with what sounded suspiciously to the guys to be a poorly suppressed giggle in your voice, you scolded her again and shooed her away.

Theory confirmed. You couldn't bring yourself to try and smack her away like you had with them. Good. He could work with that. Use your soft spot for her against you.

This time they motioned Mantis to come back.

She meets them at the doorway and on her way out whispers, "Did I do a good job?"

Peter smiles, "Yes. You did great. Hey, I want to show you a trick..."

***

A bit later you walked into the sitting room and Mantis calls you over to the table, saying she wants to show you a trick.

She's sitting with Peter, Kraglin, and Gamora, and you walk over hesitantly, wondering if Gamora's presence meant you could assume you'd be safe from mischief or not, seeing as she normally swatted at or scolded Peter for being annoying.

Once you reached the table Mantis stood and encouraged you to take a seat. You pull out a chair at the end of the table and sit, only to be instructed by Mantis to turn and face her.

You eye her suspiciously and then turn to Gamora. "Am I going to regret this?" you ask, your eyes moving to Peter and Kraglin who sat across from her, shrugging and shaking their heads. You were sure you could only trust them about as far as you could throw them, but Gamora appeared to genuinely have no idea what Mantis wanted to show you, so you decided to just play along. How bad could it be?

Mantis instructed you to hold out your hand for her, and you did as asked. She then held your hand palm up and placed her thumb at the tip of your middle finger, and rested the tip of her own middle finger where the palm of your hand met your wrist, as if she were measuring the distance with her own hand.

She then released your hand and moved the hand she used to measure the length of your hand with to your knee, placing her thumb on your kneecap and lowering the tip of her middle finger to rest on your thigh above the knee.

"What are you doing?" you ask, suspicion and confusion in your voice.

Mantis looked up to meet your gaze. She smiled happily and said, "I'm distracting you for this!"

You raise an eyebrow but before you could wonder much about it she squeezed your leg where her middle finger had been resting, sending a tickly jolt through your body and making you jerk in your seat and your breath catch in your throat.

You grasp for her wrist to push her away, but then she just attacked your other leg with her other hand. "Mantis! No!" you squeak, squirming in your seat and flailing for her hands. Every time you'd grab for one hand, she'd free her other hand and send ticklish pokes and squeezes wherever she could reach.

She was was a little stronger and quicker than she looked, so it made the task of restraining her hands difficult for you. You did your best to hold back any laughter as you flinched and jerked from your torment. You could hear Peter laughing and telling her 'good job,' and Kraglin encouraging her to continue, which she did, happily giggling the whole time.

"Peter!" you half scold/half beckon.

"Yes?" he asked teasingly, folding his hands under his chin with a cheeky grin. Gamora rolled her eyes and tried to shake her head disapprovingly at him, but she couldn't help grinning. Mantis just looked so playful and it was honestly adorable.

"Will you-AEK" you squeak as she darted a hand and squeezed at your waist before you could stop her, "Will you make her stop!"

"Thought you weren't ticklish?" Kraglin said with a teasingly smug grin. "That shouldn't bother you at all then. I don't see a problem."

Gamora sighed with a smile at the two men. So that's what this was about. They must have put Mantis up to this.

"Dammit!" you jerk again as Mantis landed another squeeze above your knee. "I'm- I'm not- I'm-" you were having managing words, because each time you attempted, you were cut off by another poke or squeeze from Mantis, and you were afraid you would start laughing if you allowed yourself to talk through it. You were already having a hell of a time trying not to smile, and failing.

"I swear, if you actually say you're not ticklish right now, Pete and I will pin you down and prove that you are." Kraglin threatened with an evil grin.

"Kraglin!" Gamora scolded with furrowed brow, but her warning wasn't taken too seriously on account of the humor laced in her voice.

"What? She's the one being so stubborn she can't admit it!" Kraglin laughed. As far as he was concerned, you deserved it for fibbing. Plus, wouldn't kill you to loosen up a bit- you could be... well, scary... sometimes. Although it was kinda hard to think of you as scary at the moment while you were spasming in a chair as you kept trying to get a hold on Mantis's quick hands and a grin more than threatened to crack your face.

You could feel your cheeks getting warm, hating showing signs of weakness, but knowing you didn't have much choice at the moment. "Ok! Fine!" you cry out, still grappling at Mantis's hands and biting back any giggles that threatened to spill out. You knew when you were beat. It was pretty damn obvious that you couldn't deny being ticklish anymore, and you sure as hell weren't about to give them a reason to actually properly tickle the snot out of you. You wouldn't stand a chance.

"Fine... what?" Peter chuckled in a sing-song voice and leaned on the table.

You could kill him. "Fine! I'm ticklish, okay!? I admit it! Are you happy now!?" Just then Mantis managed to free both hands and briefly tweak your ribs before you got a grip on her wrists again, finally getting a short laugh to escape your throat as you spasmed in your chair. "Will you call her off now, please!?" Gods, this was embarrassing. You didn't know how, but they were so going to pay for this.

Peter and Kraglin high-five and Peter says, "Alright, Mantis, good job."

Mantis stood and clasped her hands, giggling and saying how that was so much fun, and you half-heartedly glare up at her before standing so you could get out of there, but not before turning to aim a glare at Peter and Kraglin. The jackasses.

When you turn back you notice Yondu leaning on the back of the sofa looking amused and you cringe, asking, "How long have you been standing there?"

Yondu folded his arms and pretended to think. "Hmm... Long enough to hear the boys threaten to tickle ya silly and then see ya fold like a cheap tent." Humor twinkled in his eyes and you wanted to melt into the floor.

You inhale and look to the ceiling, your cheeks burning. Your expression then turned mischievous. Vengeance. Now.

"Mantis?" you say, turning back to face her.

"Yes?" she answers, smiling wide and sweetly.

You put on your best, most innocent face. "Ya know, maybe you should do that to Peter. Or Kraglin. Why should they miss out on the fun?" Your eyes flick to the pair menacingly to see Peter looking at you like you just shot him.

Mantis giggles and goes to take your suggestion, bouncing to their side of the table. Peter bolted from his chair, saying, "Mantis- wait a minute!" and tried to run around the table, getting slowed down when Kraglin tripped him, mostly likely to save himself as he also stood to get out of Mantis's way, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her in Peter's direction when it looked like she was going after him. Unfortunately for Peter, he didn't get much further after Kraglin tripped him as Gamora effortlessly caught him by the arm and then laughed as she held him in place and he complained.

You turned back to Yondu with a satisfied smile and started to walk past him to leave when he leaned over to speak in a low tone as you got near. "Hope ya know that was a mistake, girl," he chuckled.

"What?" you say, surprised. Peter could be heard laughing and pleading with Mantis and Gamora behind you.

He grinned wider. "If there's anythin' I know about that boy, ya just declared war. An' if that ain't bad enough, now yer stuck in a house with him, and my first mate who ain't got nothin better to do."

"Ah." Your voice cracks, your eyes widening, nervousness creeping into your belly. "Well surely they wouldn't hold a grudge- I mean, they started it-"

He straightened back up and chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. "Jus' figured I should give ya a heads up. Do with it what ya will. Boy's partial to pranks when it comes to revenge. Might wanna be on the lookout for buckets of water above your doorways tomorrow. Or grease in your boots. That used to be Quill's go-to." Mirth glistened in his eyes and made you unsure if this warning was out of the goodness of his heart or if he enjoyed seeing the 'oh shit' look on your face.

You swallowed. Fuck. Just what you needed. A war. You decided it might be a good idea to get out before Peter could escape, or before Kraglin could decide to avenge his friend. "Well I'm going to go to bed now." Your voice was a little higher than you'd like and you could hear Yondu chuckling as you scarpered.

He knew it was more likely you were going to hide than going to sleep. It was barely dark out.

Yondu shook his head and walked to take a seat on the couch, still chuckling at the flicker of fear in your eyes when he told you that you had started a war. He switched on the TV and idly wondered who'd give up first. He'd gotten the impression that you wouldn't be one to back down, despite the nervousness present on your face.

You may have the advantage of being on home turf, but Quill could be relentless. More than likely you were fucked, but it'd be interesting to see how it all played out.

You might surprise him.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #peter quill #kraglin obfonteri #starlord #mantis #gamora #yondu #rocket raccoon #pranks #hijinks

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leviiattacks · 4 years ago

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Two Faced | Chapter Ten

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 4k author note :: haha.... wowww it's been long since i last updated. honestly my physical and mental health have just been horrible... that's about it, i lost a lot of motivation but if you're still reading i am very thankful and i will try to deliver the story well. i tried my best but writing whilst sick is very tiresome :-) tags :: @patience-is-here , @chwlogy , @a--nonymousse , @imkumichan

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Keeping yourself cooped up within Levi's estate and never daring to step a foot outside should have been what you had done. Blackmailing him to keep you confined within the walls of your bedroom would be much better compared to the problem you have to resolve now. Perhaps if you had done so you wouldn't have collided face first into this muddle.

Jean fiddles with the ends of his button up, he doesn't take the chance to glance up at any of his superiors. He's either much too embarrassed or has nothing noteworthy to start off with.

Erwin chooses to call the shots seeing as neither you or the Viscount by your side wish to begin.

"You both understand why we're here. Correct me if I'm wrong?" The Commander looks between you, Jean and your unfortunate excuse of a husband. Suddenly it looks as if the gears and cogs in Jean's brain move without warning.

Offering a demure nod you expect for him to follow in your footsteps and do the same only he stands there looking between you and Levi.

"Wait...The two of you are? A couple?" Stunned isn't the word, Jean's completely flabbergasted.

"If you figured that out this late, I do not understand why Erwin sees you remotely fit for my team." Levi's beyond insulted at the fact he's only just understood the situation.

Jean, now more intimidated than ever before straightens his back and coughs clumsily, "Sorry." He murmurs chestnut eyes making contact with the hardwood floors.

The Commander's laced hands sit atop his desk, elegant fingers moving similar to honey on a spoon. He sighs not out of fatigue but pride. Whatever plan he's come up with has to be decent at the very least, his body language is telling you that much.

"We have a number of possibilities we can choose from. We owe that pleasure to Mr Kirstein here." Erwin offers him an almost cynical smile, you can't help but gulp thinking about how this is essentially your fault. With all the constant training sessions and team building tasks it makes sense for Jean to have completely forgot about your unspoken rule. Solely blaming him is incorrect.

Raising your arm above your head to intervene you make it known that you're aware of Levi shooting you a look of warning by returning it. It's best he knows you don't care for anyone's opinion let alone his.

"Permission to speak Commander?"

Your request is agreed to immediately with the wave of Erwin's hand.

"It's my fault for not reminding Jean. I'll take the blame, I hadn't even told him the full story concerning me and Levi."

Levi doesn't enjoy your defense in the slightest. "I don't expect my wife to fling herself at other men and allow for them to snoop around gathering the details of our personal lives."

Scoffing you shield yourself with your arms over your chest.

"Oh dear husband. If you want to get personal do tell me where my family is?" It's an inside joke only Levi will be able to understand.

"If you call those people family your standards are disgustingly low."

"Maybe that explains why I settled for you."

Again, other's opinions are not at the forefront of your priority list. Regardless it's quite enjoyable pushing Levi further into a corner with that sentence. You see the internal struggle play out within him. Jaw clenched, hands balled together. He doesn't have an appropriate response

Jean bursts out unable to hold it in any longer, chest trembling with every quake of laughter that ripples through him you have to shove him with your elbow. For a Viscount his etiquette sure is nonexistent.

"My word, the two of you sound like..."

Levi stares at him most probably expecting something along the lines of "An old married couple."

But, no. It's nothing anyone in the room expects. That includes you.

"It's as if you're unhappy with each other..."

Not a noise is made after that. Jean isn't mistaken, your heart is miserable. You've never had many relationships to begin with, whether it be familial, romantic or platonic and for someone such as your husband to treat you the way he does - it feels futile having to navigate around the complexities. Even if he isn't really your husband it's disappointing to reflect on your marriage so suddenly.

Feeling your face droop a little you bite your bottom lip with your teeth. Hearing the truth from someone you barely expect to hear it from has an effect on you.

You're so caught up analyzing everything it takes you a minute to even register Levi grumbling and lunging forward pilfering the collar of Jean's shirt.

"Every day you prove to be more and more pathetic than I expect." Levi turns to look at you after that. His stare bores into you but he doesn't come off threatening, you assume his last remark is directed solely at Jean.

When he turns back only glaring at Jean now with even more tenacity than before. He's ready to snap but Erwin has clearly had enough of the unwanted altercation in his office.

"Enough. The both of you. This is most bothersome." At the Commander's orders Levi is silenced although it takes all of his resolve to do so.

Finally bothering you take a good look at Jean. He's calm in an incredibly out of character way.

Is this not the man who trembled in his boots the first time he and Levi came into contact? It's almost as if he seems pleased with himself for drawing out such a reaction from his Captain.

Erwin shuffles through stacks of paperwork on his desk. The man needs an assistant at this point. You doubt you could find anything in that haphazard pile. Edges of crumpled paper poke out uncomfortably and Erwin becomes increasingly annoyed when he can't locate what it is he's looking for.

Just as you're about to ask if he requires any assistance it seems he's found what he's been looking for, that's if his eyes are any indication of the relief he feels.

"This." He holds up the paper, all eyes in the room are trained on it. "Under normal circumstances would not have to become an option."

"But these aren't normal circumstances?" Jean's thoughtless question is irksome when the answer is so obviously staring him down in the face.

Nonetheless Erwin nods incapable of losing his cool over something so minor.

"Sign to confirm to my proposition."

The document he places onto the desk isn't what you imagine, you can practically feel the dread climb up your throat once you're done scanning it. Jean's full name placed right next to yours in bold lettering has your stomach lurching. You don't have to read the rest to understand the new circumstances you've landed into.

To make matters worse Erwin places two rings down right in front of the both of you.

A pot of boiling hot water is what you've been thrown in.

Are you supposed to be some sort of replacement for potatoes? What's Jean in this scenario? Carrots?

"It is troublesome to have the two of you put on an act to be involved with one another but I see it as our safest option." Erwin notices your parted lips and slacked jaw. "You need not worry this isn't a marriage contract, you're simply acting."

There's no path out of this pot, you and Jean will simply have to deal with the prospect of being boiled alive.

Ah, you forgot to mention who would act as the hot water but you're sure the suspect is obvious.

Even right now Levi's fury radiates off of him, it's unclear if he was given the details of the Commander's plan beforehand but if his furrowed brow and pursed lips are indicators of the truth he must have had no idea.

Your suspicions are confirmed to be correct once Levi reaches forward plucking the paper away, it just so happens he's snatched it away the very moment Jean leans in to get a closer look at it.

"I was never informed of this."

Erwin gives him a guarded smile. "Do you have any jurisdiction over what I think is best?" Is his freezing reply.

"Yes. When it concerns my wife and another man - Correction. I meant boy."

Jean's taken aback by the subtle jab and shamefacedly shoves his hands into his pockets.

You watch the scene go down with a perplexed look the entire time. Levi's frustration seems to be legitimate yet he has no logical reason for it to ever be present in the first place. Unless he has a plan which outperforms the one you've just been given he's doing this all for nothing.

"I assure you your wife is in safe hands so long as you stop interfering."

Levi's about to bark back until he catches your confusion. He's become aware of your tilted head and telling expression and only then does he silence himself permanently not before sighing deeply, muttering an expletive under his breath.

"I’ll sign it.” That seems to be Jean’s indirect way of asking what your choice will be.

“I... will too.” Is your hesitant reply.

Levi only becomes avoidant after that. Half way through Erwin explaining how you and Jean have to look believable Levi just ups and leaves without a word. Perhaps you've hurt his pride but for what he's done to you it's a small price to pay and so you do nothing to make amends. He has no reason to feel uncomfortable, you aren't really his wife, you're essentially strangers. Does he even know your favourite colour? Your favourite food? Your favourite pastime?

You doubt he does.

Jean and you are rather successful with your act. It feels pleasant having him brush your hair out of your face occasionally or lovingly place a hand on your forehead to check if you've come down with a fever. He laces his fingers with yours when others are around and when they aren't he lets the act go. It's satisfying having a cooperative partner.

Naturally Jean is still a tease, even now he makes the odd suggestive comment or two in passing but you can't say you hate it. In fact it excites you to think of a response that borders the edge of teasing and simple fun between friends.

The increasing openness between the two of you is enough for the cadets to deduce that he's most probably the noble man you wed in secrecy.

It's only been a few days since yours and Jean's newfound behaviour, thankfully you haven't been flooded with questions just yet. The higher ups sit nearby during breakfast, lunch and dinner keeping watch over the cadets. It leaves you able to eat and drink without having to handle the constant inquiring of your comrades.

However, you aren't as lucky today. A meeting's taking place and after yours and Jean's convincing act Erwin deems it safe enough to leave you unattended for a short while.

Of course it doesn't go according to plan because when you're involved when does anything ever go according to plan?

The cadets are flocked around your table at dinner as soon as they notice they've been left to their own devices. The opportunity to sit down without everyone invading your space is barely provided to you. Krista is sat to your right leaning into you rather animatedly, Annie has made herself at home sat across you which in itself is completely out of character and slightly unnerving, Annie never and you repeat never concerns herself with you.

"Why did you and Jean hide it?" Armin hovers over your shoulder as per usual. He can't be blamed for naturally being inquisitive and it does give you the opportunity to lay out the foundations of your plan. Now's your time to muster up one of your rehearsed responses.

"It would interfere with work." You respond immediately wanting to appear natural. Pondering on an answer for too long would raise suspicions.

Armin makes a sound of approval and shuffles into the seat next to Krista, that is until Ymir can be overheard telling him to move if he knows what's best for him.

"I have a question." Says a voice across the table, you don't have to look at the blonde parallel to you to know it's her.

For once Annie’s initiated a conversation with you, she’s not particularly great at keeping her intentions discreet. Maybe she doesn’t care if you can tell what she’s up to? But if that’s the case her plan isn’t all that foolproof, there's no way you're to let any details slip away.

Sharply inhaling waiting for what it is she has to say you find that her sentence never comes. Instead she shakes her head and murmurs a "Never mind.". You don't even have the time to ask her to stick around, she's already rose from her seat taking her unfinished plate of food with her, you let her go assuming she feels unwell.

"So how'd you two meet? Jean already told me earlier but I'd like to hear your side." Reiner's taken Annie's empty seat and his gaze is unwavering. The trap they've set up is a clever one. Surveying the hall for Bertholdt you know he has to be observing too. The two never operate alone.

You suddenly hate Reiner. For whatever reason he and his trio are endlessly obsessed with you, they've caught onto something that's for sure but you don't know what it is and now they've completely ensnared you with a backhanded trick. There's no way out of this, you have no idea what it is Jean said to Reiner, the chances of you providing the exact same answer are slim to none.

"My memory is really fuzzy, I don't think Jean gave off much of a first impression so I've forgot." Your horrible excuse doesn't fly by, everyone simultaneously narrows their eyes in disbelief. What you've said isn't convincing at all.

Husband and Wife yet you've forgot how the two of you met?

Fidgeting with the ring adorning your finger the cool metal isn't doing a great job at alleviating the pressure of the situation.

"Jean said the two of you hit it off almost instantly. Who's being dishonest?"

Reiner's either lying to catch you out or he's saying the God honest truth and right now all you can do is hope and pray for a miracle to sweep you off your feet. Mikasa and Jean still aren't within view. At this point you're hoping for Levi to save you, it doesn't matter how so long as you escape unscathed.

"Hey, I think we're just making her anxious with all the questions." Armin is quick to side with you, deep down you know he only does so due to the respect he holds for his Commander. You thank the Heaven's for Erwin's admirable smile and commendable leadership, it seems to be the only reason Armin believes you and Jean.

"Or she's lying." Reiner's resting his head in one of his palms, he's still boring holes right into your frame.

Your eye twitches, this is all unnecessary and uncalled for, whatever it is Reiner wants out of you it better be worthwhile.

He still eggs you on. "You walked out of the Captain's quarters. I saw you."

Standing up and leaning forward you plant your feet to the ground as firmly as you can you.

"And if she did what's it to you?"

Fighting the urge to sigh in relief you've never been happier to hear Jean's voice but something's off. His breathing sounds heavy - like he fought his way to get inside. Turning only then do you notice Mikasa standing by him. She looks equally as exhausted. There's been some sort of a struggle.

"You think it was funny getting Annie to guard the door?" He heaves and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"And you think hiding secrets from the rest of us is any better?" Reiner's adamant there's information that the both of you are hiding, he's not wrong but that doesn't change that he's challenging you unprovoked without a reasonable motive.

"We're hiding nothing." Unlike you Jean is sure of his words, he's confident speaking up and he seems to be able to pull off the role of a protective husband perfectly.

“I came out of the Captain’s quarters because he had access to hot water. He said I could use his shower. That’s all it was.”

Reiner quirks an eyebrow upwards and is pleased with your answer. God you’ve said something incriminating haven’t you? It's not incriminating per se but it's without doubt malleable and easy to twist.

“Jean, you were okay with your wife doing that at the dead of night?” Reiner's still leading the interrogation.

“I was the one who suggested it.”

“I don’t believe you’re a couple." If it were Reiner who said that you wouldn't care much, after all it's pretty clear he never believed it but to your displeasure it isn't him who's spoken. Ymir's lopsided grin is all knowing and you're beginning to lose your footing in this argument any second now if any more people start to side against you.

If Ymir disagrees that almost certainly means Krista has her qualms about you too, you've observed beforehand that Ymir tends to speak for Krista on occasion. This happens to be one of those times.

Krista timidly raises her hand and Ymir gives her an approving nod encouraging her to speak.

"I don't like the conflict going on but it is suspicious..."

