#so nice to be able to do a scene with her! hope this is satisfactory--without proper build up I didn't want to do anything too thorough

[rarachelchel]

i love this prequel so much that i can't count how many times i re-read this

planned to quote some of my favourite scenes/dialogues, then i found i have copied and pasted the entire writing 🤦🏻‍♀️ , so struggled for a bit and quote some extremely magnificent part that lives in my brain rent free since i first read it.

“S’not fair,” you slur against his chest, giggles bubbling up from deep inside you. “The world is spinning.” Joel looks at you, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “That’s not–” he begins but stops himself, chuckling. “Well, actually, yes, you’re right. The world is spinning, baby.” He presses a soft kiss against your temple. “I got you though.”

“Mmm, you smell nice. How do you always smell so nice?” 

He’s obviously not going to tell you that he’s made sure to only ever use the aftershave you complimented him on the first night you spent together, but he’s secretly delighting in the fact that you still like it.

“You’re into that?” he chuckles, noting the particular fixation your inebriated brain has chosen this time—last time, it was the curve of his nose. You’re adorable.

He snaps out of it, realizing the very real potential for a clumsy misstep, and joins the chase. His steps are more purposeful, not wanting you to trip and hurt yourself, especially not on his watch. A few meters shy of the traffic light, he catches up, arms wrapping around you from behind. You squeal in surprise, a mixture of laughter and exhilaration bubbling up from deep inside you. Joel joins in, his laughter harmonizing with yours, as he triumphantly murmurs, “Got you” in your ear. “Not fair,” you mumble against his lips with a pout. “And I don’t wanna live in a world where you don’t dance for me.” Joel sighs deeply, succumbing to the irresistible charm of your big puppy eyes. “How about this, baby. You’re good and do what I say without talking back, and I’ll dance for you until you’re dizzy. Hm?”

that was their happy days at first, this is the sweetest thing i have ever read. they spinned with each other inside their little bubble against the world. they provided happiness and satisfactory to each other by simply present.

(very curiosity about what happened on that only time reader got too drunk and stayed for the night, i guess that old man won't let himself fell asleep to enjoy every moment by just staring the sleeping reader <- why i make it sounds so creepy)

Joel’s the best thing that has happened to you in a long time, and you don’t want to lose what you have. But you also care for him enough that you’d let him go if your arrangement didn’t make him happy anymore.

You’re not used to a guy being so considerate of your boundaries, and it’s incredibly hard for you to believe that he actually means it and won’t use them against you once he’s tired of you. You know it’ll happen at some point, but you’re okay with that. This isn’t meant to last.

You open your arms, silently inviting him to draw you into a comforting embrace. You’re relieved when his response is immediate and eager. “We’re on the same page, right?” he asks, a genuine smile on his lips as his dark eyes search yours. “We have fun, and I like spending time with you, but I want you to feel comfortable, too. If this,” he gestures between the two of you, “ever becomes more than you’re comfortable with, we talk about it. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, enjoying each other’s company.”

we all know that something haunted there. even we totally resonance to her insecurity, joel was still able to convinced us that he'll not be the one to hurt her, ignited her tiny hope to trust. (then we are all trapped and damned.)

so glad that i have found this story 🌟

we shouldn’t

2.9k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | one-shot

Warnings: 18+, no outbreak AU, alcohol, smut (but nothing too graphic), smooching, reader being a menace, fluff & the tiniest bit of angst Summary: Joel holds your hand after a night out. It makes you feel things you don’t want to feel. A/N: This little one-shot was very emotional for me to write, and I hope it’ll make you feel something, too. Can be read alone or as a prequel to part 1 within the fwb!Joel AU. Enjoy and let me know what you think! I love talking to you about these two! 🖤 series masterlist

“If I don’t catch you before the light, I’ll do that little dance you like so much.”

“Naked?” you ask with wide eyes. 

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, na–”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re running—clumsily, but fueled by an eagerness that outshines the haze of your drunkenness.

“–ked.”

– – –

The neon lights of the city blur into a kaleidoscope as Joel and you stroll down the crowded streets, the remnants of laughter and clinking glasses still echoing in your ears from the bar you just left. It’s a beautiful night—alive with a buzz, a mix of the city’s energy and the warmth that comes from a few too many drinks.

You’re giggling uncontrollably at something Joel said, your hands clasped over your belly as your sides hurt from laughing. You don’t even remember what he said that was so funny, but that doesn’t matter.

You’re having fun—as always when you’re with him.

Joel glances over at you with a lopsided grin, his eyes slightly glazed but still sparkling with mischief.

“You’re such a lightweight, darlin’,” he says, his words laced with genuine amusement. He chuckles as you continue to giggle, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “No more Long Island Iced Teas for you.”

You playfully roll your eyes, trying to catch your breath, and delicately wiping away the happy tears spilling over.

“Oh, come on,” you quip, turning to him with an infectious grin. “Could a lightweight do this?”

Determined to prove him wrong, you theatrically hold out your arms and set one foot gracefully in front of the other, your pretend sobriety test turning into a whimsical dance along an invisible line on the floor.

“See?” you say excitedly—and perhaps a tad too loudly—before your own enthusiasm sends you stumbling over your own feet. Lucky for you, Joel’s reflexes kick in, and he effortlessly catches you before you can faceplant and hurt yourself.

“Easy there, baby,” he teases with a grin, his strong arms steadying you before pulling you into a tight embrace. “You’re just having too much fun tonight, huh?”

“S’not fair,” you slur against his chest, giggles bubbling up from deep inside you. “The world is spinning.”

Joel looks at you, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “That’s not–” he begins but stops himself, chuckling. “Well, actually, yes, you’re right. The world is spinning, baby.” He presses a soft kiss against your temple. “I got you though.”

Giggles subside into a contented sigh as you rest against Joel’s broad chest, the fleeting touch of his fingers brushing against your back.

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking in his warmth and his scent. “Mmm, you smell nice. How do you always smell so nice?” 

Lifting your head, you gaze into his eyes with honest bewilderment and curiosity, your brow furrowed, as if this is the most perplexing mystery that needs unraveling.

“Reminds me of when we met. My clothes smelled like you when I got home that night.”

Joel’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you with a genuine sense of adoration, his heart warmed by the sincerity and carefree spirit that your drunken honesty radiates.

He’s obviously not going to tell you that he’s made sure to only ever use the aftershave you complimented him on the first night you spent together, but he’s secretly delighting in the fact that you still like it.

“Well, aren’t you sweet, darlin’,” he coos, an amused smile gracing his lips. “You were such a brat not even twenty minutes ago and now look at you. Tame as a little kitten.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You bite your lip and put your hands on his chest, your pupils so dilated your eyes are black.

You can still feel his fingers inside you.

Joel runs his hands up and down your back, a sensation that makes your knees weak. He bores his eyes into you and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m talking about you acting like a whore in that bar just so I’d make you come on my fingers.” His hands wander down to your ass, groping you, pulling you closer against his body. “You knew I’d fuck you when we got to your place, but you just couldn’t wait, huh?”

“Hmm, you love it,” you chuckle, pressing a soft kiss on his warm lips. “Don’t act like you’re not a total perv yourself. ‘Cause, you know, you are, and that’s why