"Why have I only ever seen you two hold hands?" She asks.

Ymir slings her arm over Krista's shoulder affectionately. "Yeah, I tell Krista I'll marry her every day of the week."

Mikasa mumbles something unintelligible, Ymir gives her a look of warning but Mikasa doesn't seem to care. Instead she repeats what she has to say loud and clear.

"Stick to only speaking when Krista is involved."

Krista holds Ymir by her arm so she doesn't get up, she knows how she gets when she's been provoked. Even if Krista has her suspicions it isn't worth Ymir gaining a permanent penalty point on her record.

Thankfully Armin cuts in. "There's no solid evidence to show they're lying and even if they are the Commander's most probably told them to. Don't you think there's a reason? Leave it be if that's the case. I trust him with our lives."

"We have a right to know." Annie's returned and insists to keep this back and forth going.

Just as you're about to fire back Jean takes a hold of your waist, you look down and seeing his large hands planted securely around your frame has your stomach bubbling with anticipation.

"What are you— "

And then he kisses you, he doesn't ask and instinctively your arms move to whack his chest but you stop yourself in time. You realize it's for the sake of your plan not falling through and so you gently place your hands on his shoulders attempting to ground yourself. It becomes increasingly difficult when you sink deeper into the kiss than you'd like to admit. Blood rushes to the tips of your ears and the thumping of your heartbeat makes it difficult to articulate any thoughts, all you really know is that you like this, whatever this is.

Jean's hands don't feel like they were made to rest against your back, they feel slightly out of place as if he's a key and you're an unmatched lock. In spite of that the circles he comfortingly rubs into the sides of your waist are appreciated, you almost forget you're in a room full of people until you're flooded by cold air.

You've been dragged off of Jean and something in the pit of your stomach has you wishing Levi isn't responsible for the interruption.

To your relief it's just Hange, they're glowing in mischief, the grin on their face shows they aren't mad. They might even find this entertaining.

"Well I be damned... maybe they weren't bluffing?" Connie's been persuaded by the looks of it and Krista's busy whispering to Ymir, you hear the faint sound of the word "Romantic" escape her lips, she's equally as convinced as Connie.

Hange smacks your back light-heartedly and looks to the door for a second. "We leave ya' both for a while and you decide to give everyone a show?"

Erwin's stood by the doorway with a humorous smile playing at his lips, Levi however is anything but amused, he glares at you with murderous eyes, he looks like he's ready to end your life then and there but you know he won't dare do so and for a second you feel braver than you ever have before. Without much thought you grab onto Jean's forearm.

"Me and my husband will get going now!" You allow your gaze to loiter when you get to Reiner. He grunts an apology and you're oh so tempted to ask him to repeat himself but you'd rather not instigate anything.

With that said and done you and Jean leave after giving the performance of your lives.

Slowly but gradually the sky outside becomes dark.

The will to sleep left your body long ago. It's by pure luck that you even manage to catch three hours of rest. Training is the only available distraction and dying out in battle isn't favourable by any means, your boredom may as well be used resourcefully - Strapping yourself up in your ODM gear is the best option.

A quarter way through your warm up you can sense a presence behind you, the leaves rustle and the wind feels noticeably quieter. You'd bother to turn around to see who's intruded but Levi's snuck close enough for you to be able to smell his perfume from where you're stood.

"Feel disrespected? Embarrassed even?" You jab at him knowing it'll rile him up, you don't face him not wanting to give him the pleasure of seeing your face.

"Watch your mouth." he warns sharply.

Rolling your eyes you go about your business, it stays that way for a few minutes. All the while Levi stares at you darting from tree to tree, his scrutinizing gaze scalding you repeatedly.

"Y/N!" He yells at the top of his lungs.

For some unknown reason you automatically stop and lower yourself to the ground

"I have something to tell you." Comes his tense follow up. A finger of his latches onto one of the leather straps on your back.

You can't believe he's still denying the undeniable.

"You can wait till tomorrow. I'll be going to bed."

Levi doesn't seem to care for your cold response and proceeds with no warning.

"I'm jealous." His voice shakes. The grip he has on your harness doesn't let up. With your back turned to him you're still somehow able to detect the very obvious crack of pain.

Levi, jealous?

Gritting your teeth together you feel deceived.

How much longer will you have to tolerate Levi's push and pull?

“May I ask, what he is to you, my love?”

Your breathing grows heavy, tensing up you're completely shocked by the term of endearment that falls from his lips. You haven't heard it for so long, Levi sounds eerily different.

You hate to admit it but a flicker of foolish hope lights in your chest.

"Levi why would you ask— "

"Why don't you call me Lev anymore?" He whispers sounding strangled. You can't take it anymore and hesitantly look his way.

His eyes are filled with tears "I'm sorry my love, I don't know what went wrong." you falter for a second not knowing what to think.

At that moment the flicker becomes a flame.

The man who stands right before you is meant to be dead, never to be seen again. By all accounts this should be impossible, but Lev has always been a fighter.

Bitterness stings your heart, the wounds you've collected are still fresh but despite your body's protests you don't flinch when he gently takes a hold of your wrist, bringing it closer to his mouth.

"Lev...? Is that really you...?" You ask desperately.

The warm kiss he presses against your pulse point provides you with the answer you've been longing for.

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innuendostudios · 3 years ago

Text

Thoughts on: Criterion's Neo-Noir Collection

I have written up all 26 films* in the Criterion Channel's Neo-Noir Collection.

Legend: rw - rewatch; a movie I had seen before going through the collection dnrw - did not rewatch; if a movie met two criteria (a. I had seen it within the last 18 months, b. I actively dislike it) I wrote it up from memory.

* in September, Brick leaves the Criterion Channel and is replaced in the collection with Michael Mann's Thief. May add it to the list when that happens.

Note: These are very "what was on my mind after watching." No effort has been made to avoid spoilers, nor to make the plot clear for anyone who hasn't seen the movies in question. Decide for yourself if that's interesting to you.

Cotton Comes to Harlem I feel utterly unequipped to asses this movie. This and Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song the following year are regularly cited as the progenitors of the blaxploitation genre. (This is arguably unfair, since both were made by Black men and dealt much more substantively with race than the white-directed films that followed them.) Its heroes are a couple of Black cops who are treated with suspicion both by their white colleagues and by the Black community they're meant to police. I'm not 100% clear on whether they're the good guys? I mean, I think they are. But the community's suspicion of them seems, I dunno... well-founded? They are working for The Man. And there's interesting discussion to the had there - is the the problem that the law is carried out by racists, or is the law itself racist? Can Black cops make anything better? But it feels like the film stacks the deck in Gravedigger and Coffin Ed's favor; the local Black church is run by a conman, the Back-to-Africa movement is, itself, a con, and the local Black Power movement is treated as an obstacle. Black cops really are the only force for justice here. Movie portrays Harlem itself as a warm, thriving, cultured community, but the people that make up that community are disloyal and easily fooled. Felt, to me, like the message was "just because they're cops doesn't mean they don't have Black soul," which, nowadays, we would call copaganda. But, then, do I know what I'm talking about? Do I know how much this played into or off of or against stereotypes from 1970? Was this a radical departure I don't have the context to appreciate? Is there substance I'm too white and too many decades removed to pick up on? Am I wildly overthinking this? I dunno. Seems like everyone involved was having a lot of fun, at least. That bit is contagious.

Across 110th Street And here's the other side of the "race film" equation. Another movie set in Harlem with a Black cop pulled between the police, the criminals, and the public, but this time the film is made by white people. I like it both more and less. Pro: this time the difficult position of Black cop who's treated with suspicion by both white cops and Black Harlemites is interrogated. Con: the Black cop has basically no personality other than "honest cop." Pro: the racism of the police force is explicit and systemic, as opposed to comically ineffectual. Con: the movie is shaped around a racist white cop who beats the shit out of Black people but slowly forms a bond with his Black partner. Pro: the Black criminal at the heart of the movie talks openly about how the white world has stacked the deck against him, and he's soulful and relateable. Con: so of course he dies in the end, because the only way privileged people know to sympathetize with minorities is to make them tragic (see also: The Boys in the Band, Philadelphia, and Brokeback Mountain for gay men). Additional con: this time Harlem is portrayed as a hellhole. Barely any of the community is even seen. At least the shot at the end, where the criminal realizes he's going to die and throws the bag of money off a roof and into a playground so the Black kids can pick it up before the cops reclaim it was powerful. But overall... yech. Cotton Comes to Harlem felt like it wasn't for me; this feels like it was 100% for me and I respect it less for that.

The Long Goodbye (rw) The shaggiest dog. Like much Altman, more compelling than good, but very compelling. Raymond Chandler's story is now set in the 1970's, but Philip Marlowe is the same Philip Marlowe of the 1930's. I get the sense there was always something inherently sad about Marlowe. Classic noir always portrayed its detectives as strong-willed men living on the border between the straightlaced world and its seedy underbelly, crossing back and forth freely but belonging to neither. But Chandler stresses the loneliness of it - or, at least, the people who've adapted Chandler do. Marlowe is a decent man in an indecent world, sorting things out, refusing to profit from misery, but unable to set anything truly right. Being a man out of step is here literalized by putting him forty years from the era where he belongs. His hardboiled internal monologue is now the incessant mutterings of the weird guy across the street who never stops smoking. Like I said: compelling! Kael's observation was spot on: everyone in the movie knows more about the mystery than he does, but he's the only one who cares. The mystery is pretty threadbare - Marlowe doesn't detect so much as end up in places and have people explain things to him. But I've seen it two or three times now, and it does linger.

Chinatown (rw) I confess I've always been impressed by Chinatown more than I've liked it. Its story structure is impeccable, its atmosphere is gorgeous, its noirish fatalism is raw and real, its deconstruction of the noir hero is well-observed, and it's full of clever detective tricks (the pocket watches, the tail light, the ruler). I've just never connected with it. Maybe it's a little too perfectly crafted. (I feel similar about Miller's Crossing.) And I've always been ambivalent about the ending. In Towne's original ending, Evelyn shoots Noah Cross dead and get arrested, and neither she nor Jake can tell the truth of why she did it, so she goes to jail for murder and her daughter is in the wind. Polansky proposed the ending that exists now, where Evelyn just dies, Cross wins, and Jake walks away devastated. It communicates the same thing: Jake's attempt to get smart and play all the sides off each other instead of just helping Evelyn escape blows up in his face at the expense of the woman he cares about and any sense of real justice. And it does this more dramatically and efficiently than Towne's original ending. But it also treats Evelyn as narratively disposable, and hands the daughter over to the man who raped Evelyn and murdered her husband. It makes the women suffer more to punch up the ending. But can I honestly say that Towne's ending is the better one? It is thematically equal, dramatically inferior, but would distract me less. Not sure what the calculus comes out to there. Maybe there should be a third option. Anyway! A perfect little contraption. Belongs under a glass dome.

Night Moves (rw) Ah yeah, the good shit. This is my quintessential 70's noir. This is three movies in a row about detectives. Thing is, the classic era wasn't as chockablock with hardboiled detectives as we think; most of those movies starred criminals, cops, and boring dudes seduced to the darkness by a pair of legs. Gumshoes just left the strongest impressions. (The genre is said to begin with Maltese Falcon and end with Touch of Evil, after all.) So when the post-Code 70's decided to pick the genre back up while picking it apart, it makes sense that they went for the 'tecs first. The Long Goodbye dragged the 30's detective into the 70's, and Chinatown went back to the 30's with a 70's sensibility. But Night Moves was about detecting in the Watergate era, and how that changed the archetype. Harry Moseby is the detective so obsessed with finding the truth that he might just ruin his life looking for it, like the straight story will somehow fix everything that's broken, like it'll bring back a murdered teenager and repair his marriage and give him a reason to forgive the woman who fucked him just to distract him from some smuggling. When he's got time to kill, he takes out a little, magnetic chess set and recreates a famous old game, where three knight moves (get it?) would have led to a beautiful checkmate had the player just seen it. He keeps going, self-destructing, because he can't stand the idea that the perfect move is there if he can just find it. And, no matter how much we see it destroy him, we, the audience, want him to keep going; we expect a satisfying resolution to the mystery. That's what we need from a detective picture; one character flat-out compares Harry to Sam Spade. But what if the truth is just... Watergate? Just some prick ruining things for selfish reasons? Nothing grand, nothing satisfying. Nothing could be more noir, or more neo-, than that.

Farewell, My Lovely Sometimes the only thing that makes a noir neo- is that it's in color and all the blood, tits, and racism from the books they're based on get put back in. This second stab at Chandler is competant but not much more than that. Mitchum works as Philip Marlowe, but Chandler's dialogue feels off here, like lines that worked on the page don't work aloud, even though they did when Bogie said them. I'll chalk it up to workmanlike but uninspired direction. (Dang this looks bland so soon after Chinatown.) Moose Malloy is a great character, and perfectly cast. (Wasn't sure at first, but it's true.) Some other interesting cats show up and vanish - the tough brothel madam based on Brenda Allen comes to mind, though she's treated with oddly more disdain than most of the other hoods and is dispatched quicker. In general, the more overt racism and misogyny doesn't seem to do anything except make the movie "edgier" than earlier attempts at the same material, and it reads kinda try-hard. But it mostly holds together. *shrug*

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (dnrw) Didn't care for this at all. Can't tell if the script was treated as a jumping-off point or if the dialogue is 100% improvised, but it just drags on forever and is never that interesting. Keeps treating us to scenes from the strip club like they're the opera scenes in Amadeus, and, whatever, I don't expect burlesque to be Mozart, but Cosmo keeps saying they're an artful, classy joint, and I keep waiting for the show to be more than cheap, lazy camp. How do you make gratuitious nudity boring? Mind you, none of this is bad as a rule - I love digressions and can enjoy good sleaze, and it's clear the filmmakers care about what they're making. They just did not sell it in a way I wanted to buy. Can't remember what edit I watched; I hope it was the 135 minute one, because I cannot imagine there being a longer edit out there.

The American Friend (dnrw) It's weird that this is Patricia Highsmith, right? That Dennis Hopper is playing Tom Ripley? In a cowboy hat? I gather that Minghella's version wasn't true to the source, but I do love that movie, and this is a long, long way from that. This Mr. Ripley isn't even particularly talented! Anyway, this has one really great sequence, where a regular guy has been coerced by crooks into murdering someone on a train platform, and, when the moment comes to shoot, he doesn't. And what follows is a prolonged sequence of an amateur trying to surreptitiously tail a guy across a train station and onto another train, and all the while you're not sure... is he going to do it? is he going to chicken out? is he going to do it so badly he gets caught? It's hard not to put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, wondering how you would handle the situation, whether you could do it, whether you could act on impulse before your conscience could catch up with you. It drags on a long while and this time it's a good thing. Didn't much like the rest of the movie, it's shapeless and often kind of corny, and the central plot hook is contrived. (It's also very weird that this is the only Wim Wenders I've seen.) But, hey, I got one excellent sequence, not gonna complain.

The Big Sleep Unlike the 1946 film, I can follow the plot of this Big Sleep. But, also unlike the 1946 version, this one isn't any damn fun. Mitchum is back as Marlowe (this is three Marlowes in five years, btw), and this time it's set in the 70's and in England, for some reason. I don't find this offensive, but neither do I see what it accomplishes? Most of the cast is still American. (Hi Jimmy!) Still holds together, but even less well than Farewell, My Lovely. But I do find it interesting that the neo-noir era keeps returning to Chandler while it's pretty much left Hammet behind (inasmuch as someone whose genes are spread wide through the whole genre can be left behind). Spade and the Continental Op, straightshooting tough guys who come out on top in the end, seem antiquated in the (post-)modern era. But Marlowe's goodness being out of sync with the world around him only seems more poignant the further you take him from his own time. Nowadays you can really only do Hammett as pastiche, but I sense that you could still play Chandler straight.

Eyes of Laura Mars The most De Palma movie I've seen not made by De Palma, complete with POV shots, paranormal hoodoo, and fixation with sex, death, and whether images of such are art or exploitation (or both). Laura Mars takes photographs of naked women in violent tableux, and has gotten quite famous doing so, but is it damaging to women? The movie has more than a superficial engagement with this topic, but only slightly more than superficial. Kept imagining a movie that is about 30% less serial killer story and 30% more art conversations. (But, then, I have an art degree and have never murdered anyone, so.) Like, museums are full of Biblical paintings full of nude women and slaughter, sometimes both at once, and they're called masterpieces. Most all of them were painted by men on commission from other men. Now Laura Mars makes similar images in modern trappings, and has models made of flesh and blood rather than paint, and it's scandalous? Why is it only controversial once women are getting paid for it? On the other hand, is this just the master's tools? Is she subverting or challenging the male gaze, or just profiting off of it? Or is a woman profiting off of it, itself, a subversion? Is it subversive enough to account for how it commodifies female bodies? These questions are pretty clearly relevant to the movie itself, and the movies in general, especially after the fall of the Hays Code when people were really unrestrained with the blood and boobies. And, heck, the lead is played by the star of Bonnie and Clyde! All this is to say: I wish the movie were as interested in these questions as I am. What's there is a mildly diverting B-picture. There's one great bit where Laura's seeing through the killer's eyes (that's the hook, she gets visions from the murderer's POV; no, this is never explained) and he's RIGHT BEHIND HER, so there's a chase where she charges across an empty room only able to see her own fleeing self from ten feet behind. That was pretty great! And her first kiss with the detective (because you could see a mile away that the detective and the woman he's supposed to protect are gonna fall in love) is immediately followed by the two freaking out about how nonsensical it is for them to fall in love with each other, because she's literally mourning multiple deaths and he's being wildly unprofessional, and then they go back to making out. That bit was great, too. The rest... enh.

The Onion Field What starts off as a seemingly not-that-noirish cops-vs-crooks procedural turns into an agonizingly protracted look at the legal system, with the ultimate argument that the very idea of the law ever resulting in justice is a lie. Hoo! I have to say, I'm impressed. There's a scene where a lawyer - whom I'm not sure is even named, he's like the seventh of thirteen we've met - literally quits the law over how long this court case about two guys shooting a cop has taken. He says the cop who was murdered has been forgotten, his partner has never gotten to move on because the case has lasted eight years, nothing has been accomplished, and they should let the two criminals walk and jail all the judges and lawyers instead. It's awesome! The script is loaded with digressions and unnecessary details, just the way I like it. Can't say I'm impressed with the execution. Nothing is wrong, exactly, but the performances all seem a tad melodramatic or a tad uninspired. Camerawork is, again, purely functional. It's no masterpiece. But that second half worked for me. (And it's Ted Danson's first movie! He did great.)

Body Heat (rw) Let's say up front that this is a handsomely-made movie. Probably the best looking thing on the list since Night Moves. Nothing I've seen better captures the swelter of an East Coast heatwave, or the lusty feeling of being too hot to bang and going at it regardless. Kathleen Turner sells the hell out of a femme fatale. There are a lot of good lines and good performances (Ted Danson is back and having the time of his life). I want to get all that out of the way, because this is a movie heavily modeled after Double Indemnity, and I wanted to discuss its merits before I get into why inviting that comparison doesn't help the movie out. In a lot of ways, it's the same rules as the Robert Mitchum Marlowe movies - do Double Indemnity but amp up the sex and violence. And, to a degree it works. (At least, the sex does, dunno that Double Indemnity was crying out for explosions.) But the plot is amped as well, and gets downright silly. Yeah, Mrs. Dietrichson seduces Walter Neff so he'll off her husband, but Neff clocks that pretty early and goes along with it anyway. Everything beyond that is two people keeping too big a secret and slowly turning on each other. But here? For the twists to work Matty has to be, from frame one, playing four-dimensional chess on the order of Senator Palpatine, and its about as plausible. (Exactly how did she know, after she rebuffed Ned, he would figure out her local bar and go looking for her at the exact hour she was there?) It's already kind of weird to be using the spider woman trope in 1981, but to make her MORE sexually conniving and mercenary than she was in the 40's is... not great. As lurid trash, it's pretty fun for a while, but some noir stuff can't just be updated, it needs to be subverted or it doesn't justify its existence.

Blow Out Brian De Palma has two categories of movie: he's got his mainstream, director-for-hire fare, where his voice is either reigned in or indulged in isolated sequences that don't always jive with the rest fo the film, and then there's his Brian De Palma movies. My mistake, it seems, is having seen several for-hires from throughout his career - The Untouchables (fine enough), Carlito's Way (ditto, but less), Mission: Impossible (enh) - but had only seen De Palma-ass movies from his late period (Femme Fatale and The Black Dahlia, both of which I think are garbage). All this to say: Blow Out was my first classic-era De Palma, and holy fucking shit dudes. This was (with caveats) my absolute and entire jam. I said I could enjoy good sleaze, and this is good friggin' sleaze. (Though far short of De Palma at his sleaziest, mercifully.) The splitscreens, the diopter shots, the canted angles, how does he make so many shlocky things work?! John Travolta's sound tech goes out to get fresh wind fx for the movie he's working on, and we get this wonderful sequence of visuals following sounds as he turns his attention and his microphone to various noises - a couple on a walk, a frog, an owl, a buzzing street lamp. Later, as he listens back to the footage, the same sequence plays again, but this time from his POV; we're seeing his memory as guided by the same sequence of sounds, now recreated with different shots, as he moves his pencil in the air mimicking the microphone. When he mixes and edits sounds, we hear the literal soundtrack of the movie we are watching get mixed and edited by the person on screen. And as he tries to unravel a murder mystery, he uses what's at hand: magnetic tape, flatbed editors, an animation camera to turn still photos from the crime scene into a film and sync it with the audio he recorded; it's forensics using only the tools of the editing room. As someone who's spent some time in college editing rooms, this is a hoot and a half. Loses a bit of steam as it goes on and the film nerd stuff gives way to a more traditional thriller, but rallies for a sound-tech-centered final setpiece, which steadily builds to such madcap heights you can feel the air thinning, before oddly cutting its own tension and then trying to build it back up again. It doesn't work as well the second time. But then, that shot right after the climax? Damn. Conflicted on how the movie treats the female lead. I get why feminist film theorists are so divided on De Palma. His stuff is full of things feminists (rightly) criticize, full of women getting naked when they're not getting stabbed, but he also clearly finds women fascinating and has them do empowered and unexpected things, and there are many feminist reads of his movies. Call it a mixed bag. But even when he's doing tropey shit, he explores the tropes in unexpected ways. Definitely the best movie so far that I hadn't already seen.

Cutter's Way (rw) Alex Cutter is pitched to us as an obnoxious-but-sympathetic son of a bitch, and, you know, two out of three ain't bad. Watched this during my 2020 neo-noir kick and considered skipping it this time because I really didn't enjoy it. Found it a little more compelling this go around, while being reminded of why my feelings were room temp before. Thematically, I'm onboard: it's about a guy, Cutter, getting it in his head that he's found a murderer and needs to bring him to justice, and his friend, Bone, who intermittently helps him because he feels bad that Cutter lost his arm, leg, and eye in Nam and he also feels guilty for being in love with Cutter's wife. The question of whether the guy they're trying to bring down actually did it is intentionally undefined, and arguably unimportant; they've got personal reasons to see this through. Postmodern and noirish, fixated with the inability to ever fully know the truth of anything, but starring people so broken by society that they're desperate for certainty. (Pretty obvious parallels to Vietnam.) Cutter's a drunk and kind of an asshole, but understandably so. Bone's shiftlessness is the other response to a lack of meaning in the world, to the point where making a decision, any decision, feels like character growth, even if it's maybe killing a guy whose guilt is entirely theoretical. So, yeah, I'm down with all of this! A- in outline form. It's just that Cutter is so uninterestingly unpleasant and no one else on screen is compelling enough to make up for it. His drunken windups are tedious and his sanctimonious speeches about what the war was like are, well, true and accurate but also obviously manipulative. It's two hours with two miserable people, and I think Cutter's constant chatter is supposed to be the comic relief but it's a little too accurate to drunken rambling, which isn't funny if you're not also drunk. He's just tedious, irritating, and periodically racist. Pass.

Blood Simple (rw) I'm pretty cool on the Coens - there are things I've liked, even loved, in every Coen film I've seen, but I always come away dissatisfied. For a while, I kept going to their movies because I was sure eventually I'd love one without qualification. No Country for Old Men came close, the first two acts being master classes in sustained tension. But then the third act is all about denying closure: the protagonist is murdered offscreen, the villain's motives are never explained, and it ends with an existentialist speech about the unfathomable cruelty of the world. And it just doesn't land for me. The archness of the Coen's dialogue, the fussiness of their set design, the kinda-intimate, kinda-awkward, kinda-funny closeness of the camera's singles, it cannot sell me on a devastating meditation about meaninglessness. It's only ever sold me on the Coens' own cleverness. And that archness, that distancing, has typified every one of their movies I've come close to loving. Which is a long-ass preamble to saying, holy heck, I was not prepared for their very first movie to be the one I'd been looking for! I watched it last year and it remains true on rewatch: Blood Simple works like gangbusters. It's kind of Double Indemnity (again) but played as a comedy of errors, minus the comedy: two people romantically involved feeling their trust unravel after a murder. And I think the first thing that works for me is that utter lack of comedy. It's loaded with the Coens' trademark ironies - mostly dramatic in this case - but it's all played straight. Unlike the usual lead/femme fatale relationship, where distrust brews as the movie goes on, the audience knows the two main characters can trust each other. There are no secret duplicitous motives waiting to be revealed. The audience also know why they don't trust each other. (And it's all communicated wordlessly, btw: a character enters a scene and we know, based on the information that character has, how it looks to them and what suspicions it would arouse, even as we know the truth of it). The second thing that works is, weirdly, that the characters aren't very interesting?! Ray and Abby have almost no characterization. Outside of a general likability, they are blank slates. This is a weakness in most films, but, given the agonizingly long, wordless sequences where they dispose of bodies or hide from gunfire, you're left thinking not "what will Ray/Abby do in this scenario," because Ray and Abby are relatively elemental and undefined, but "what would I do in this scenario?" Which creates an exquisite tension but also, weirdly, creates more empathy than I feel for the Coens' usual cast of personalities. It's supposed to work the other way around! Truly enjoyable throughout but absolutely wonderful in the suspenseful-as-hell climax. Good shit right here.

Body Double The thing about erotic thrillers is everything that matters is in the name. Is it thrilling? Is it erotic? Good; all else is secondary. De Palma set out to make the most lurid, voyeuristic, horny, violent, shocking, steamy movie he could come up with, and its success was not strictly dependent on the lead's acting ability or the verisimilitude of the plot. But what are we, the modern audience, to make of it once 37 years have passed and, by today's standards, the eroticism is quite tame and the twists are no longer shocking? Then we're left with a nonsensical riff on Vertigo, a specularization of women that is very hard to justify, and lead actor made of pulped wood. De Palma's obsessions don't cohere into anything more this time; the bits stolen from Hitchcock aren't repurposed to new ends, it really is just Hitch with more tits and less brains. (I mean, I still haven't seen Vertigo, but I feel 100% confident in that statement.) The diopter shots and rear-projections this time look cheap (literally so, apparently; this had 1/3 the budget of Blow Out). There are some mildly interesting setpieces, but nothing compared to Travolta's auditory reconstructions or car chase where he tries to tail a subway train from street level even if it means driving through a frickin parade like an inverted French Connection, goddamn Blow Out was a good movie! Anyway. Melanie Griffith seems to be having fun, at least. I guess I had a little as well, but it was, at best, diverting, and a real letdown.

The Hit Surprised by how much I enjoyed this one. Terrance Stamp flips on the mob and spends ten years living a life of ease in Spain, waiting for the day they find and kill him. Movie kicks off when they do find him, and what follows is a ramshackle road movie as John Hurt and a young Tim Roth attempt to drive him to Paris so they can shoot him in front of his old boss. Stamp is magnetic. He's spent a decade reading philosophy and seems utterly prepared for death, so he spends the trip humming, philosophizing, and being friendly with his captors when he's not winding them up. It remains unclear to the end whether the discord he sews between Roth and Hurt is part of some larger plan of escape or just for shits and giggles. There's also a decent amount of plot for a movie that's not terribly plot-driven - just about every part of the kidnapping has tiny hitches the kidnappers aren't prepared for, and each has film-long repercussions, drawing the cops closer and somehow sticking Laura del Sol in their backseat. The ongoing questions are when Stamp will die, whether del Sol will die, and whether Roth will be able to pull the trigger. In the end, it's actually a meditation on ethics and mortality, but in a quiet and often funny way. It's not going to go down as one of my new favs, but it was a nice way to spend a couple hours.

Trouble in Mind (dnrw) I fucking hated this movie. It's been many months since I watched it, do I remember what I hated most? Was it the bit where a couple of country bumpkins who've come to the city walk into a diner and Mr. Bumpkin clocks that the one Black guy in the back as obviously a criminal despite never having seen him before? Was it the part where Kris Kristofferson won't stop hounding Mrs. Bumpkin no matter how many times she demands to be left alone, and it's played as romantic because obviously he knows what she needs better than she does? Or is it the part where Mr. Bumpkin reluctantly takes a job from the Obvious Criminal (who is, in fact, a criminal, and the only named Black character in the movie if I remember correctly, draw your own conclusions) and, within a week, has become a full-blown hood, which is exemplified by a lot, like, a lot of queer-coding? The answer to all three questions is yes. It's also fucking boring. Even out-of-drag Divine's performance as the villain can't save it.

Manhunter 'sfine? I've still never seen Silence of the Lambs, nor any of the Hopkins Lecter movies, nor, indeed, any full episode of the show. So the unheimlich others get seeing Brian Cox play Hannibal didn't come into play. Cox does a good job with him, but he's barely there. Shame, cuz he's the most interesting part of the movie. Honestly, there's a lot of interesting stuff that's barely there. Will Graham being a guy who gets into the heads of serial killers is explored well enough, and Mann knows how to direct a police procedural such that it's both contemplative and propulsive. But all the other themes it points at? Will's fear that he understands murderers a little too well? Hannibal trying to nudge him towards becoming one? Whatever dance Hannibal and Tooth Fairy are doing? What Tooth Fairy's deal is, anyway? (Why does he wear fake teeth and bite things? Why is he fixated on the red dragon? Does the bit where he says "Francis is gone forever" mean he has DID?) None of it goes anywhere or amounts to anything. I mean, it's certainly more interesting with this stuff than without, but it has that feel of a book that's been pared of its interesting bits to fit the runtime (or, alternately, pulp that's been sloppily elevated). I still haven't made my mind up on Mann's cold, precise camera work, but at least it gives me something to look at. It's fine! This is fine.

Mona Lisa (rw) Gave this one another shot. Bob Hoskins is wonderful as a hood out of his depth in classy places, quick to anger but just as quick to let anger go (the opening sequence where he's screaming on his ex-wife's doorstep, hurling trash cans at her house, and one minute later thrilled to see his old car, is pretty nice). And Cathy Tyson's working girl is a subtler kind of fascinating, exuding a mixture of coldness and kindness. It's just... this is ultimately a story about how heartbreaking it is when the girl you like is gay, right? It's Weezer's Pink Triangle: The Movie. It's not homophobic, exactly - Simone isn't demonized for being a lesbian - but it's still, like, "man, this straight white guy's pain is so much more interesting than the Black queer sex worker's." And when he's yelling "you woulda done it!" at the end, I can't tell if we're supposed to agree with him. Seems pretty clear that she wouldn'ta done it, at least not without there being some reveal about her character that doesn't happen, but I don't think the ending works if we don't agree with him, so... I'm like 70% sure the movie does Simone dirty there. For the first half, their growing relationship feels genuine and natural, and, honestly, the story being about a real bond that unfortunately means different things to each party could work if it didn't end with a gun and a sock in the jaw. Shape feels jagged as well; what feels like the end of the second act or so turns out to be the climax. And some of the symbolism is... well, ok, Simone gives George money to buy more appropriate clothes for hanging out in high end hotels, and he gets a tan leather jacket and a Hawaiian shirt, and their first proper bonding moment is when she takes him out for actual clothes. For the rest of the movie he is rocking double-breasted suits (not sure I agree with the striped tie, but it was the eighties, whaddya gonna do?). Then, in the second half, she sends him off looking for her old streetwalker friend, and now he looks completely out of place in the strip clubs and bordellos. So far so good. But then they have this run-in where her old pimp pulls a knife and cuts George's arm, so, with his nice shirt torn and it not safe going home (I guess?) he starts wearing the Hawaiian shirt again. So around the time he's starting to realize he doesn't really belong in Simone's world or the lowlife world he came from anymore, he's running around with the classy double-breasted suit jacket over the garish Hawaiian shirt, and, yeah, bit on the nose guys. Anyway, it has good bits, I just feel like a movie that asks me to feel for the guy punching a gay, Black woman in the face needs to work harder to earn it. Bit of wasted talent.

The Bedroom Window Starts well. Man starts an affair with his boss' wife, their first night together she witnesses an attempted murder from his window, she worries going to the police will reveal the affair to her husband, so the man reports her testimony to the cops claiming he's the one who saw it. Young Isabelle Huppert is the perfect woman for a guy to risk his career on a crush over, and Young Steve Guttenberg is the perfect balance of affability and amorality. And it flows great - picks just the right media to res. So then he's talking to the cops, telling them what she told him, and they ask questions he forgot to ask her - was the perp's jacket a blazer or a windbreaker? - and he has to guess. Then he gets called into the police lineup, and one guy matches her description really well, but is it just because he's wearing his red hair the way she described it? He can't be sure, doesn't finger any of them. He finds out the cops were pretty certain about one of the guys, so he follows the one he thinks it was around, looking for more evidence, and another girl is attacked right outside a bar he knows the redhead was at. Now he's certain! But he shows the boss' wife the guy and she's not certain, and she reminds him they don't even know if the guy he followed is the same guy the police suspected! And as he feeds more evidence to the cops, he has to lie more, because he can't exactly say he was tailing the guy around the city. So, I'm all in now. Maybe it's because I'd so recently rewatched Night Moves and Cutter's Way, but this seems like another story about uncertainty. He's really certain about the guy because it fits narratively, and we, the audience, feel the same. But he's not actually a witness, he doesn't have actual evidence, he's fitting bits and pieces together like a conspiracy theorist. He's fixating on what he wants to be true. Sign me up! But then it turns out he's 100% correct about who the killer is but his lies are found out and now the cops think he's the killer and I realize, oh, no, this movie isn't nearly as smart as I thought it was. Egg on my face! What transpires for the remaining half of the runtime is goofy as hell, and someone with shlockier sensibilities could have made a meal of it, but Hanson, despite being a Corman protege, takes this silliness seriously in the all wrong ways. Next!

Homicide (rw? I think I saw most of this on TV one time) Homicide centers around the conflicted loyalties of a Jewish cop. It opens with the Jewish cop and his white gentile partner taking over a case with a Black perp from some Black FBI agents. The media is making a big thing about the racial implications of the mostly white cops chasing down a Black man in a Black neighborhood. And inside of 15 minutes the FBI agent is calling the lead a k*ke and the gentile cop is calling the FBI agent a f****t and there's all kinds of invective for Black people. The film is announcing its intentions out the gate: this movie is about race. But the issue here is David Mamet doesn't care about race as anything other than a dramatic device. He's the Ubisoft of filmmakers, having no coherent perspective on social issues but expecting accolades for even bringing them up. Mamet is Jewish (though lead actor Joe Mantegna definitely is not) but what is his position on the Jewish diaspora? The whole deal is Mantegna gets stuck with a petty homicide case instead of the big one they just pinched from the Feds, where a Jewish candy shop owner gets shot in what looks like a stickup. Her family tries to appeal to his Jewishness to get him to take the case seriously, and, after giving them the brush-off for a long time, finally starts following through out of guilt, finding bits and pieces of what may or may not be a conspiracy, with Zionist gun runners and underground neo-Nazis. But, again: all of these are just dramatic devices. Mantegna's Jewishness (those words will never not sound ridiculous together) has always been a liability for him as a cop (we are told, not shown), and taking the case seriously is a reclamation of identity. The Jews he finds community with sold tommyguns to revolutionaries during the founding of Israel. These Jews end up blackmailing him to get a document from the evidence room. So: what is the film's position on placing stock in one's Jewish identity? What is its position on Israel? What is its opinion on Palestine? Because all three come up! And the answer is: Mamet doesn't care. You can read it a lot of different ways. Someone with more context and more patience than me could probably deduce what the de facto message is, the way Chris Franklin deduced the de facto message of Far Cry V despite the game's efforts not to have one, but I'm not going to. Mantegna's attempt to reconnect with his Jewishness gets his partner killed, gets the guy he was supposed to bring in alive shot dead, gets him possibly permanent injuries, gets him on camera blowing up a store that's a front for white nationalists, and all for nothing because the "clues" he found (pretty much exclusively by coincidence) were unconnected nothings. The problem is either his Jewishness, or his lifelong failure to connect with his Jewishness until late in life. Mamet doesn't give a shit. (Like, Mamet canonically doesn't give a shit: he is on record saying social context is meaningless, characters only exist to serve the plot, and there are no deeper meanings in fiction.) Mamet's ping-pong dialogue is fun, as always, and there are some neat ideas and characters, but it's all in service of a big nothing that needed to be a something to work.

Swoon So much I could talk about, let's keep it to the most interesting bits. Hommes Fatales: a thing about classic noir that it was fascinated by the marginal but had to keep it in the margins. Liberated women, queer-coded killers, Black jazz players, broke thieves; they were the main event, they were what audiences wanted to see, they were what made the movies fun. But the ending always had to reassert straightlaced straight, white, middle-class male society as unshakeable. White supremacist capitalist patriarchy demanded, both ideologically and via the Hays Code, that anyone outside these norms be punished, reformed, or dead by the movie's end. The only way to make them the heroes was to play their deaths for tragedy. It is unsurprising that neo-noir would take the queer-coded villains and make them the protagonists. Implicature: This is the story of Leopold and Loeb, murderers famous for being queer, and what's interesting is how the queerness in the first half exists entirely outside of language. Like, it's kind of amazing for a movie from 1992 to be this gay - we watch Nathan and Dickie kiss, undress, masturbate, fuck; hell, they wear wedding rings when they're alone together. But it's never verbalized. Sex is referred to as "your reward" or "what you wanted" or "best time." Dickie says he's going to have "the girls over," and it turns out "the girls" are a bunch of drag queens, but this is never acknowledged. Nathan at one point lists off a bunch of famous men - Oscar Wild, E.M. Forster, Frederick the Great - but, though the commonality between them is obvious (they were all gay), it's left the the audience to recognize it. When their queerness is finally verbalized in the second half, it's first in the language of pathology - a psychiatrist describing their "perversions" and "misuse" of their "organs" before the court, which has to be cleared of women because it's so inappropriate - and then with slurs from the man who murders Dickie in jail (a murder which is written off with no investigation because the victim is a gay prisoner instead of a L&L's victim, a child of a wealthy family). I don't know if I'd have noticed this if I hadn't read Chip Delany describing his experience as a gay man in the 50's existing almost entirely outside of language, the only language at the time being that of heteronormativity. Murder as Love Story: L&L exchange sex as payment for the other commiting crimes; it's foreplay. Their statements to the police where they disagree over who's to blame is a lover's quarrel. Their sentencing is a marriage. Nathan performs his own funeral rites over Dickie's body after he dies on the operating table. They are, in their way, together til death did they part. This is the relationship they can have. That it does all this without romanticizing the murder itself or valorizing L&L as humans is frankly incredible.

Suture (rw) The pitch: at the funeral for his father, wealthy Vincent Towers meets his long lost half brother Clay Arlington. It is implied Clay is a child from out of wedlock, possibly an affair; no one knows Vincent has a half-brother but him and Clay. Vincent invites Clay out to his fancy-ass home in Arizona. Thing is, Vincent is suspected (correctly) by the police of having murdered his father, and, due to a striking family resemblence, he's brought Clay to his home to fake his own death. He finagles Clay into wearing his clothes and driving his car, and then blows the car up and flees the state, leaving the cops to think him dead. Thing is, Clay survives, but with amnesia. The doctors tell him he's Vincent, and he has no reason to disagree. Any discrepancy in the way he looks is dismissed as the result of reconstructive surgery after the explosion. So Clay Arlington resumes Vincent Towers' life, without knowing Clay Arlington even exists. The twist: Clay and Vincent are both white, but Vincent is played by Michael Harris, a white actor, and Clay is played by Dennis Haysbert, a Black actor. "Ian, if there's just the two of them, how do you know it's not Harris playing a Black character?" Glad you asked! It is most explicitly obvious during a scene where Vincent/Clay's surgeon-cum-girlfriend essentially bringing up phrenology to explain how Vincent/Clay couldn't possibly have murdered his father, describing straight hair, thin lips, and a Greco-Roman nose Haysbert very clearly doesn't have. But, let's be honest: we knew well beforehand that the rich-as-fuck asshole living in a huge, modern house and living it up in Arizona high society was white. Though Clay is, canonically, white, he lives an poor and underprivileged life common to Black men in America. Though the film's title officially refers to the many stitches holding Vincent/Clay's face together after the accident, "suture" is a film theory term, referring to the way a film audience gets wrapped up - sutured - in the world of the movie, choosing to forget the outside world and pretend the story is real. The usage is ironic, because the audience cannot be sutured in; we cannot, and are not expected to, suspend our disbelief that Clay is white. We are deliberately distanced. Consequently this is a movie to be thought about, not to to be felt. It has the shape of a Hitchcockian thriller but it can't evoke the emotions of one. You can see the scaffolding - "ah, yes, this is the part of a thriller where one man hides while another stalks him with a gun, clever." I feel ill-suited to comment on what the filmmakers are saying about race. I could venture a guess about the ending, where the psychiatrist, the only one who knows the truth about Clay, says he can never truly be happy living the lie of being Vincent Towers, while we see photographs of Clay/Vincent seemingly living an extremely happy life: society says white men simply belong at the top more than Black men do, but, if the roles could be reversed, the latter would slot in seamlessly. Maybe??? Of all the movies in this collection, this is the one I'd most want to read an essay on (followed by Swoon).

The Last Seduction (dnrw) No, no, no, I am not rewataching this piece of shit movie.

Brick (rw) Here's my weird contention: Brick is in color and in widescreen, but, besides that? There's nothing neo- about this noir. There's no swearing except "hell." (I always thought Tug said "goddamn" at one point but, no, he's calling The Pin "gothed-up.") There's a lot of discussion of sex, but always through implication, and the only deleted scene is the one that removed ambiguity about what Brendan and Laura get up to after kissing. There's nothing postmodern or subversive - yes, the hook is it's set in high school, but the big twist is that it takes this very seriously. It mines it for jokes, yes, but the drama is authentic. In fact, making the gumshoe a high school student, his jadedness an obvious front, still too young to be as hard as he tries to be, just makes the drama hit harder. Sam Spade if Sam Spade were allowed to cry. I've always found it an interesting counterpoint to The Good German, a movie that fastidiously mimics the aesthetics of classic noir - down to even using period-appropriate sound recording - but is wholly neo- in construction. Brick could get approved by the Hays Code. Its vibe, its plot about a detective playing a bunch of criminals against each other, even its slang ("bulls," "yegg," "flopped") are all taken directly from Hammett. It's not even stealing from noir, it's stealing from what noir stole from! It's a perfect curtain call for the collection: the final film is both the most contemporary and the most classic. It's also - but for the strong case you could make for Night Moves - the best movie on the list. It's even more appropriate for me, personally: this was where it all started for me and noir. I saw this in theaters when it came out and loved it. It was probably my favorite movie for some time. It gave me a taste for pulpy crime movies which I only, years later, realized were neo-noir. This is why I looked into Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and In Bruges. I've seen it more times than any film on this list, by a factor of at least 3. It's why I will always adore Rian Johnson and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. It's the best-looking half-million-dollar movie I've ever seen. (Indie filmmakers, take fucking notes.) I even did a script analysis of this, and, yes, it follows the formula, but so tightly and with so much style. Did you notice that he says several of the sequence tensions out loud? ("I just want to find her." "Show of hands.") I notice new things each time I see it - this time it was how "brushing Brendan's hair out of his face" is Em's move, making him look more like he does in the flashback, and how Laura does the same to him as she's seducing him, in the moment when he misses Em the hardest. It isn't perfect. It's recreated noir so faithfully that the Innocent Girl dies, the Femme Fatale uses intimacy as a weapon, and none of the women ever appear in a scene together. 1940's gender politics maybe don't need to be revisited. They say be critical of the media you love, and it applies here most of all: it is a real criticism of something I love immensely.

#film noir #neo-noir #criterion channel

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slowpoke-fics · 3 years ago

Text

The Run | The Good Doctor pt 3

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Negan x Reader slow burn

Summary: You had a bit more responsibility than you'd expected, not to say you didn't know what you were doing

Warnings: none really, cussing, ooc Negan, slow burn, it's cute, I miss some and am not perfect, read at your own risk

A/N: This is part three to the Good Doctor Part 3! Thank you for being patient and I hope to have part four up much quicker. I liked this even though it's just some logistical stuff and insight, here is part two!

Maybe he thinks he can fix me, sucks for him, I'm broken beyond repair.

When you woke up, Negan had his hand on your shoulder, you immediately grabbed the gun under your pillow, holding it under his chin. He immediately grabbed the gun and twisted it out of your hands, your eyes now fully open and awake. You didn't realize he was eye level with you, how hot it was for him to control your gun like that, how hot he was staring into your eyes, waiting for your next move. You were frozen, you're not sure he equated it with anything but sleep, but he was captivating.

He laughed, hands up, "Damn, doll, just trying to fuckin' wake you up without fuckin' scaring you, see that was fuckin' pointless," his eyebrows raised as he shook the gun by the barrel at you, "you want it back or not?" You shook your head in disbelief as you took your gun and put it down, shocked that you held a gun to someone for just trying to wake you up. "I-I'm sorry, I guess it was just-" Negan laughed, "No worries, doll, at least I know you can take care of yourself."

You smiled, throwing the blanket off of you and swinging your legs over the couch, “So,” you stood up and began folding the blanket, “what’s the plan?” He watched you fold the blanket, not trying to hide the fact that his eyes roamed your body. Taking in the battered bluejeans that hugged your body, the scratched and slightly torn tank top, your hair shining against the sun, really popping the color out. “We’re going to drive a little longer than I’d hoped but,” he huffed, “the towns supposed to have some more supplies left than we’d originally thought, we should be back by dark.” You shrugged, “Should be fun, are we ready to leave now?”

Negan leaned against the desk, you took all of him in. He was wearing his classic leather jacket over the tattered t-shirt and blue jeans that laid over his steel toe boots. He watched as you put your hair into a pony tail, shirt playing peekaboo with the skin on your torso, “Right after breakfast doll. You ready?” You nodded at him, heading to the door with him following close behind.

Once you had sat down for breakfast Negan started shoveling food down, a full plate compared to your half rations. You didn’t really have much of an appetite, worried about everything that could happen with Negan today. He didn’t seem to notice, and by the time you’d finished your small plate, he was already done eating too. He grabbed your plate so he could return it with his own. You picked up the bags and followed suit, following him out the door and to his truck.

The truck was huge. Had to have been able to fit half of Alexanndria's storage. You’d wondered how much he was planning to come back with. It started to make a little more sense when a small portion of his crew jumped into the back, probably for protection. You climbed into the truck after Negan opened the door for you, closing it once he’d known your feet were out of the way. Then proceeding to climb in his own side.

Negan started the truck, taking you in before he started rolling. Your legs crossed, fingers interlocked at the top of your thighs, thumbs picking at each other, ankle continuously moving. You watched the trucks behind you, following close, at least three others. Did all of them have people in the back? How big was this run?

You were clearly nervous and he hated that, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. He tried to ignore it, but after fifteen minutes of non stop thought through his head, he had to say something. "God damn doll," Negan bellowed, "you're gonna roll the damn truck if you don't stop shaking so much," Negan lightly rubbed your forearm, a foreign thing to you, "what're ya so fuckin' nervous about anyway princess?"

You shrugged, a look of uneasiness resting on your face at his nickname for you that didn't go unnoticed, "Just don't know how to act with your group, what're your run rules? Where do I not be in the way? Will I distract you and your men? I'm used to going solo, or with one or two people. There's so-" Negan had to stop your monologue, knowing you've asked these questions twenty times since yesterday. "Don't fuckin' worry about it," Negan smiled, "I made sure this was gonna be fun for you." Your eyebrows curled, needing him to explain.

Negan blushed? No way, you thought and left it alone. "What do you mean?" He shrugged, "You'll see, won't you doll?" You huffed, "Well that just makes me more nervous." Negan let out a hearty laugh, "Damn girl, pull at this old assholes strings huh?" He shook his head, "I'm your personal companion today," he giggled at your slap to his arm. "I don't need a baby sitter!" He raised he hands very quickly to show defense, "No! But, wherever you go, I do. Whatever you fuckin' say, that's law. Everyone else goes at your direction too," he paused, looking at you, "but you don't leave my fuckin' sight," his eyes bore into you, demanding confirmation. "Yeah, okay," you smiled lightly.

"So," Negan's fingers drilled the steering wheel as he hummed at you to continue, "what's in this place?" Negan shifted, "It's a little town, the rest is a surprise." He looked genuinely excited, and you wondered how this apocalypse had changed him as a man. He couldn't have always been this heartless. "Do I get any hints?" Negan hummed again, this time searching for something to give you, "You'll fuckin' like it." You shrugged, "Maybe." He glanced to your bag where you keep your notebook, a gentle reminder of his broken trust. "Oh," you cleared your throat, "hopefully." He beamed at you, "Come on lil' fuckin' firecracker," he pressed the gas a couple more times, gently swerving the car to play with you, "be more fuckin' excited! I'm fuckin' kidding!"

The rest of the way you could believe how different Negan was being. He was intently talking to you about the grid of the town, what his crew already know about, how his crew has already been briefed that you're running it, explained the teams to you and that you're header, leading the team leaders, and he's told you that he's confident you have this ability. You were shocked about him being completely different man that with other people. You were sure that you could be with the man sitting in the truck with you, and you were sure that you couldn't be with the man who murdered someone you considered to be your brother. You were torn between seeing his good and never forgiving him for killing Glenn, how could he do something so vile? You shook your head, drawing attention back to the road and off of your thoughts.

When you arrived, Negan placed his hand on your thigh, just barely touching you. "There is one rule," he smiled, "stay here." Negan was gone for no more than two minutes. He finally came to your door, opening it and revealing his many men standing behind him, "Make sure you're safe." He reached for your hand, dropping you down to the same man who stole from you in your clinic, you glared him hiding behind Negan.

Negan stepped out of the way, the man looking guilty, "Hello, Doctor Y/n," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for stealing from an honorable woman." He handed you a gum pack, missing a few pieces, and a small pack of skittles, "I couldn't find gum to replace what I'd stolen, so I hoped that the skittles would excuse my poor manners." You smiled hatefully at him, taking what was in his hand, "Apology accepted..." you waited for him to say his name, but Negan chimed in. "Brady," and he slapped the other man on the shoulder eliciting a smile, "and Simon." You smiled, reaching your hand out to shake Simon's hand, "I've heard." Negan smiled at you, "Good we're all fuckin' aquatinted," he roughly slapped Brady's shoulder, you didn't miss the wince he tried to hide, "these two travel with us period. So, Y/n," a bright smile, "what's the fucking plan?"

With that you noticed the other men had cleared a path for you, letting you view the town. At this point you took in the town, looking at the tiny shops and small streets. Negan wasn't kidding, it's a small town, surely the four trucks you bought could fit everything. You thought for a second, and it hit you, how much work he had put into this. You smiled to yourself, knowing that he wanted to make this go smoothly for you, hence the perfect amount of trucks, a grid, briefed men.

You walked a little behind you, looking at the different streets, looking at Negan, he smiled, giving you some confidence. "You said that you'd already separated these men by trucks? With their usual teams?" You whispered to Negan, "Yes ma'am, they're with their usual team leaders and already armored, just need you to tell them where to go n what to do."

"Okay, so here's my plan-" Negan put his hand up, gesturing to the men when you realized you should be talking to them. You cleared your throat, "Okay, so here's the plan," Negan's body was just barely pressing against you, standing behind you on your left side, his hands in his pockets, watching his men intently listen to you. How hard did he work on this for you?

"If you came in Negan's truck, you're with us on main," you motioned with your hand to have them move to the side, "Truck two-or rather-team two, you're going to our left, Combs Street, when you get to the library, we're looking for education books, if we have time and space after you've gotten everything else essential on the street, comb the library taking the fun books, that's a good part of life now." Negan nodded, liking your plan for education first, noting that the houses on the street might hold value, but acknowledging that we still need distractions like 'fun books' if circumstances allowed.

"Truck three, hit the residential area, on Langley Street," you continued when the men nodded their heads, "Truck four, hit the shops to our right on second street," everyone started moving and you shouted, "wait!" You cleared your throat once again, "Team leaders, I need you and your right hand man, everyone else stay put."

You pulled out the grid as the men surrounded you, "So you've got the left and right sides on your street, split in half, half on Side A, the left, half on side B, the right, this will increase the time we can spend in the houses and avoid stepping on each others feet. Every time you clear a house you call it in, for example, team four A, you would say 'Team Four, A1 clear, moving to A2,' or 'Team Four A Trapped, requesting Four B at A3.' I need you to do this so I can designate resources and men, keep up with the lives and walkers. No need for needless death, check in." Everyone nodded, you smiled, "Anybody have questions, comments or concerns?" The men shook their heads and you turned back towards the crowd, "Alright, everyone knows what you're doing, no-one goes anywhere alone or unarmed. Take everything useful. Do not let your guard down and watch your backs. Dismissed." At that the men dissipated, going on their own assignments.

"Was that okay?" You looked to Negan, the need for approval swimming through your eyes, Negan nodded, "I think it was great, Simon what about you?" Simon chirped up, "Oh yeah, couldn't have done it better myself, I don't make them check in that much but that's okay." You smiled at Simon, wondering how he could not worry about his men that much. You watched as Team One had already started moving toward the first building, them the first check-ins started.

"Team One, heading to A1," a pause, "Team One, heading to B1," another pause, "Team Two, heading to A1." You listened to the team list off their locations, smiling as everyone checked in. "Alright, doll," Negan leaned against the truck, "Where to first?"

#twd negan #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #negan x y/n #negan angst #negan fluff #negan x you #negan imagine #negan fic #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #Jdm fanfic

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midorree · 4 years ago

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How (I Think) Quirk-based Discrimination Works In BNHA

I've seen a lot of claims about how people interpret the quirk-based discrimination from an ableism allegory (not quite) to actually comparing it to Jim Crow laws, which is completely out of pocket. Quirk based discrimination in BNHA is very unique, especially with quirks not existing for very long in the grand scheme of things. Trying to compare it to existing forms of discrimination (that, mind you, exist in the fucking show) is simply put, not accurate in the slightest. Racism has existed for long enough for it to be embedded into our everyday lives and systems. Ableism has existed long enough that it affects how we view disabled people as people and how doctors view their disabled patients. Quirk-based discrimination has not.

PART 1: Comparing and Contrasting: Ableism

I've had this conversation a couple times with my friends, and typically we find that ableism doesn't match up with qbd. First and foremost, let's define a disability.

[Image ID: disability: a physical or mental condition that limits a person's movements, senses, or activities. A disadvantage or a handicap, especially one imposed or recognized by the law. End Image ID]

Quirkless people do not meet this standard definition unless they are already disabled. Being quirkless does not limit movements, senses, or activities in any way shape or form. Being quirkless is not a hindrance in every day life when it comes to these specific criteria.

But why would people thing that being quirkless is the same as being disabled? Let's take a look at accommodations and accessibility.

In the BNHA universe, quirks have existed for long enough that people with mutation quirks that alter their body significantly can comfortably buy clothes as seen with Shoji in some occasions.

[Image ID: Shoji is wearing baggy, patterned pants tucked into laced boots and is wearing a tank top. End ID]

He is able to buy shirts with bigger sleeve holes rather than having to fix his clothing so that he may be able to wear it himself. This is also seen with UA making a uniform so that he can fit without him having to work excessively for it.

[Image ID: Shoji wearing UA uniform. The uniform has no sleeves. End ID]

Why does this matter? Because Shoji is a perfect example of how small accommodations for people mutation quirks exists idly in the BNHA universe. Everyone has a different quirk and require different accommodations, and with Quirkless people, when it comes to buying clothes, or walking up steps, or going comfortably to a restaurant it's never a problem! Assuming they are able-bodied/neurotypical, they truly won't have a problem with getting by in day to day life.

However, there is one thing I will say is similar to ableism in this aspect: how doctors would treat quirkless people. With the opening episodes/chapters of BNHA we see firsthand how a doctor treats a child who is quirkless. Uncaring, cold, and straight to the point as to let them down as hard as they can saying "you might as well get used to it." The doctor had little to no belief that Izuku would become a hero, saying that he should pursue other careers instead. It's not a perfect match up, but I'd say in my personal experience it's pretty similar.

PART 2: Racism in BNHA

I'm not going to dwell long on this one because it's frankly very tone deaf and not very thought out to be comparing qbd to actual racism.

[Image ID: White text on a black background that states: What was worse, he would now be forces to keep his family from visiting or even living in America. It was never talked about openly, but the way quirkless were treated in the States came very close to how they handled different races with the Jim Crow laws of the past. He would never subject his Izuku to that kind of hatred. End Image ID]

There's a lot to unpack here, but let me preface this by saying this: qbd and centuries upon centuries of racial discrimination are not the same thing, especially considering racism exists in the show/manga itself. Big Yikes.

Let's start by defining what Jim Crow laws were.

[Image ID: Jim Crow laws were a collection of state and local statutes that legalized racial segregation. Named after a Black minstrel show character, the laws—which existed for about 100 years from the post-Civil War era until 1968—were meant to marginalize African Americans by denying them the right to vote, hold jobs, get an education or other opportunities. Those who attempted to defy Jim Crow laws often faces arrest, fines, jail sentences, violence and death. End Image ID]

So lets make a hypothetical and say quirkless people were treated like this. Okay, what would be an identifying factor in discrimination? Would quirkless people have to tell employers their quirk status? Possibly. Would the right to vote be revoked? Due to what? Would they be held back in educational places? Why would they be?

There are too many unanswered questions as to why these things would happen. The Jim Crow laws happened due to white entitlement after the enslavement of an entire race. Qbd happens because of inherent power dynamics (which I will get into later), and while racial discrimination has that factor, it has existed way longer and is more prevalent in society. What if a quirkless person was a quirkless person of color? Think on that.

There are also heroes of color that exist in the show, and racist caricatures of people of color.

[Image ID: Pro Hero: Native with a shocked expression and some sweat dripping down his face. End Image ID]

This fucker right here.

The BNHA universe has existing racism in and out of canon, seeing as the black/brown characters are underrated outside of the show, and microaggressed within the show.

PART 3: Kacchan vs Deku 3: How Did Deku Being Quirkless Affect Their Relationship And Why?

The line "not all men are created equal" really stuck with me while writing and thinking about this meta. Deku has understood and worked through social dynamics and understandings since he was four years old. He's understood that since he's quirkless, people with quirks hold power over him that he can't defend himself against. He understands this, and chooses to roll with the punches.

Bakugou also very much understands how social dynamics work, and chooses to use it to his advantage. He bullies Deku as a boast of power rather than a boast of privileged. It's been drilled into young Katsuki's head that quirkless people are weak, and that he is strong, His teachers are seen encouraging this behavior and the adults around him tend to not view him as a person, but as an existing beam of potential. Propaganda probably exists even in his Sunday cartoons. The strongest people he looks up to all have quirks, and he makes that correlation of quirk = strong at a very young age. He learns that quirkless ≠ strong. A part of me feels like this is intentional.

Izuku being quirkless would put him at the bottom of the food chain, in a sense, and anyone who had a quirk would be listened to more than he ever would. Izuku learned that not all men are equal because of the inherent power dynamics that come with having the ability to fly, or create explosions, or use fucking fire and ice on command, because he realizes he will never be stronger than Kacchan (at least for now). Even Izuku's idols who he considered to be strong and amazing and admirable were people with quirks. People with power over him.

When Izuku got OFA, the playing field shifted, and Katsuki was afraid and confused. Just because Izuku got a quirk, that doesn't mean Katsuki's view on quirkless people changed. We don't know if it did because its never addressed. He has made significant character development and is working to atone with Deku, but would that still happen if Deku had stayed quirkless? We don't know.

PART 4: Conclusion

The BNHA fandom has a lot of views on how qbd might work, but these are just my thoughts. These are all my opinions and if you'd like to add something feel free to! I just hate the fact that qbd is being compared to actual racism when that just doesn't apply and wanted to weigh in my two cents. Qbd, in my opinion, is all about power dynamics and how easily that can be abused.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero acadamia #bnha meta #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #this is my first time making a meta lmao #mha #pinned it bc im proud of this

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years ago

Text

A Broken System

MASTERLIST

Summary: At her birthday celebration, Y/N is out on the town enjoying herself when she runs into a cute FBI agent who she’d love to take home and do terrible things to. Normally, someone meeting an FBI agent at a bar wouldn’t be that big of a deal. There’s just one, miniscule, microscopic, meager, problem... Y/N is only twenty.

tags: Large Age Difference, power imbalance, choking, Dom/sub, safe sex, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, cliffhanger.

A/N: this just made so much more sense in third person. i tried replacing it with second person, but trust me it did not work. hope you enjoy! gif by @toyboxboy

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5,930

Spencer Reid never really thought he was attractive.

Probably had something to do with his perpetually messy hair, gangly stature, and his tendency to ramble on and on and on and. . .

Yeah. Like that.

Another factor definitely was the fact that he was in his 30’s and had never really had a stable relationship. Sure, he’d had relationships with a few women. Well, two women. The first being a girl he’d met in college with whom he had a brief fling. Spencer didn’t really count it as a stable relationship due to the fact they barely even kissed. And the other woman, the only woman he’d ever really loved, died tragically several years ago.

Maeve.

Maeve was the real reason Spencer didn’t like going to bars with Morgan or being set up on dates by Penelope. She was the reason that Spencer wasn’t interested in anyone anymore. Who could possibly compare to Maeve?

Damn it. That was the other reason he wasn’t looking to date. He knew how the mind worked and there was no doubt that if any new person came into his life, she’d be unconsciously compared to Maeve. He couldn’t put anyone through that.

So, Spencer Reid stayed single. Which, for him, was relatively easy. Whenever someone started to get a little too close with him, he’d blabber and spout facts until they ran off. Morgan would ask what happened and Reid would just put on a slight frown, mumbling how she had to go.

The charade got more effortless the more they went out. Morgan, almost always going home on the arm of some woman and Spencer content to get a cab back to his own place, have a quick efficient orgasm, and fall asleep.

He had a system. And no one was going to break it.

Y/N hated the summertime.

Well, she didn’t usually. Anywhere else on the planet it would be mildly enjoyable. The beach, ice cream, staying up all night. All that fun crap. In Washington D.C, however, summer was hell.

But! When one was accepted into Georgetown and their parents offered to pay FULL tuition plus housing, how can one say no?

Seriously, she wanted to know.

After two whole years in this armpit of a town, Y/N had finally gotten used to the sweltering heat that plagued the city during the summer. Whatever. She just stayed in the comfortable A.C. all day anyway.

But, the summer before her third year was almost over, and the only thing she could think about now was graduating with a major in Journalism. She didn’t really like most of the courses, but it’s what she needed to do to become a full-time editor.

Living in a rent-free apartment was heaven. No roommates meant no worrying about, well, anything. The only problem was, her parents could hold it over her head every time they called. Which is why she never answered their calls.

Today, however, answering was unavoidable.

Because not only was it the day before her first class, today was her twentieth birthday.

Y/N was in the middle of getting dressed to go out with her friends when her phone vibrated from the kitchen table.

“Hello?”

She tried so hard to suppress the cringe at her mom’s voice.

“Sweetie! How are you? Are you eating?”

“Yes, mom.”

Oh boy. Strong start, mom.

“You look skinny in the pictures on Facebook!”

Yeah, she was definitely going to be late.

Surprisingly, it only took five minutes to push her mom off the phone, insisting that her friends were on their way and she had to keep getting ready.

A sharp rap on the door saved her.

“Come on!! It’s almost ten!” Y/N’s friend, Mina, said, annoyed. “All the old people leave the bars at ten and if we don’t get there soon, the bouncers won’t let us in!”

Y/N didn’t really understand the logic there. Hot girls always got into bars. Especially late at night. How were there not more crimes committed in clubs? Maybe she’d find out in her first class tomorrow.

“Hey!” Mina snapped her out of it, “Come on! Let’s go.”

They arrived outside a dinky little club a few minutes later. It had taken Y/N a while to get accustomed to how close everything was together in this town. Before college, she had been a small-town girl. Promise ring and everything. That, uh. That didn’t last long.

Before they got in line, Mina took a long satin sash out of her purse and secured it across Y/N’s torso.

“What the hell’s this?”

The sash was white with large pink flowy letters that poignantly spelled out: Birthday Bitch.

“It’s a sash.”

Three of Mina’s friends strode up, quickly exchanging hugs and wishing Y/N a happy birthday.

“I see that it’s a sash, but why am I wearing it?”

Mina confidently strode up to the bouncer, Y/N at her side, fake ID at the ready. Technically, it was the right birthdate, the year was just a little off.

“Go through. Happy Birthday,” the guy said, barely sparing the ID a glance, more focused on the huge sash. It made sense. She didn’t look her age. No one would think she was only in college by taking a glance at her.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Look,” Mina pulled her aside just before they entered, “this makes every single guy in there want to buy you a drink. So, go enjoy a free Shirley Temple, on me.”

Y/N scoffed and entered the club, immediately overwhelmed by the booming of the music.

Jesus Christ. How did people not die from this? It felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

Sure, she’d been in a bar before. But not a real, proper club. She was pretty sure she saw some people wearing neon. Oh my god, there was a DJ.

Suppressing a laugh, she headed to the bar. At least there was a bar. There were so many people gathered around though that she couldn’t get much access to the one bartender on staff.

Luckily, he spotted her sash that seemed to shine under the blacklights.

“Hey, make some room for the birthday girl!”

And the crowd parted like the red sea, every man’s head turned towards her, and she cautiously approached the bartender who gave her a quick wink.

“Scotch. Neat.”

A dark man with a silver nose ring slid onto the stool next to her.

“It’s on me,” he addressed the bartender, staring at her the whole time. “So. Birthday girl. How old are you turning?”

She smiled softly. The sash was working great, but now she had to come up with a way to answer his question without explicitly lying.

“Who wants to know?”

Maybe flirting would be distracting enough.

He smiled, glancing down for a moment, then holding out his hand. Ha. Men.

“I’m Jon.”

Ugh. She hated handshakes. But for this man, she might be able to make an exception.

“Y/N.”

Five minutes later, she wished with all her heart she could take the handshake back. Y/N should have known better than to talk to a guy at a club. They were all sleazebags. But! She did manage to get a couple of drinks out of it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said after his fifth time mentioning Outback Steakhouse.

But before she could leave the bar discreetly, a hand wrapped around her arm, yanking her back.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I thought we were talking?”

Y/N may have been a small-town girl, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing his shoulders and driving her knee up into his crotch, stomping off toward the exit.

Only when she got outside did she realize how fast her heart was beating. She leaned over, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

A soft hand on her shoulder made her snap around, grab the hand and twist it around the stranger’s back, shoving him up against the alley wall.

“I’m sorry!” the man squawked shrilly. “I’m sorry!” It wasn’t Jon.

“What were you doing?” she demanded, not releasing him yet.

“I saw you lean over. I just wanted to see if you were ok!”

She finally drank in the man’s appearance. He was wearing a soft purple sweater vest over a grey button-down, slacks, and worn black converse on his feet.

Confident that he wasn’t a threat, she released him and took a step back.

The man rubbed his elbow softly, glancing at her chest. Before she could tell him off for staring at her rack, he pointed to the sash.

“Is it your birthday?”

She looked down. Oh, he’d been looking at the sash of course. Then why did she feel … disappointed?

“Oh, yeah. Some guy bought me a drink and got a little, er, touchy.”

Suddenly, the man’s face went dark.

“Who is he? Where is he?”

He started to walk back into the club but she stopped him, reaching out and gently grabbing his arm.

“Hey! It’s fine. I kicked him in the crotch.”

The man’s eyes switched from anger to surprise in a flash. He flustered for a moment, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking back into the alley.

Y/N now took a closer look at his face. He had deep, wise brown eyes, a small five-o-clock shadow gracing his jaw, and very full lips, the latter of which he was biting profusely. Aw. He was nervous. But why?

Maybe because he was in an alley with a random girl who had just been groped at a club and he didn’t know what to do.

She chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“Um. I didn’t get your name?”

He smiled brightly, thankful for the change in topic.

“Oh! Of course, sorry. I’m Spencer!”

And Y/N braced herself for the telltale outstretching of the hand.

But none came. He simply stood there, one hand in his pocket and the other waving at her, a dopey smile on his face.

Her face lit up.

“You didn’t try to shake my hand,” she muttered, awed.

The man, Spencer, got an embarrassed look on his face, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I, uh. I’m a bit of a germaphobe. But, really, everyone should be! The amount of germs passed in a handshake is staggering. They really should be abolished altogether.”

“Right! People should just bow their heads or, or, wave!” she said excitedly, gesturing to his hand. “I mean a handshake is like a hug with a part of you that comes in contact with everything! Might as well go up to someone and start making out with them.”

As she spoke, his face lit up in wonder.

“Right? It’s crazy! But the thing is, some people actually do that! I was in that club for fifteen minutes and I swear I saw three couples leave together that definitely didn’t go in together.”

“I know!” she said, starting to pace in the cramped alley. “I mean, who goes home with someone that you just met! They could be a serial killer for all you know!”

She looked at Spencer and was delighted to see a joyful expression on his face. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N. Sorry for blabbering,” she waved, chuckling slightly.

Spencer smiled even wider.

“Don’t be sorry! Usually, I’m the one who has to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“Blabbering,” he said sheepishly, hands back in his pockets. When he was talking, they had been moving about wildly. It was kind of endearing.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, considering. “Blabbering is underrated. One could argue it’s the best way to learn useless information.”

“Well, I’d agree but no information is really useless.”

Y/N held up a finger.

“‘Information is useless if it is not applied to something important or if you will forget it before you have a chance to apply it.’”

Spencer’s mouth fell open.

“Timothy Harris?”

She nodded. “The 4-Hour Workweek. Outdated, but still applies.”

When she noticed his expression, it nearly knocked her breath away. He was looking at her like no one ever had before. Like he’d just realized the most important thing in the universe.

Before her cowardice could catch up, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. His face went blank, shocked by the sudden approach. He nearly gasped when she spoke.

“It’s totally ridiculous to go home with someone you just met, right?”

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“Totally.”

“Why were you out tonight in the first place? You don’t exactly seem like the club-going type.”

He smiled softly.

“I, uh, just got a promotion last week. My friend Morgan wanted to take me out to celebrate. It was either this or karaoke.”

She chuckled softly, their faces so close he must have felt her breath.

“I don’t know, I’d have liked to see your rendition of Bad Romance. Has anyone ever told you you’ve got a whole Lady Gaga vibe?”

“You should see my Beyonce.” And he did a little mime of the Single Ladies dance, sending Y/N into a fit of giggles. Without thinking — probably due to the trace amounts of alcohol in her system, not enough to be drunk, but enough to be tipsy — she reached up her arms around his shoulders, clasping them together behind his neck like a teen slow-dancing at prom.

Spencer seemed startled by the sudden physical contact. He froze, hands unmoving at his sides.

Y/N pulled her arms back, stepping away from him, discouraged and embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she said, collecting herself and walking back towards the club door. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Wait!” he called before she could reenter the club. A tiny part of her let out a breath in relief. She turned around to see him with a hand outstretched toward her, frozen with the uncertainty of what to do next.

He recovered quickly, a blush visible on his cheeks in the lamplight of the alley.

“If you’re leaving, would you, um. Could I walk you home?”

She had no idea what possessed her in that moment but just as he spoke, she walked up to Spencer, threaded her fingers through his hair, and pulled him down into a passionate kiss.

To her surprise, he responded immediately, running his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him, eagerly returning the kiss.

His lips were so warm. He tasted very faintly of alcohol and maybe a breath mint? Y/N let herself fall into the sensation.

Suddenly, her back was pressed up against the wall of the alley, Spencer’s hands lighting a trail of fire down her body. He hesitated, pulling back briefly to make sure she was ok.

A glint in her eye, she yanked him back down, tongues clashing together in a blaze of glory. He hiked her leg up around his hips, pressing them closer together. Y/N could feel the hardness in his pants pressing into her stomach, sending a wave of heat down to her core.

She pulled back. If they went any further, she didn’t know if she’d be able to leave the alley.

Y/N tried to hide the smile on her face but it was no use. She beamed at Spencer, linking her arm through his elbow.

“Lead the way. Wait, that doesn’t make sense, you’re taking me home. I’ll lead the way!”

And so they walked, arm in arm down the busy D.C. streets, silently enjoying each other’s company.

They arrived outside her apartment fifteen minutes later, Y/N clumsily unlocking the door, nervous from the thought of what was about to happen. They hadn’t explicitly said anything in particular. Was he going to come in? Would she invite him?

Spencer, it seemed, was also daunted, standing awkwardly on the threshold of her place, hands buried in his pockets.

An idea sprung into Y/N’s brain.

She approached him, wrapping her hands around his neck again only this time, his hands rested lightly on her waist.

“Still think going home with a stranger is a bad idea?”

Spencer chuckled softly, stroking the exposed skin of her waist from where her top had ridden up.

“I’m still debating it.”

“Oh?”

He slid his hand around the sash, fingers hovering above her chest.

“I never asked, how old did you turn?”

She smiled. For some reason, she felt she could trust this man. The worst that could happen was he calls the cops on her for having a fake ID. She could deal with that. Destroy the evidence, bat her eyes. Easy. Besides, he looked barely of age himself. She quickly wondered what he did for a living? He did say he got a promotion.

It would be easiest to just tell him the truth.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this…”

He chuckled lowly in her ear, moving his lips gently across her neck.

“I can handle it.”

She gasped at the sensation, legs clamping together.

“Officially, it’s my twenty-third. At least, that’s what it says on my ID. One of them.”

Spencer froze, waiting for her to go on.

Y/N quickly backtracked.

“It’s okay! I’m twenty! Not a minor, no worries.”

But Spencer pulled away, an extremely worried look on his face despite her assurance.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re underage.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah? Come on, by one year. What, you never had a fake ID?”

“No!” he said shrilly, running a hand through his hair.

“Spencer, it’s ok! It’s not like I’m gonna get caught. I look much older and when are there cops at a place like that?”

He reached into his pocket and fished out a folded wallet. Snapping it open, Y/N’s jaw dropped at the FBI badge with his picture in the corner.

She floundered for a moment, unable to truly comprehend what was happening.

“You’re . . .”

“Yep,” he said shortly, pocketing the badge.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much my reaction too,” he said, sighing. “I should arrest you.”

Y/N took a step back, incredulous.

“Arrest me?”

“You have a fake ID. You’re clearly drunk.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Great idea, Spencer. Book me. Take me down to the FBI and tell them exactly what happened to lead to you finding out I’m only twenty. I’m sure they’ll need very specific details.”

A look of realization flitted across Spencer’s face and he buried his head in his hands, groaning.

“How old are you anyway?!” she demanded, upset at him for being upset.

“Thirty-four!” he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air.

Oh shit.

This was bad.

He was fourteen years older than her, in the FBI, and probably was seconds away from arresting her.

“There’s no way you’re thirty-four. I mean, look at you!”

He rolled his eyes, snorting, and beginning to pace the small hallway.

“This is exactly what I get. I meet a girl I really like for the first time in years and she’s decades younger than me. And a criminal!”

“Hey!” she said, shoving his shoulder. “Not decades. I’m not a criminal. And how the hell do you think I feel? I’m out trying to have fun on my birthday, some guy gropes me leading me to run into the perfect man, take him back to my apartment thinking I’m gonna get lucky only to find out he’s a cop who’s gonna arrest me. Best birthday ever.”

Spencer eyed her carefully.

“Get lucky?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. Shit. She hadn’t meant to reveal that part. Even though it was pretty obvious, something about it not being said added to the excitement.

“Did you really . . . I mean were you…. Um.” Spencer seemed to lose all authoritative tone suddenly, stammering nervously. It was such a 180, it shocked Y/N.

“Was I going to let you fuck me?”

He cringed at the bluntness but nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah, Spencer. I was.” She scoffed. “Honestly, I still would. But I understand if I’m more than you can handle,” she said coyly, trying to keep a straight face. “Just please don’t arrest me, Sir.”

His expression darkened at her words. Something deep and lustful behind it. Feeling bold, she went with it.

“Or is it Agent?” she cocked her head, holding a finger to her lips in thought. “How do I address you properly, sir?”

A small groan left Spencer’s mouth and he stepped forward, brushing a hand over her hair.

“We shouldn’t do this, Y/N…”

Slowly, she backed up into her apartment, pulling him with her.

“We shouldn’t.” She gently led him to her bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed, him towering over her. “To be fair, you’re the one with handcuffs.”

He groaned again, wiping a hand down his face.

“This is a bad idea.”

But he crouched down in front of her, pressing his forehead to her exposed knee, breathing deeply.

“Spencer,” it was barely a whisper but he met her eyes instantly. She smiled gently, reaching out to him and coaxing him up from the floor so he was hovering above her, mouths inches apart. “Listen, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she assured him. “But I want this.”

She leaned back, pulling him with her so he was lying atop her, an obvious bulge pressing against her through their clothing.

“I want this, Spencer.”

Y/N hoped that he knew he could leave if he wanted. She didn’t want to pressure him into anything. Despite the age difference, she seemed to be the one more in control.

Spencer lowered his head, sighing.

“Fuck,” he moaned, lightly thrusting against her, a moan escaping her mouth at the contact.

That seemed to be the last straw.

He sat up, ripping his sweater vest off along with his button-down, quickly moving back over her, lips latching to her neck and chest.

Oh thank god. She wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to stand it if he’d left. But from the way he was touching her, hands moving up and down her sides, gently pulling her skirt down, looking up at her every now and then to make sure it was alright, he wasn’t going anywhere.

She just spurred him on, stripping off her top and bra, now only wearing her panties.

Spencer groaned at the sight, a hand reaching up, hovering over her breast. She arched her back up into his hand, letting out a gasp as he started to fondle her.

God, his hands were huge. And nimble. Oh, so nimble.

She reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tossing it across the room, pushing his pants down faster than possible.

He groaned again, a magical sound, reaching a hand down to stroke her through her panties, coaxing a gasp from her beautiful lips.

In a flash, Spencer had pulled down her panties and buried his head between her legs.

Y/N gasped, hand flying to the back of his head, edging him on.

He slipped two fingers into her, his tongue flicking against her clit wildly, making her writhe and moan on the bed, gasping his name.

“Spencer, Spencer.” It took all the resolve she had to pull his head away from her. “I need you to fuck me.”

Spencer looked at her, trying to read her expression.

“Y/N . . . are you sure?”

Rather than answer, she yanked him up, crashing their mouths together, one hand quickly pushing down his boxers, his erection springing free.

Good god.

Wow.

How the hell was she supposed to fit that inside her?

She looked up at him, impressed, only to see a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Well,” she said, kicking off the panties pooled around her ankles, laid bare underneath the stranger on top of her. “This night gets better by the second.”

His size was a little daunting, but the thought of him slowly filling her up, probably not being able to fit all the way in, only added to her desire.

He dipped his head down, stealing a quick yet passionate kiss.

“Do you have . . ?”

“Yeah, in the drawer.”

He reached over, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on. It looked extremely tight on him. Y/N unconsciously licked her lips. Spencer chuckled.

“Maybe next time. I need to be inside you.”

And with that, he flung her legs around his hips, positioning his cock at her entrance, slowly running it up and down, moistening the condom with her juices.

God. The feeling of him being so close and yet so far was almost enough to push her over the edge right there. He had been a god with his tongue and she was desperate for more friction.

Reaching down, she lightly circled her clit, moaning at the instant pleasure.

Before she could enjoy it much, hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her on the bed, Spencer staring at her with a dark look.

“If you wanna touch yourself, you have to ask permission. Understood?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Words escaped her so she settled for a small nod.

“Use your words.”

His tone was so commanding the word left her mouth the moment he finished speaking.

“Yes.”

He lightly placed his hand around her neck, not applying any pressure, just hovering.

“Yes, what?”

Fuck. She wondered if it was possible to come just from being talked to.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, he slid inside her, slowly filling her up with his length, moaning roughly at the sensation.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, watching as Spencer’s face tightened, jawline even sharper, and a dark look in his eye. He carefully applied a bit more pressure to her throat, quickly releasing his hand afterward.

They were both still as she adjusted to the size of him inside her.

“Is this ok?” his voice sounded so different than it had a moment ago. He had shifted back to the geeky guy she’d met in the alley.

She nodded gently at him, running a hand over his cheek in a way that was surely far too personal for a one night stand.

“My safeword is apple.”

He froze for a moment, shocked. Apparently she was kinkier than he’d expected.

Tired of not being fucked by this man, she dug her heels into his back, directing him to move.

He did without hesitation, groaning at the sensation of slowly pulling out and thrusting back in.

The feeling overwhelmed both of them, a litany of curses and moans falling from their mouths. Spencer’s hand moved back to her throat, squeezing much harder now that he knew what to listen for if she wanted to stop.

The sound of her moaning was enough to make him come right there and then. That, with the feeling of her around him and the fact that his hand was around her throat, totally in control.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

Oh my god, where was this coming from? Her nails scraped down his back, leaving a trail of marks.

“You like feeling me fuck you?” he wrapped a hand around her leg, pulling it higher to try to hit the magical spot inside of her. “You like when I wrap my hand around your pretty little neck? Showing you how in control I am of you.”

She nodded ecstatically, legs tightening around him. She was definitely close to coming.

“What were you thinking? Going to a bar when you’re underage. Then leading a stranger to your home, intending to let him fuck you silly. Finding out I’m ages older than you and still practically begging me to bend you over and pound you till you can’t see straight. Is the age difference what gets you off, Y/N?”

At the sound of her name, she let out a raucous moan, no doubt waking up the other tenants of the building.

Spencer smiled, drilling harder and tightening his grip on her throat.

“Oh, you like it when I say your name? You like when I shove my big cock in you and moan your name in your ear?”

She practically screamed as his hand started to circle her clit, the stimulation practically knocking the air out of her.

He was hitting her g-spot with every thrust, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close. She just needed….

“You gonna come for me, Y/N?” he punctuated it with a particularly hard thrust, feeling her begin to clench around him, orgasm washing over her.

Her walls tightening around his cock was enough to send him barreling over the edge, grunting as he thrust in her four more times before feeling his balls tighten up and spill his seed deep inside her.

“Fuck,” he grunted, using his forearms to stay above her, both of them completely out of breath.

Slowly, he pulled out with a sigh, discarding the condom in the trash by her bed.

Y/N was seeing stars. This man had just given her her first penetrative orgasm. And, possibly the best sex she’d ever had.

‘Fuck’, was right.

Spencer flopped down next to her, still naked, trying to catch his breath.

Y/N turned to him, placing a hand on his chest.

It was strange. Even though they’d just had some of the best sex Y/N had ever had, she didn’t even know this man. And yet, somehow, she felt like she did. Did that happen a lot once you had sex with someone?

Her eyes refocused from where they’d been staring off into space to see a concerned Spencer looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

He studied her for another moment before speaking.

“You were biting your lip.”

A blush crept up her cheek.

“Yeah sorry. Helps me think.”

He let out a sharp breath, a sort of soft laugh.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said as he retrieved his underwear, slipping them back on and starting to button up his shirt.

Oh. Was he going to leave? Of course he was! That’s all this was, anyway. A one night stand. You had sex. That was the point.

Then why did it feel like hell?

“You okay?”

Her thoughts had drifted into space again. Spencer had laid back down, now on his side facing her, holding her hand, looking at her intensely. His gaze was practically burning.

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, I don’t normally do . . . that.”

She chuckled. It was rather obvious he wasn’t the hookup type. Despite the dirty things that had come from his mouth.

“Me either.”

He softly stroked her cheek.

“Are you going to stay?” she blurted.

His face fell.

“Oh, no I wasn’t going to impose if you-”

“NO! I mean,” she took a breath. “I want you to . . . I mean, if you want . . . I'd . . . I’d like you to stay. If you want?”

God. She sounded like a teenager asking their crush to prom. This was no stuttering sophomore she could kick in the crotch if he said no. He was a man. Although, he did tend to stutter. Maybe it wasn’t all that different.

He lit up, a wide smile brightening his features and he began to stroke her hand.

“I’d like that too.”

Wondering if it was possible for cheeks to sprain from smiling, she pulled up the covers, cuddling up against him, falling asleep almost immediately.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Ugh. The stupid alarm. She had been right in the middle of a wonderful dream involving Spencer’s hands and her bruised throat.

What time was it anyway?

The red clock radio proudly displayed: 7:00.

Right, it was the first day of classes. Maybe she’d just ditch and stay in with Spencer. He had been so warm she was sure he had a sun where a heart should be. College didn’t matter anyway, right? Ugh.

A shiver ran through her. She reached out for Spencer, only to find the cold other half of the bed.

Sitting up in bed, she stared at the empty spot.

Had he really walked out on her in the middle of the night? No…. No? Fuck. How could she be so stupid. Of course he didn’t want to-

Oh, he’d left a note.

In a fast yet tidy scrawl, Spencer had left the following message on a little notecard.

Good morning! I am truly sorry to walk out like this, but I have a class at 7:30 and I have to stop by my place and get ready. I’ll be back at the bar tonight, 10:30. I’d love to see you there.

-Spencer. X

Her heart melted into an ocean at the sentiment behind each individual letter. The man she’d just had a dirty one night stand with wanted to see her again.

Wait, he’d said a class? He hadn’t told her he was a student! To be fair, neither had she. That’s another thing they had in common apparently. It made sense why he didn’t tell her. A lot of people were ashamed of going back to college later in life. She thought that was ridiculous. Good for him.

Maybe she could look him up in the student registry. Actually, he may not even go to Georgetown. There were plenty of colleges nearby. She couldn’t have looked him up anyway. She didn’t even know his last name.

It was probably a good thing he left, because she, too, had a class at 7:30.

It only took her twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, and walk the very short distance to campus.

She arrived in the lecture hall with exactly one minute to spare, finding a seat next to a brightly dressed redhead holding a fuzzy pen.

“Hi! I’m Allie.”

“Y/N,” she said, suppressing the cringe as Allie reached out to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you! What’s your major?”

Oh god. The inevitable college question.

“Journalism. You?”

“English,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Super boring I know, but it lets me take fun classes like this one. Why are you taking this class?”

“Oh, um. It looked fun, I guess. My dad was a lawyer and he kind of piqued my interest in the criminal justice system.”

Allie sighed.

“Thank god. You know half the girls are here just because the Professor is a hottie,” she said with air quotes, rolling her eyes again.

“Really?” Y/N asked, glancing around at the seats noticing the vast majority of the population were women. “Wait, I thought Ms. Merklins was the teacher? Did something change?”

“You didn’t get the email? It just went out the other day, Ms. Merklins had to retire. Something about a club foot. Anyway, the new teacher is supposedly super overqualified. Plus, he’s cute.”

“Huh.”

“Yep. I talked to this one girl in the hall, she actually said she’d sleep with him! Can you imagine?”

Y/N laughed.

“Nooooo. I cannot and I don’t want to. I’m just here to learn, I promise.”

“Same here. Although, if I start getting C’s, all bets are off.”

Y/N laughed and politely chatted with Allie while they waited.

The Professor’s office door swung open and Y/N reached into her bag to get her laptop.

“Hello, class.”

“Hello,” the class echoed.

“Welcome to Criminology. I am Professor Reid and I-.”

Y/N looked up over her screen as he stopped talking, making sudden eye-contact with the Professor.

She froze in her seat, blood running cold.

No way. No fucking way.

Spencer?

TAGLIST

@whollytaciturn @101donuts @thegingerfairchild @safertokiss @happyiidiot @cielo1984 @thupidalethea @darkacademiacherry @matthewreid @aloha-ashley-taylor @justchiara-02 @spnobsessedmemes @sweet-darlin @matthewreid

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #smut

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traincat · 3 years ago

Note

I feel like I've read a ton, but I'm honestly still pretty new to comics rn. That being said... What is one more day? Ik we don't like it and it happened a while ago, but that's about it [,=

Time for Spider-Man History With Traincat: Highly Controversial Storylines! And that feeling is totally normal with comics with huge canons -- you can read a ton and still have some fairly big blindspots in your understanding of the total picture. That being said, this is kind of a big one, both in terms of Spider-Man history/canon and in terms of how Spider-Man fandom functions. I would say probably no other storyline has had quite as much impact on how the fandom views and interacts with the source material as One More Day/Brand New Day. It's been the Wild West out here ever since it happened. (Which was in 2007, so like, yes, fairly long ago, especially when you look at how Spider-Man canon has evolved since, but in the grand scheme of things, also kind of recent. One More Day is not old enough to rent a car.)

So when people talk about Spider-Man's One More Day, they're usually actually talking about two related arcs: One More Day and Brand New Day. For the sake of simplicity, I'm going to be covering both. For the sake of transparency, I am going to admit that I think One More Day, as a self-contained story, is good, actually. This is controversial! I admit that! But I stand by my stupid opinions on this blog, for some reason. I think One More Day when you examine it on its own, by which I mean you ignore the decade and a half worth of canon that came after it, as a Spider-Man story and as a PeterMJ-centric story holds up under scrutiny and that people who don't like it don't like complicated love stories and might actually throw their own mothers under buses. No offense to the OMD haters. Little bit of offense to the OMD haters. Brand New Day, which is the continuation of One More Day, on the other hand -- largely bad. Very largely bad.

But let's backtrack. One More Day is a four issue crossover storyline that takes place directly after Civil War, during which Iron Man and Captain America got divorced and divvied up the superhero community and Spider-Man made some startlingly bad decisions and made a fugitive out of himself and his family in a manner that got Aunt May shot, and Spider-Man: Back in Black (Amazing Spider-Man #539–543) which examines Peter's actions immediately after Aunt May is shot and ends with him humiliating the Kingpin in front of an entire prison. One More Day consists of Amazing Spider-Man #544 -> Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #24 -> Sensational Spider-Man v2 #41 -> Amazing Spider-Man #545. In One More Day, Aunt May is dying, all of Peter's efforts to save her have thus far failed, and, consumed by guilt, he is rapidly running out of time. Approached by Mephisto, a literal demon from hell, Peter is offered a deal: Aunt May will live -- and Peter's identity, which was previously revealed to the world at large during Civil War, will once again be hidden from the memories of all but a select few -- if Peter trades him his marriage to Mary Jane. Peter and Mary Jane struggle with this, but eventually both agree to the deal. The clock strikes twelve, the deal is done, and Peter and Mary Jane's marriage fades into history.

(ASM #545) A reasonably simple premise for a story that caused so many problems -- most, I would argue, not actually the original story's fault. So obviously, this was an unpopular move -- Peter and Mary Jane had for a long time been a fan favorite Marvel couple, and in a fictional universe where most relationships are doomed as soon as they begin, the enduring Spider-Marriage was sacred ground. And then, with a snap of its fingers, it was gone: Peter wakes up in Aunt May's house, no longer married, with Mary Jane out of the picture. (She would not return to the book on any sort of consistent basis for over 50 issues.) In the wake of One More Day began Brand New Day, which is basically what it sounds like: a promised "brand new day" of "exciting" Spider-Man content and a publishing schedule where Amazing Spider-Man came out three times a month. (Which sounds good on paper but I think in practice caused more problems than it created good storylines.) Peter, newly single again, had new love interests! And also Harry Osborn was alive again for some reason! I generally like Harry's post-BND stories so that part's fine with me.

But overall? Brand New Day is a mess. It knows it wants to tread new and exciting ground with Peter -- tell new stories! ensnare new readers! make them fork out for a book three times a month. -- but it doesn't know what those stories should be. Readers who were invested in Peter and Mary Jane's relationship -- a major facet of Spider-Man comics for decades at that point -- felt rightfully betrayed that the marriage could be so easily traded in and that Mary Jane herself, perhaps the second most important figure in Spider-Man comics after Peter, could be tossed aside. From a personal point of view, I think Brand New Day fails in large part because it abandons what has always made Spider-Man such a compelling series, and that's the mix of Peter's personal life with his vigilante life. BND sees Peter with new friends, new jobs, new love interests, etc -- it is very much a brand new day! But it isn't a better day compared to the stories that came before it. I do like some post-BND stories, especially American Son (ASM #595-599) and Grim Hunt (ASM #634-637), but compared to pre-BND where I think the majority of canon is good, it's a very lacking body of work that is hurt by the way it divorced itself from the PeterMJ marriage as Spider-Man's central relationship.

"But Traincat, I thought you said you liked One More Day?" Yeaaaaah. I do. This is why I keep saying I like One More Day on its own merits, and not on the merits of the stories it opened the doors for. I like a good romantic tragedy in fiction, and the way Peter and Mary Jane's final scene in One More Day plays out is beautiful. I like the idea of Peter caught in this impossible situation, being asked to choose between two women he loves more than his own life. A really common criticism I see leveled against One More Day is that Peter should have chosen his relationship with Mary Jane over May's life, which is -- okay, I think it's weird that people keep insisting on this, not in the least because by asking Peter to sacrifice his aunt's life they're essentially demanding he commit a callous, out of character act in order to further his own interests. It's also weird because the thing is, Peter already chose Mary Jane over May -- that's what gets them into this situation. It's literally in the scene where May is shot:

(ASM #538) When the gun goes off, Peter's spider-sense kicks in, and he covers Mary Jane, leaving May in the path of the bullet. He does choose Mary Jane over May, regardless of whether he realized what he was doing. And that's why he can't make that choice a second time. His actions in One More Day do make sense for him as a character, whether or not any individual reader likes them, and Mary Jane's actions make sense, too -- after all, she's the one who ultimately tells Mephisto that they agree to the deal when Peter can't bring himself to voice it.

A lot of people also like to nitpick One More Day by going, well, why could (x) or (y) with life saving powers save Aunt May which is like -- yeah, I guess, but if we're going to ask that about this specific comic book near death setup, you kind of have to do it with every single one, and I'm not going to stake every single moment of comic book drama on whether or not that gold kid from the X-Men was busy at the time. Comics are soap operas in flimsy paper form: serialized longform storytelling that relies heavily on melodrama. Sometimes you have to go with things. Sometimes you sell your marriage to the devil. Stuff happens. That in and of itself doesn't make One More Day a bad story -- and while some people blame the Spider-Marriage's dissolution entirely on One More Day, I think that's a little shortsighted when you look at the history of Spider-Man since the turn of the century. It's clear -- and Marvel themselves have been perhaps a little too open about this -- that Marvel in the past few decades has had trouble with the direction they want to take Spider-Man. They WANTED Spider-Man to appeal to a distinctly youthful audience that they didn't think they were actually reaching -- understandable, considering that Marvel nearly went bankrupt around 2000 and was saved by Ultimate Spider-Man, an out of main continuity series which retold Spider-Man from the beginning and focused heavily on Peter as a teen -- but the problem was Spider-Man in the main continuity was at that point in canon a happily married man who was pushing the dreaded 30 whether or not they wanted to admit that. This is also why Marvel has continually pivoted away from Spider-Man having kids, because they feared that making him a dad would age him too much and make him unrelatable to their coveted audience of Teens. (This is also why almost every new Spider-Man property, especially the live action movies, perpetually stick him back into high school, despite that occupying a very small slice of 616 canon.) So around the year 2000, they started trying things in relation to the Spider-Marriage, which was viewed as a major problem -- after all, what's more adult than being married and liking your wife. First, they had Mary Jane presumed dead. Then, they had Mary Jane and Peter separate. Then, when Mary Jane and Peter had only recently gotten back together, One More Day struck. If One More Day specifically hadn't gone the way it had, it's pretty clear that the Spider-Marriage was going to go one way or another -- it's a little bit of a shame it happened when it did, because OMD is the end of J Michael Straczynski's run, and JMS wrote a really beautiful Peter and MJ relationship. But Marvel as a company and especially editor in chief at the time Joe Quesada viewed Peter and Mary Jane's relationship as a major problem in how they wanted to portray Spider-Man and thought that striking the relationship from the books would allow them more freedom in their portrayal of him as younger and more relatable to their Desired Audience of people who I guess really wanted to see Peter sleep with characters who weren't Mary Jane.

(ASM #546. Younger! Fresher! Less attached! Kissing random women in the club!)

The problem with One More Day has always been in the follow through -- from the content of Brand New Day to the pacing of events to the fact that Marvel withheld key information for such a long time that it allowed misinformation to thrive. After all, what does it MEAN to trade Peter and Mary Jane's marriage to the devil? It altered the events of canon in Peter and the majority of other characters' memories so that the marriage didn't exist, but it left people wondering -- did the relationship as they remembered it existed? How much of Spider-Man canon was altered? And the answers didn't come for over 100 issues of Amazing Spider-Man. One Moment In Time or OMIT (Amazing Spider-Man #638-641), which revealed that while Peter and Mary Jane never got married in the altered canon they did continue their long committed relationship up until just after Civil War, was published in 2010, so essentially readers were hung out to dry without answers for three years. That's a long time to string people along, but not as long as it took Marvel to confirm that the popular fan theory that Mary Jane retained her memories of the original timeline as part of her own deal with Mephisto was also true, which happened this year. I would say, at least from my perspective, a lot of the frustration doesn't come from the individual One More Day storyline so much as how Marvel has continually dragged out the aftermath, using the promise of a Spider-Marriage return to keep fans on the hook. Which is why One More Day continually comes up in discussion of current Spider-Man, because Spencer's run has relied very heavily on imagery from that period with a serious question of whether or not there actually was going to be payoff, something which is still up in the air.

This has been Spider-Man History With Traincat, brought to you by anonymice like you.

#traincat talks comics #long post #*replies

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sopxhiea · 4 years ago

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Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie shows the wild girl around and he’s surprised to find out just how quickly she picks up on things but before he can do anything about it, she pulls at the ropes she’s set him up on.

Part 1 | Part 2

“This is an excellent time for me to go missing.”

“Are you going to get me into bed or what?”

Keep them on their toes.

That’s what the lady had said, that a woman needed to keep a man on his toes if she wanted him to stick around. It made it more thrilling according to the old lady, it made it far more exciting than if she were to just give the man what he wanted, the sweet kiss of release.

The kiss could be obtained in many ways, a woman’s body was a world of wonders and it could entice any man if she were to use it correctly, to her advantage.

And maybe that’s when it all started.

The windows on the lines of the street were mostly closed due to the chilly morning weather, the thin layer of snow made no difference to those who chose to reach their destination by feet but it added a whole lot more to the spirit that was coming around with the new year. There were no more kids playing around the streets anymore, just the sound of laughter from the inside of the stone cold houses.

Alfie’s broad form walked in front, with a curly haired and fidgety man following behind. They seemed to fit well together in a sense when you compared their auras, Alfie was composed and the curly haired man was certainly not. Your footsteps trailed behind them, they were much taller than you in comparison so it took you a while to catch up to their speed.

There was no cane in his hand today, no sign of physical weakness as his eyes looked around for the cheery sound of kids playing around but there was none, just the dead silence birthed by the cold of winter, or something that felt too cold to bear.

He heard your lighter footsteps trailing behind, no feeling of uneasiness as he led you to his infamous bakery. You had offered to come and he had no opposition to that, although Ollie had many but he’d chosen to not listen to the lad, which mostly proved to be a mistake but he was hoping it would pay off this time.

Ollie had taken one look at you, and even though he hadn’t seen you before, he knew who you were. Word traveled fast around Camden, especially if it was about a young woman who just wouldn’t behave. The gossip’s description of you checked most of the boxes, the lad thought. Your eyes were as bright as they’d said and he was sure there was no one else around Camden with your delicate features.

He was sure it was you, the infamous wild lady.

You were much younger, though. You didn’t behave in a way that he’d seen girls your age do, you carried yourself with more maturity but he’d almost overlooked all that when you’d flashed him a smile.

He’d felt his throat dry up and he almost forgot how old you were. Poor lad, Alfie thought when he saw the state Ollie was in when you’d started speaking to the man with a wicked smile. Alfie was glad the lad hadn’t seen you dance or he wouldn’t be able to control him from god knew what. Any man would have nothing but trouble keeping their hands to themselves when it came to you.

“We’re going to the distillery?” you spoke once your feet were in line with Alfie’s as he walked down the street to where the ‘bakery’ was.

You weren’t stupid. Alfie knew that but his eyes still widened when you said it.

Only people who worked in the same line of business knew what Alfie did, most of them at least. He’d killed people for less and he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard you refer to his bakery as a distillery, Ollie’s eyes widened too but the lad was too busy trying to figure if Alfie was going to pound your head onto the cement or just warn you off and he decided on the last option, Alfie didn’t hit women.

“What the fuck did ya’ just say, lass?” he spoke, leaning down to face you which made you smile faintly. The man was at least twice your size.

You upped your volume and made motions with your hands in the air like you were talking to a grandpa and not a thirty year old man, Ollie almost snickered while Alfie watched you with bewildered eyes. “I said, Are we goin-”

He cut you off quick enough, your hands stopping mid-air when he started speaking in a lower tone than usual which only made you wanna bite your lip.

“Where the fuck did ya’ hear that?” he asked, genuinely curious for a second before you bit your lip and all his energy went south. He gulped and you chuckled, he was just a man after all.

“Word travels fast, Mr. Solomons.” you said, emphasising on the last word and you watched his eyes go deeper than usual, some animalistic urge taking over him before he realised that he was standing right in front of the factory.

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it. he said under his breath before putting his large hand on the small of your back and pushed you towards the wooden doors of the entrance.

And you were in.

The inside was bigger than what it seemed on the exterior, the two factories were connected from the inside, most of the inside space absent from any doors. There was a wooden stair that led up to somewhere but you couldn’t see it from where you were standing. You saw barrels, dozens of them as men carried them around.

“Nice place.” you whispered but Alfie heard it, it only brought a smirk to his lips. You weren’t so stupid to think to believe that a man like Alfie could only make profit off of protection or ‘bread’, there had to be more and this was it.

Alfie walked in front as he led you through the corridors of the distillery and it was obvious that having women around was not so common, especially none like you. No one said anything and you soon came to realise that it was because you had come in with the boss and not on your own. Some did give you strange looks, seeing as you were half Alfie’s age and almost half his size and yet Alfie seemed to not mind it at all.

Everyone had different moral codes, so did a gangster.

His office was the space the unknown stair led to, all smelling of musk and power like he did. You were sure he had a vanilla scent somewhere in there but it was hard to tell, he didn’t give you openings to lower your guard, not really.

The inside of the office had no decorations, just piles and piles of papers and a shelf just for drinks but you noticed that none of them were rum, just whiskey and other strong drinks. You were sure there was at least a couple guns hidden somewhere but you had pushed him far enough already for the day even though Alfie didn’t seem to mind all that much.

You sat on one of the chairs in front of his table, all wooden but worn out unlike the ones in his home. The space had the same atmosphere as his living room which made you think that he spent entirely too much time around his office, Ollie would vouch for that. Taking your gloves off with your teeth, you didn’t realise he had been staring with a smirk on his lips.

You truly were something else, he thought.

He had seen your classmates, girls around your age who spoke in a posh accent and curtsied each time they greeted someone. They didn’t speak unless they weren’t asked something and they sat in a proper way like Annabelle had taught all of you to do. But you didn’t do any of the things they did, quite the opposite.

It only enticed him further.

“You know..” you spoke, a charming smile on your lips as Alfie watched your lips move. “This is an excellent time for me to go missing.”

Alfie’s roaring laugh was the only thin that could be heard in the air after that.

He was a lethal man, you knew that and so did everyone who lived around London. You’d hard of the things they did, although it wasn’t quite clear which ones were true but you were sure he had killed many before and that didn’t bother you all that much but it would if that were you.

And it could very well be you in that given moment.

With no one to come with you, no one to follow or keep you company, you were in his office with his assistant. It was his place, not a place of comfort like his home but a place he’d killed before and you knew that for a fact as you eyed the blood stains on the wooden furniture, it was faint and small but you knew what blood looked like on wood.

You were in the lion’s den and he was staring right at you.

But you weren’t a sheep, and he seemed to forget that for a second.

“I ain’t gonna do anythin’, luv, believe me, yeah.” he spoke with a low smile as he searched through some papers, seated on his big chair with you in front of him.

“I don’t have a reason to...” you spoke with raised eyebrows as he watched you, hand on his beard and you kept on speaking. “..but why wouldn’t I believe in a gangster.” you spoke, eyes landing on him at last and you saw a hint of a smirk on his plump lips.

Alfie understood the weight of your words but he knew you didn’t mean them. You wouldn’t be in his office, sitting the way you were if you had. And he had heard of the lads you hung out with, some of them known criminals just for the thrill of it, he knew you weren’t afraid of him in the slightest bit so he just raised his eyebrows.

“Ya’ ain’t fuckin’ afraid of me, I know that, yeah, I do.” he spoke in a monotone voice, as emotionless as he could muster up and you just clicked your tongue once he was done and looked around while speaking. He wanted to kiss you, he concluded.

“I refuse to be afraid of you.” your voice was soft, like how he’d heard woman talk to babies as if you were cooing him. He didn’t like to be treated that way but he’d let it go, it was you after all.

And it was the full truth, he was sure of that.

Alfie knew you had lied to him a couple of times already but your sweet words covered the rest and he saw no reason to poke at it, you did it exceptionally well. But you were telling the truth now, the full and bare truth for him to know and he knew it for a fact because you’d stopped smiling and just stared at him with stern eyes.

“Alright.” he spoke, feeling his throat dry at the way you looked at him but a man like Alfie was hard to fluster, although you’d done it couple of times already. “Fuckin’ brave of you, that ‘s.” he spoke under his breath but you’d heard it, it was loud and clear.

You didn’t look for praise or approval anywhere, your record would speak for that. If anything, you looked for discontent in people’s faces, it made you think that you were doing something worth the risk but seeing Alfie approve of your recklessness awakened something in you, something you weren’t ready to name yet.

“How much of your income comes from this place?” you asked, genuinely curious as you tried to put two and two together. He had a big house, multiple maids and a distillery, he also had people pay for him for protection and so you figured, he was loaded.

He didn’t answer, just stared at you with hard eyes. Alfie had killed for less and he was not planning on shooting your pretty brains out but you were pushing it, you both knew it. You crossed your legs and uncrossed them again, pulling his attention elsewhere but he was quick to compose himself, it was quite impressive of him.

“I just figured, since you have other....side businesses, this is just a small part that provides your entire income. Is it not?” you spoke in a sweeter voice than before. You knew he would pull a gun on you soon if you kept going this way which gave you all the reason to.

The sparkles in his eyes were something else.

You shot him a smile as he remained silent. You had hit the nail on the head but he wouldn’t tell you that. He tried to figure out just how you got to where you were but soon realised he had taken you home the first night which would give you sufficient information about his wealth but you seemed far too quick to pick up on the distillery side of the business.

He chose to pay no attention to it for the time being.

He pulled a glass bottle from one of the shelves, the one that was hidden behind all the whiskey and foreign drinks. You eyed the crystal glass he filled with the brown liquid. You didn’t really drink rum but a gangster was offering you the glass so you’d take it.

You took the glass from his hand, your fingers feeling the cold material of his gold rings for a split second before you chugged it down, instead of taking a sip like most people did. Alfie then could tell that you really did drink, just maybe not rum. You grimaced afterwards, the liquid tasted different than what you were used to.

“It’s too sweet.” you spoke while licking lips and he watched at first. A scoff followed afterwards.

Alfie sold these out like crazy and there you were, a thing half his size telling him that the drink wasn’t good enough for your taste. He then thought that maybe you were as posh as the rest of the girls in your school but the way you swallowed the drink in one go told him afterwards. His eyes dropped to your cheeks, now a bit more flushed compared to usual and he made a mental note of always offering you a drink so that you’d look as pretty as you did after you’d chugged the drink.

He then remembered how old you were, despite the way you looked at him, and scratched the idea.

“Ya’ don’t fuckin’ like it then, hm?” he asked, leaning on the desk by his elbows and you watched the way his rings caught the light in his office before you met his eyes.

“I don’t usually go for rum..” you spoke, eyebrows scrunched and a look of distaste on your pretty face as you looked at the glass in your hand before putting it on his table. “But yours is okay.” you spoke, seeing no reason to lie.

You didn’t like rum, whiskey was better and did the job a bit faster but Alfie’s was alright. You could even grow to like it, you thought, if he kept you around long enough.

He smiled then, a sweet grin on his face as you looked at him through your eyelashes. He was a hard one to crack, you gathered, but that wouldn’t stop you. You’d make him wait anyway but not before confusing the man. Men liked to be told what to do, you knew that. Especially if it was by a little young thing like you.

Well, at least most men.

“Mr. Solomons..” you spoke, a little pout on your painted lips and he swore you would kill him, you would run a man like him in a heartbeat and he was more than willing to give you the opportunity. “Are you going to get me into bed or what?”

Alfie considered.

He wanted to, oh god he so badly wanted to. But you were young, old enough to know what you wanted but still young, he knew of the danger you possessed. You’d ruin a man of Alfie’s wrath and you didn’t even need to fuck him for that, all you’d do is to kiss him once and he’d do anything, he thought.

He knew that you’d had your fair share of lads around London, he’d heard. He wasn’t sure how much experience you had in bed but he was sure you could take it, whatever he had in stock for you. He was sure that you weren’t all talk and no play, that you could very well paint a picture from his fantasied only if he were to ask nicely.

“That why you’re ‘ere, pet?” he spoke, hand tugging at his beard as he looked at you through lustful eyes. That wasn’t the reason and you wouldn’t fuck him right at that given moment but you wanted to, and that was rare.

You’d toy with him and push all the buttons he had but there was no denying that you were attracted to the man. Maybe that was why you’d make him wait longer, torture every nick of his soul before he surrendered. It sounded fun but you also had your limits and seeing him riled up like this didn’t help.

You smiled at the nickname first and then at his face, he was a sight to see.

“Depends.” you spoke, loud and clear as his hands brushed through his beard. You were never too tired to play the games and as dangerous as Alfie was, he was still a man.

“On what?” he spoke in a heartbeat. He was thankful Ollie wasn’t here to hear the conversation, Alfie didn’t have the upper hand for once and he had no intention of telling anyone that.

“On how long you’ll last.” you said, telling him the full truth. You didn’t usually tell men that but Alfie clearly stood out. You smiled then, liking the way his eyes widened for a second before he nodded thoughtfully.

Alfie knew the game you were playing. Most women, hell, most people were too dumb or scared to play it and he soon came to realise that you already had him on the ropes. He’d been the one to take you to his home, the one place of comfort the very first night and he was the one seeking you out today when he came over to your school. You were just waiting and he’d done everything you’d expected him to do, with a little delay but he was still a man.

And he’d been the one to take you to his office, the one to give you the rum and the one asking when you’d sleep with him.

He cursed at himself for being so blind.

This was how you got man, and all that property and business. He was sure no man had ever lasted longer before and he was right but that didn’t mean that you didn’t have any more cards to play. You were just getting started for all he knew.

“You, yeah, are far too fuckin’ dangerous, pet.” he spoke, eyes glossing over yours and you delivered him your sweetest smile with a small wink.

Checkmate.

He lost.

Only this round, he told himself. He’d only lose this one time.

“So?” you spoke in a breathy voice and he found it hard to stop looking at your lips.

God, he was fucked.

But it didn’t matter, he realised. Alfie always had the upper hand, he was the one to end a conversation and not the other way around but he found out that he didn’t mind changing the dynamic if it was for you.

And it didn’t matter from which angle he was looking at this situation, he was the one who lost and you’d won, in all of the realities of the scenario. He sighed once more, hand glossing over his beard but not quite brushing through it like it had been. One look at you, the rum on the table and your pretty hands that were decorated with paint and he had made his decision.

He’d wait on his toes.

You’d make him anyway but he liked it better if it was his choice. He took one good look at you, from head to toe as you sat in front of him with a smirk he had grown accustomed to and came to the conclusion that you were worth the risk of danger that came with it, as a flip side of the coin.

You shot him another smile as you spoke, your delicate features turning into one of satisfaction and content.

“Say, Mr. Solomons, what would you like me to do while I wait. I assume you have loads to do.” your voice was sweet as your hand signalled at the papers before him.

He shook his head, cleared his throat and began speaking. “Nah. This is nothin’, pet. I’d much rather talk about you, yeah.” he said, not using a curse word like he usually did because you were the one controlling the ropes and he didn’t like having his buttons pushed, he was sure you’d do just that if he didn’t give you your way.

“Well, I’m gald we finally agree on something.” you spoke as you giggled and he joined with a snicker of his own.

You’d be the death of him, and he knew.

And so the game of question for question started again, but this time there were no unanswered questions and a lot more risks taken from both sides.

----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @fuseburner @r-rose08 @innerpaperexpertcloud a/n: If I forgot to tag anyone, do let me know please!

I did read all your lovely comments on the last part and forgive me for not replaying to all of them but I wanted to say thank you for leaving the sweet comments and I’m so so glad you guys like this one! I will keep them coming <3

And happy Holiday season! <3

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onrainynights · 4 years ago

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why you can't compare buddie to destiel (from someone who ships both)

this is kind of addressing the recent negativity in the buddie tag, but it's also a collection of my thoughts and reasoning for being buddie-positive despite my experiences with destiel and spn in general. the text of 911 is not really discussed at all, and this is relatively spoiler-free, so if you're thinking of watching 911 I encourage you to read it. if you haven't seen both shows it probably won't make perfect sense, but I wrote this with spn fans who haven't seen 911 in mind, since that's most of my followers (and also seems to be where much of the negativity was coming from) pretty long post under the cut to save your dash

I just want to prepare y'all for the fact that buddie could be the slow burn will they/won't they mlm romance we've been waiting for practically forever.

at this point it's not fair to call it queerbait because where their relationship is now fits the characters and their development. this is not like destiel, where there were many moments over the years that could've ended with them getting together and it would've made sense with the story. buddie right now is in this sweet, wholesome pre-relationship kind of place, which on its own is a compelling dynamic and so fun and good to see. a resolution of it right now would feel out of character—they both still have some development to do before that would feel natural. and so, I don't think we can really call it queerbaiting unless the characters get to that point and there is still no resolution.

also I'd like to point out the overall positivity from the cast when it comes to buddie. both Eddie's and Buck's actors have said (I'm paraphrasing cast statements in this post unless they are in quotations) positive things about the pairing, and Buck's actor has said that he likes the interpretation of Buck as queer, and he would be happy if the writers took his character in that direction. also Eddie's actor with "that's what they all say" when buddie was referred to as a "bromance". Jennifer Love Hewitt, who plays Buck's sister (another main character), is very supportive of buddie, saying she's "rooting for it", that it would be "amazing", she doesn't "see how it couldn't happen one day". this was in response to hearing that a fan insists Buck and Eddie will be a couple. She flat-out said "I think so, too." She jokes about buddie with Buck's and Eddie's actors all the time. Also, my favorite bit from the video of her saying all this, "Let's manifest it together!"

It's safe to say this is a VERY different environment to spn. I don't think I've ever seen a cast this positive about a show's main non-canon queer ship before. NEVER. I think it's safe to say that if/when buddie is canonized, the cast will be just as excited as the fans—at least JLH will be! Add into the fact that the show's PR seems to be leaning into bi buck and buddie right now, it's a VERY different vibe than spn had, definitely. There's no gaslighting of the fans here, at least not that I've seen. also, although 911 has a large casual viewership, I think it's safe to say the GA would not be upset by buddie—there are only 3 serious, long-term romantic relationships involving main characters in this show, and one of them is a lesbian marriage with two children. And yes, the characters are shown being lesbians, it's not just a stated fact; the audience is privy to their relationship (and their interactions with their adorable kids). I think it's safe to say that buddie would go over well with the fans, even the casual viewers (of which there are many). buddie doesn't seem to be a huge divider in fandom like destiel is, either. reactions generally seem to be either "I ship it" or "I don't care either way."

Also I'd like to point out that while yes, it's possible that buddie is only bait (which would be disappointing), there's a reason queerbaiting works. people WANT to be queerbaited, because it's nearly indistinguishable from a slow burn will they/won't they queer romance. queerbaiting allows fans to make theories, create fan content (including fic), and keeps them engaged with the dynamic and the show. fans who are vulnerable to queerbaiting want a slow burn will they/won't they queer romance, which is currently an almost completely untapped market. spn could've tapped it, but despite the huge fandom they did not. there are SO MANY people outside of spn fandom who want a slow burn mlm romance, one that keeps the audience guessing, one that's will they/won't they, one that is not guaranteed, and that is why queerbaiting works so well. the audience doesn't just want the payoff, they also want the build-up. the longer the build-up, the higher the payoff, and the suspense of the build-up is gone if you know from the start that the payoff is definitely coming. that's part of why malec from shadowhunters didn't fully tap this market—there was no question of if, only the question of when (which wasn't really a question either, given there was an episode in season 1 literally titled "malec" when they got together.) the characters were always queer, the show being an adaptation of a book series where they were in a relationship and eventually had children together.

this was why November 5th was such a big deal—fans were so far past the will they/won't they aspect of destiel, firmly believing that destiel would always end as a "won't they" and not a "will they" that when cas confessed his romantic love for dean, destiel trended on Twitter over the US election. you all know that story, but maybe not everyone reading this knows that after Nov. 5 there was a case of hundreds if not thousands of spn fans experiencing love sickness because of the confession scene. the payoff of making destiel fully canon (and reciprocated, in English) would've been huge. fans would've been throwing their money at the c/w.

which leads me to the possibility (this is not at all me saying that I think this happened or even is likely, just that it's one possibility that /could/ have happened) that buddie started as bait, that the writers never intended for them to be a couple, but saw fan reactions to buddie during season 2 and started to lean into it in season 3 (and 4 so far, but it just started so I don't want to make any generalized statements about it) possibly still as bait or maybe not deciding yet if they'll go anywhere with it. and then maybe they saw destiel trending on November 5th, realized just how BIG the market for a slow burn will they/won't they mlm romance is, and said "hey, we already have the foundations for one of those. why not go for it and draw in all those viewers who clearly want one so badly?"

if buddie goes canon, because the cast and PR have been so positive about it, unlike spn, and because of the text of the show itself, the show's creatives could VERY EASILY claim that they were never baiting, that it was all an intentional slow burn will they/won't they romance from the beginning, and most people would believe them; there isn't really any evidence to the contrary, although I am sure there would be at least a few fans convinced it started as queerbaiting, and there might not be any evidence to refute that, either.

the point is that 911 is currently sitting on a gold mine. if they play their cards right, and execute buddie well, they will monopolize this market that old straight white men serving as network executives have failed so far to really tap into. they queerbait without the payoff, which gives the show a reputation among those in the market who haven't seen it, guaranteeing they will never watch it. shows in this vein: sherlock (huge reputation for queerbaiting and a finale fans didn't like) and spn (huge reputation for queerbaiting and a finale fans didn't like). spn got so, so close with cas's confession but then continued to gaslight its fans, and PR did not lean into destiel AT ALL. if 911 did buddie? the PR team would be all over it. it would be a moneymaker, big time, and Fox knows it. if buddie, or even just bi buck, went canon, tumblr would be all over it. viewership for the show, which is already impressive, would skyrocket. 911 would monopolize this market, because fans wary of queerbaiting would watch it with the knowledge that the payoff is there, and there really wouldn't be a competitor until other shows saw the success of buddie and followed suit with their own pairings, and given the fact that the market specifically wants /slow burn/ queer romances, that might take a couple years. that puts 911 in a really good position, where suddenly the fandom of the show, not just the GA, is very large and likely very dedicated to the show. the success of canon buddie might just change the landscape of TV in the coming years, showing execs that while queerbaiting does work, actually going through with it is really where the money is. 911 would not just monopolize the market for a while; it would pioneer it.

if buddie never goes canon, I would probably be a bit disappointed at the wasted potential, but unless the characters get to that point where canon buddie seems like the most logical outcome and they /don't/ go for it, I won't be truly upset because I don't think it's fair to claim its queerbaiting until then. I can't tell you how likely it is that buddie will be canon at some point, but it seems FAR more likely than destiel /ever/ did, and we ended up getting cas's confession in the end. I have hope, despite being hurt so badly by spn. 911 is a genuinely great show with some fantastic writing, and they don't leave chekov's gun unfired, unlike spn.

really, it comes down to this: if Jennifer Love Hewitt is allowed to clown for buddie, then so am I, and I'll enjoy this show—which is amazing even without canon buddie—while I apply my clown makeup.

#9-1-1 #spn #buddie #tagging as #destiel #so anyone with that tag blacklisted can avoid this post #unfortunately I have seen w/ncest shippers in the buddie tag so that's just a precaution so I don't get attacked #posts for puck #I might add more to this later who knows but I think this is a pretty good collection of my thoughts #buddie positivity #911natural

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mintvender · 4 years ago

Text

UTOPIA [ 1 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAu!

Warning: Profanity

Word Count: 3.1k

a/n: This is the first official chapter of the series “ Utopia”. It is connected to the series “ When the Stars Meet their Sun” which is the prequel to this one. It explains the major events that happen to the major characters and will get released along with this serie.

Masterlist

Being a ruler for some, would be a blessing. Others would shudder with just the possibility of said position. After all, isn’t the crown the most desperate for blood?

Unlike wild animals, humanity has long hunted for more than they could ever need. It happens so often that people would say that greed was the worst trait for a ruler, but little do people like to admit, greed was something that was inevitable. Everyone has at least some greed inside of them, either burying or flaunting it as their unique trait.

Y/N L/N, the current ruler of Corea was yet to be an exception. Though, they have enough conscience to at least hide it and be a decent ruler.

Using their right palm to steady their head, they continued to look over the countless ministers standing in front of them as the regular audience continued to take place.

“ Your majesty, we need to send troops to the east to defend our borders immediately.”

The eastern border connected Corea to the ancient nation that owns the eastern sea. As a result, those people were extremely arrogant and deemed themselves superior because of the amazing achievements that their ancestors have done years ago.

“ The eastern bastards are causing trouble again?” Y/N asked, annoyed.

The ministers couldn’t help but flinch hearing profanities come out of the monarch’s mouth. Everyone knows that such words could not be said during a formal meeting but who were they to lecture the monarch?

“ Yes, your majesty. Even after our recent victory, they have yet to turn around and surrender to our nation.”

Y/N’s eyes glanced up from their nails to the nervous individual, irises gleaming in interest.

“ Is that so? What have they been doing?”

“ Reporting to your majesty, the Grimores’ guards have been destroying our farmlands and threatened many of our people there. As a result, agriculture has decreased by a large amount. People living there are suffering under Grimore’s violence.”

Perking their left eyebrow at the somewhat expected eyebrow, Such ignorant people, Y/N thought.

The eastern land was one of the best places in Korea for hurting crops and agriculture. The crops there almost took up half the entire stock of supplies that the palace gets every week.

So that’s why the servants were complaining, they thought.

“ Do you have any suggestions, General Kwong?”

General Kwong, a name that would bring fear to people across all lands. He was part of the four leaders that have guarded the borders for years on end and have made many outstanding achievements because of it.

“ I believe that it is best to send troops over to the border and eliminate them all.”

After hearing those words, the monarch’s eyes turned cold.

“ General Kwong, you truly do have some courage,” tilting their head, Y/N continued to taunt the general, “ Are you not afraid that they would retaliate? Even if we were to bring victory home, our relationship with them would be on thin string. Are you willing to take such responsibility when such things occur.”

Cupping his left hand over his right, General Kwong brought them to his forehead before executing a low bow to show his respect.

“ My bloodline would take all the responsibility if the eastern bastards were to declare war with our nation,” he announced.

Letting out a smirk, eyes gleaming with bloodlust, Y/N glanced at the bowed figure.

“ How are you so certain that they will not declare war with us?”

He affirmed, “ Compared to the Grimores, our nation is prospering at an inhumane pace. Even if we are much younger than them, they would still have to show some face and be more pliant. The guards at the borders are just teenagers who know nothing and just want a taste of power, I am sure that the intrusions have yet to even reach the main city.”

Have not yet reached the main city, does he mean that…

“ By that, do you mean that the imperial family have no idea about the attacks. And that it was caused by children?”

General Kwong shivered at their tone, feeling all too warm in a sudden.

“ I’m afraid it is so.”

Y/N glared at him, “ You mean that you were incapable of protecting the border? To what? Measly children who have even yet fallen into reality? How daring of you, General Kwong!”

Practically letting gravity push him towards the ground, he frantically tried to come up with an explanation.

“ My apologies, your majesty! This servant does not know that those bastards were going to threaten the border.”

Y/N did not like shortsighted people to serve under them. People who only focus on what may benefit them would not put out the necessary effort to ensure that they were safe from less ideal possibilities. Hence, why Y/N have to deal with the current mess the east is facing now.

It has only been a few hours after the sun has rises but they could already sense that a headache is brewing.

“ How shortsighted you are, General Kwong,” Y/N seethes out, “ Did those dozens of years out in the battlefield crippled your brain that you were unable to even think of such a possibility?”

“ T-this servant acted rashly. This will not happen next time, your majesty.”

Sighing, Y/N shook their head, “ Make sure to keep this promise, General Kwong.”

General Kwong nodded his head immediately, mouth rambling promises to help support his genuine apology. He only stood back up after Y/N motioned him to.

“ Send 1000 soldiers to the eastern border. General Kim, you will be leading this mission,” the monarch commanded.

General Kim stepped up from his position, and bowed down, accepting their command.

General Kim, one of Y/N’s most trusted officers. He was once their companion who has travelled together long before Y/N have to ascend the throne. General Kim was already notorious for his sharp knowledge on various weapons along with a keen mind. As a result, he was one of the first people to be granted a position after the new dynasty was formed.

Knowing that he will definitely complete it, Y/N let out a satisfied nod.

“ Make sure that those kids will never escape from their job again. You can do anything to educate them. Children like them need a strict instructor in order to blossom,” the monarch said, satisfied.

And with that, the topic came to an end.

Seeing the previous topic have finally come to an end, another soon appeared.

“ Your majesty, regarding your harem, this s—“

“ Minister Jung, why are you so persistent in expanding my harem? Isn’t three already enough?” Y/N interrupted.

Minister Jung, another old officer from the previous dynasty who has switched sides in order to survive. He was also a man known for his greed yet a thoughtful insight who would choose the absolute best option, even if it meant being a two-faced bastard. Even though his personality wasn’t the best, he has helped Y/N multiple times in the past thus granting him the position of higher rank.

Minister Jung, was also infamous for his suggestion on constantly wanting to admit new concubines every couple of weeks. Regardless of how powerful he seems, however, he does not get to have the final say. Never in his life would he get the chance to do so.

“ Your majesty, just by having three consorts doesn’t give the imperial a natural balance. Your majesty’s harem has been the most limited in the entirety of Corea’s history!”

All the officers nodded in agreement. They all knew that if their son were to enter the harem, and even gain a piece of the majesty’s favour, then their house’s name will become known for as long as the monarch was on the throne and hopefully even after that.

“ And where are you going with this, Minister Jung?”

“ Your majesty, I suggest a competition to help select a few more concubines.”

Ah… the same old idea, how utterly boring.

“ Continue.”

“ A concubine selection would occur at a good time where the imperial family will be recruiting whoever you see fit.”

Looking contemplated, Y/N then looked over to their bodyguard to see his uncomfortable face. Obviously wanting to tease him, they decided to follow whatever plan the minister was setting out.

“ The selection will definately be happening,” Minister Jung lightened up at their words, but that quickly changed when he heard what came after.

“ But when it's happening will be undetermined.”

“ Y-y-your m-majesty, please reconsider. Your age is not that small anymore, if we were to pass your young adult years, it will be much harder to recruit concubines later on,” Minister Jung then motioned to the rest of his section to follow his lead.

Soon after, over one third of the ministers all yelled out while bowing down to the monarch, “ Your majesty, please reconsider! Your majesty, please reconsider! Your majesty, please consider.”

Seeing how much of a fraction Minister Jung managed to gather for himself, Y/N began to think that all the effort they had put in was all in vain. After all, they didn’t need disloyal bastards? Who knows what they could be planning behind their back?

“ Tch, who do you think you all are?”

Everyone in the room shivered at the monarch’s tone, knowing that if they did not upset them with bringing up this topic, they clearly have now.

“ You think that you could control me with your little words? How daring of you!”

“ Y-your majesty, we don’t mean it that way. W-we all j-just want the b-best for you,” Minister Jung stuttered out.

“ The best for me? You think that you’re in the spot to do so?”

“ Y-your majesty, p-p-please dwell your anger, it will affect your h-health.”

“ My health? Are you taking me as a joke? Thinking that you can control me because I have yet to fully mature?” Y/N seethed out.

Though, the current monarch was yet to be the youngest but they have still not reach a mature age to properly decipher from right or wrong.

Well, at least that was what they all thought.

Standing up from their throne, they made their ways down the stairs while looking into every single pair of eyes that were previously begging them to reconsider.

“ I believe that you have forgotten that I single-handedly killed the previous king hence ending the Min dynasty. I was also kind enough to save your disloyal asses to enter my court and serve me, knowing the possibility that you all will change sides when another one appears.”

With their words, all the ministers bowed down in shame, knowing that it was true.

“ I was also the one to help you build your fame. You all were lower rank nobles and didn’t have that much influence. I was the one who guided and helped you to become what you are now! And what did you do to repay my kindness? By forcefully controlling me for your own gains?”

Y/N walked to where Minister Jung was, “ It looks to me that I didn’t train you all enough… No, if you even dare to even repeat this same mistake, don’t even think of entering this room ever again!” Y/N announced, “ We’re done for today. Jungkook, let’s go.”

Jungkook then snapped back to reality from Y/N’s mentioning his name. Immediately after, he quickly rushed towards their walking figure and both left the room.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Not being able to conceal his curious gaze, Jungkook kept glancing at the powerful figure in front of him.

Obviously sensing his curiosity, you could help but rub the area between your eyebrows to help soothe your headache.

Sighing, you told him, “ Asked whatever you want, Jungkook.”

Flushing at how obvious he seemed, Jungkook shyly fidget the violet tassel of his sword, not knowing how to start the conversation.

“ If you don’t mind me asking, how were you able to… to do that?”

“ Do what, Jungkook?”

Jungkook pouted, knowing that you obviously knew what he meant.

“ How you managed to win.”

“Win? I didn’t think it was that much of a victory…In your perspective, how did I do it?” You questioned back.

As he continued to walk behind you, Jungkook tried to recall what he earned in the previous lessons he did with you. Unfortunately, all he got was a few unnecessary words and a black mind.

As a result, he could only go for the most obvious option.

“ Hmm… you managed to control the situation by poking at their weakness?”

“ That... is part of it but it occupies quite a small part in how I managed to do it.”

Jungkook nodded, obviously intrigued at your previous actions.

“ At the beginning, I acted quite intrigued at the suggestion to lead him to where he could possibly make a mistake. You must know, Jungkook, that anyone will make a mistake when their adrenaline reaches a certain point. You must take hold of such opportunities and use it to your advantage,” you explained.

“ What did you do next?”

“ You must observe the situation and predict what will happen.”

Not understanding your words, the boy stopped in his tracks, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“ How does that work?”

You stopped in your tracks and turned around, staring into his doe eyes, you let out a smile.

“ That is a lesson for another time but for now, you need to do something for me.”

Letting out a small pout, Jungkook looked at you curiously, “ What do I need to work on.”

“ Your emotions.”

“ My emotions?”

“ Yes, you wear your emotions on your sleeves, practically letting everyone the chance to manipulate you.”

“ Please elaborate.”

“ Alright, hmm… you know how predators always sneak up on their prey and wait for the right moment to finish them?”

Jungkook nodded, “ Unlike you, these predators are always calm and act strategically, making sure that they leave no tracks behind while approaching the prey. They hide into the background and stay silent until the perfect time where they launch towards the prey and end them.”

With this explanation, Jungkook becomes more confused.

“ So I need to be the predator?”

You nodded, somewhat happy that he understood the overall concept.

“ Yes, you need to be aware of what you are letting others know about you. You have to be able to use what you have to your advantage,” you said, “ Do you understand?”

“...”

Not hearing his response, you chuckled, “ You don’t need to understand it now. We will continue to work on it. If you want, go to Taehyung whenever you are free and ask for his assistance.”

You then lift your right hand from their position from your side before setting them on top of his head. Ruffling his ivory black hair before turning away.

Jungkook, on the other hand froze at the feeling of your hand on top of his head.

“... Y-yes, your majesty.”

“ Good, let’s go.”

And with that, you continued your way to your office, content with the current outcome.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Walking into your office, you couldn’t help but let out a tired sigh. Today was truly one of those days that exhausted most of your energy. Unfortunately, being the person who makes the final say in all the decisions of the nation does not leave you that much time to relax and have your way.

Taking off the outer jacket of your hanbok, you stretched out your back before making your way to the expansive desk in the corner of the spacious room.

Contrary to popular belief, your office was rather simple. With just your desk and a little table for guests as the centrepieces. There were multiple shelves displayed on the other walls. You liked to keep the space simple as the place mostly gets covered in the amount of work you finished over the spans of days.

You made yourself as comfortable as you can in the seat, and began with the papers that were underneath the paperweight. Picking up the brush nearby, dipping it into the already grinded ink, you then began to work on the necessary papers that were starting to pile up.

To say the least, your office was a busy destination. There were constantly people entering your office day and night but you made sure that those people were yours; to ensure that no unneeded individual could get any information that was likely going to threaten your position.

Minutes then morphed into hours leading you into the familiar embrace of the night.

Deciding that it was time to take a break, you stood up from your seat and began to organize the paper into piles that were going to be returned to the different departments the day after.

After that, you began to stretch out your sore limbs to try and relax your tense muscles. Groaning at how your muscles seem to refuse to move, you tried to warm it up by doing a few exercises.

As you were warming up, you noticed that the lavender oil that you have used earlier was still permitting a comforting fragrance within your study. Impressed by the quality, you found yourself spending some time inhaling the scent while stretching out your muscles.

When you were finally able to move properly, you walked towards the desk and pour yourself a cup of tea.

As you continued to work, Jungkook constantly entered the room to refill the pot of tea despite you insisting that you don’t need it. Though, you were thankful for his thoughtfulness as you got to enjoy a cup of hot tea that was tingling your numb senses.

Blinking a few times to help clear your vision, you looked over to the shadow that was behind your closed doors. Knowing who it is, you began to walk your way towards the door after setting your cup down, feeling the need to go for some fresh air.

However, before you managed to even take five steps, a figure suddenly approached Jungkook.

His shadow was quite tall and was quite similar to Jungkooks. The pair seemed to be arguing about something that you didn’t quite manage to catch on. Confused at whatever they were talking about, you started to contemplate whether or not you should intervene.

That worry soon came to an end when the door was pushed open.

“ Y/N?”

Letting the bitter taste of the tea coat your tongue, waiting for the effect to sooth your tired self and come back to life. Your tired eyes that were previously blurring your vision from how strained it was, slowly loosen up before clearing up.

Oh, how you missed this person.

#bts x reader #bts x y/n #ot7 x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts series #bts namjoon #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts seokjin #bts yoongi #harem au #Utopia #MintVender #bts harem au #poly bts #Dom!reader

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boognish-worshipper · 3 years ago

Text

Moonlight

the second part/continuation of Sunrise, Sunset!

this boutta get interesting……. it gets kinda messy but don’t worry, it isn’t over yet 🙏🙏🙏 also trevor can’t spell over text to save his life

Lamar didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. He just kept thinking the whole situation over, trying his hardest to connect the dots. Make some sense of it, or at least find some logical way to deny the truth. Had it always been Franklin? It’s not like Lamar ever had a long term girlfriend, or even a chick he was hung up on like his… friend. How long had he been completely naïve? He felt stupid for not noticing sooner. He didn’t even have anyone to confide in. He obviously couldn’t confide in Frank right now. Shit. How would he face him? Lamar screwed his eyes shut tight. What the fuck was he gonna do? He tried thinking about who to turn to. Michael was obviously a no-go, what with the dynamic those two had. Then he thought about Trevor. Maybe he’d help. Maybe. It wouldn’t hurt to just ask, right?

hey

crazy guy

wut leroy. u need smthn?

uh, yeah

sort of

wut iz it?

some complicated bs again. nothin new.

cant u go 2 frank 4 whtevr prblm ur having

not exactly

can i meet u somewhere private?

wut 4

u tryna fuk me leroy?

loco. no.

jus. meet me @ vanilla unicorn asap

Lamar sighed heavily, starting to wonder if this was gonna be a bad idea to try and talk to him about this. But Trevor was kinda fruity anyway, so at least he wouldn’t judge. His phone buzzed again.

alrdy hear bro

Lamar raced over to the strip club, going through the back entrance. Trevor was sitting on his desk, already waiting for Lamar’s arrival.

“LD! What brings you to my fine establishment at this time?” He stood up, but remained leaning against the desk behind him.

“Listen man, it’s.. it’s serious.”

Trevor’s faced lifted, looking surprised. Or.. whatever concerned looked like by his terms.

“How serious we talkin’ bro?”

“Ion know, just some stupid shit I’ve been tryna wrap my head around.”

“Uhh, elaborate on that?”

“It’s gotta do with Fr-…eaky shit going on with me.”

Trevor squinted at him, like he was trying to read Lamar’s mind.

“Like..?”

“Something to do with love, I think?”

“Oh. Well. Why’d you come to me for help?”

“Because I..” He said, the words deflating in his mouth.

“I think you’re the only person who could understand where I’m coming from?”

“…I’m not reading ya. Just say it, Lamar. Jeez.”

“I think I’m in love with someone.”

A long pause filled the air with tension.

“That it?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Jesus bro, what is the matter with you right now? You look like you’re gonna faint.”

“It’s, it’s someone we know, alright? There.”

Trevor squinted his eyes again, but not for long. His eyebrows flew to his hairline, and he stood upright from the desk he was perched on.

“Wait a minute…”

Lamar looked down at the ground, embarrassment swirling around in his stomach. He felt like some child that had been yelled at for stealing some candy. He didn’t like it. He was a grown fuckin’ man for crying out loud.

“You don’t mean..”

He stood there, saying nothing and grabbing his arm protectively. The silence was back, lingering for too long.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” Trevor said, almost inaudible.

“Wh.. what?” Lamar spluttered out, looking up.

“I fucking knew it!”

Somehow hearing those words comforted and pissed off Lamar. Obviously Trevor wasn’t planning on judging him for it, but how did he know before him?

“What the fuck you mean you knew?!”

“Oh please, Lamar. You aren’t a very subtle person.”

“I am too!”

“No. You’re not. You’re really not.”

“Tell me. How, how am I not subtle as a motherfucker?”

“Hmm… I can think of a few instances to count, but honestly a perfect example was that conversation we had dropping those cars off for he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

Lamar cocked his head sideways, confused. Trevor shook his head before starting his sentence back up.

“Remember when you ah… inquired about Michael and I? Our past?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“You compared us to some.. I don’t know, divorced couple or something. Figuring it was romantic?” He averted his gaze, turning pink.

“Well, I mean after the whole rundown of our partnership, I asked you about how you and our boy Frankie met.”

“Mhm..”

“And you gave me some weird, uncomfortable story about you having a threesome with him- Which he apparently wasn’t even apart of to begin with. Didn’t know why he even appeared in that memory, but I guess it sort of makes sense now. It was also the fact you.. uh, deciphered my relationship, and tried to compare it to you and Frank. That’s how I started to catch on.”

“Shit.”

“I mean I… I was in the same boat as you, kid. You were right, y’know.”

“I was?”

“Michael and I… were never perfect. But back then I was,” His voice lowered.

“…Am.” He corrected, voice barely above a whisper. Coughing, he continued.

“In love with him. Or something.”

“Shit, for real?”

“For reals homie. I know what you’re going through. Only difference is Mikey uh.. was a little more repressed than I was. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Lamar stood in shock, eventually flopping down on the couch.

“What the fuck am I gon’ do, Trevor?”

“Well, I know I’m friends with him but I’m not exactly as close to him as you or Mike. So I can’t exactly say whether or not he’s like Michael in that regard, you know?”

“Fuck, man…”

“Hey.. I uh, I’m sorry if I wasn’t much help. I never really knew how to deal with those feelings towards Mike. It’s like, even harder to manage when you have a bond like that.”

“No, no. I needed this I think.”

“Go home, Lamar. Try to get some rest or something.”

As he got up, he placed a hand on Trevor’s shoulder.

“Thanks.”

For the first time since they met, Trevor gave him a genuine smile. He patted his hand and scooted him out the door. Driving back, he still felt sort of restless. Even if he did sleep, it wasn’t gonna be enough. When he got back home and in his bed, he pulled out his phone.

So you’re back.

yup

i thought about what you said

Wait - really?

yeah. i’m a fuckin idiot

Doesn’t take a psychic to know that.

hey

that’s uncalled for lady

What is it you need? It’s very late you know - is what I said keeping you up?

bingo bitch

and uh yeah, i need to know what the fuck u said to franklin

what does he know?

All I told him was that I saw you at his house - very frequently I might add.

I might’ve mentioned you were there in his old room all the time, in his bed with someone he knew - an older woman, perhaps? He didn’t take it too well.

wait a minute

his auntie? i mean she bad and all but

i never.. like did anything with her. not like that

He thought differently. The implications might’ve been misread - why would you choose his childhood bed for something like that? Shame on you

and i might’ve picked the wrong fuckin person to speak to

lady, what the fuck? i never fucked his auntie!

i wouldn’t do that to him, even if she got a dumptruck ass

You are a strange man Lamar. All I saw was you two in his bed, very, very often.

I wouldn’t have known you felt anything for him had you not contacted me - and even now you still made a pass at her!

all we did was talk! n there’s nothing wrong wit admiring ass.

Whatever you say - oh wait…

I’m seeing something

goddammit

it better be good

I’m seeing you two again - and you’re right. You’re talking… about Franklin?

why else would we be in his room. if i was gon fuck his auntie we would’ve done it in hers or sumn

or in the livin room maybe.

I’m seeing something else now - he’s taken the place of his aunt. Oh. Wow…

what? what is it?

what do u see?

I… completely misinterpreted Franklin’s reading. It seems like it was supposed to be him in her place.

I’m not sure how he read it exactly - my best guess was that it wasn’t the latter.

And seeing as he no longer lived there, the vision got mixed up some how for both of us. You did have some connection to her though - don’t lie. That was most likely the problem.

i mean yeah. i hit on her a couple times

maybe thought it about it once or twice

More than that.

whatever. still, i ain’t do shit to her, ion stoop that low lady

Then I apologize. But I cannot fix this problem for you - you’re going to have to talk things out

Because right now, he’s assuming you’re acting weird because you actually *did* something with his aunt.

Fuck me man

this sucks

ur evil lady, u know that?

Hey, I’m not the one hanging out with his aunt. Now go to bed. I’ll deal with you another time.

hey wait

come back

SERVICE UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

“God fuckin’ damn it not again!”

He chucked his phone against the wall, and began yelling into his pillow. He wasn’t gonna sleep right at all until he fixed this mess. Fucking psychic lady.

The next morning when Lamar passed by his mirror he audibly gasped. He looked like shit. He looked like he was definitely hiding something. And he knew he couldn’t see Frank today. His phone buzzed and as soon as he glanced down he felt the urge to throw it across the room. Speak of the fuckin’ devil. Franklin was fucking calling him. Taking a deep breath, he hit answer.

“Yo.”

“Hey L. How you feelin’?”

“Better. Thanks.”

“Yeah man. You know what was up wit’ you or…”

“I.. I think it was some sort of stomach bug man. Doin’ alright now tho.”

“Glad to hear.”

“So are you callin’ me for something or-“

“Actually yeah. I wanted to talk to you.”

“N-now?”

“Later. Sunset? That cool wit’ you?”

“Uh yeah, yeah. Heard it’s a full moon.”

“Dope. Been meaning to talk about this for a while anyway, and you always dragging me around to go see the sunrise.”

“Makes sense.” More sense than the shit he was in the middle of.

“See you then?”

“Of course dog.”

Click. Lamar dropped his shoulders, which had grown tense during the duration of the call. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to understand what he was dealing with better. He thought to himself that he couldn’t possibly be gay, because he loved himself some hoes now and then. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel the same around Franklin. Women and men… was that possible? Could you be into men AND women? He looked it up on his phone, and found a definition that fit him. Bisexual? That’s a thing? He thought it was just, gay and straight. That you couldn’t be both. But… at least that was accounted for. Putting his phone away, he moved on to the next part of the puzzle. What was he going to do when night time came? He couldn’t straight up tell Franklin. That would ruin everything. But how would he explain that he didn’t fuck his Aunt? He had to have a reason to back it up. Either way, he was screwed.

Night came too quick. Lamar kept pacing his room, not taking his eyes off his phone that rested on his bed. Any minute Frank would call him. Any fucking minute now. He still didn’t have a plan. What was he going to do? The phone lit up, buzzing loudly. Oh no. He practically dove to answer it, feigning a nonchalant tone. It wasn’t very impressive.

“Heyyy Frank. I was waiting for word from you.”

“Hey. I’m on my way, be ready.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“See you in 5 L.”

Even after Frank hung up, he didn’t lower the phone from his ear. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, ohshit. He was panicking now, phone dropping to the floor. Not noticing how long he was standing there, he heard a car pull up, then honk. Oh, shit. He raced out the door clumsily, trying to shove his phone in his pocket. Opening the car door, he was hit with the now overwhelming scent of Franklin. Something along the lines of weed and the same cologne he’d be buying for years. He remembered how Tanisha had gotten it for him back when they first started dating as a gift. The detail only made him more nauseous.

“Hey LD.”

“Hey.”

“Get in homie, I got a good spot for us, real sick view n shit.”

“Ah.. aight.”

The car ride wasn’t entirely awful for Lamar, listening to Collard Greens play loudly through the speakers. Franklin had taken them to some secluded spot near Vespucci beach, where no one would bother them. As they got out of the car, Lamar got a clear view of the sunset. It was even better than a sunrise. They found a bench to sit on, and Lamar felt like there wasn’t enough space between them. Did it magically fucking shrink as soon as they sat down? Shit. He cleared his throat, trying to seem neutral and not like he was internally freaking the fuck out.

“So uh… what’d you need to talk to me about?”

Franklin sighed, and Lamar’s stomach was in knots.

“It’s.. just somethin’ I been thinkin’ about for a while. I really jus’ didn’t know how to bring it up or whatever. But let’s jus’ enjoy the sunset right now.”

In contrast to how every sunrise went, the sunset contained shades of pinks and purples. There were also mixed shades of green, from the combination of yellow and blue clashing together. It was a miraculous sight. Frank was right, why didn’t they see sunsets more often? He watched the light sink down past the water, replaced by moonlight not much later. The two sat in silence, as stars filled the sky. The view had grown darker, but he could see the moonbeam reflect in the calm waves. He turned to Franklin, who had a serene expression on his face. He was blue in the moonlight, and it made Lamar feel all kinds of things he never felt for anyone before. Franklin side-eyed him, sitting upright. Here goes nothing.

“Lamar… I just. I gotta ask. I uh.. heard from someone,” Fucking psychic lady.

“That you uh.. and my.. Denise. My Aunt. Were uh.. you were at my house or something with her?”

Lamar eyes were wide. Franklin looked anywhere but him, clearly uncomfortable bringing the topic up. He kept tripping over his words, not knowing how to ask.

“Are.. and I won’t be mad if you are, but are you… and my Aunt.. Are y’all foolin’ around?” He scrunched his face up getting the words out. He almost looked hurt, like he was betrayed at the thought of it all.

“What?”

“Are you fuckin’ my Auntie or what man?!” He forced out.

“Franklin. What.”

He knew the psychic lady had said he got the wrong idea, but hearing it out loud from him was just mind boggling.

“Jesus Christ Franklin, no. I’m not! Why would you even think that?!”

Now he felt hurt. Did he really think Lamar would do something like that?

“You say shit about her all the fuckin’ time! I don’t even know why, because she’s fuckin’ nuts man! I have heard a million and one remarks about her from yo bitchass self!”

“Yeah but I would never-“

“And in my fuckin’ bed man?! Are you for real?!”

“I’m not fucking her! I never was!”

“That’s not what I fuckin’ heard dog! And don’t think I haven’t noticed how weird you’ve been actin’, all guilty n shit. I knew you were hidin’ shit from me, I jus’ didn’t think it’d be my absolute worst fuckin’ nightmare!”

“Franklin! For fucks sake bro that’s not why I’ve been actin’ so weird!”

“Then tell me, exactly, what the hell your problem is!”

Lamar’s mouth hung open, looking for what the fuck to say.

“Homie. It’s not like that. I’m seriously, seriously not fucking her. I’m… just-”

“What, Lamar?!”

“I think I’m in love.”

Shock covered Franklin’s face. Complete, utter shock. His face then twisted into a furious expression.

“Are you fuckin’ for real right now? You’re not fuckin’ my Aunt, you’re in love with her?! Fuck you man!”

“Wait, no that’s not what was I was implying-“

Franklin shot up from his seat, throwing his hands up.

“You’ve officially lost yo mind dog. You two enjoy each other. I’m fuckin’ out of here bro.”

“Franklin, wait-“

“No, no. I.. I need to go. I need to clear my mind or whatever the fuck, because I am just… unbelievably pissed right now.”

“But I’m not-“

“Save it, LD. I’ll… catch you later. Or something. Bye.”

Franklin walked back to his car, abandoning Lamar. Some how, this was worse than confessing to him. He felt sick to his stomach. How the hell was he gonna fix this mess? He remained seated, watching the water lap at the shore. He needed to fix this. And he knew, although he wish he didn’t have to, that’d he’d have to come clean. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship, and some how still did by just not blurting it out. Soon. Soon, after Franklin was ready to talk to him again. He prayed to a higher being, hoping desperately it’d all work out.

//end of pt 2!!!!! i’m sorry this is kinda angsty or whatever :( but i am gonna write a happy ending for this!! lamar deserves the world i love his character sm *sobs* (also sorry this part’s longer than the last one LMAO)

#grand theft auto 5 #gta v #lamar davis #franklin clinton #franklin/lamar #angst #one sided pining #but don’t worry #it’s gonna work out #bc franklin’s hiding shit himself 👀#not gonna say anything #framar

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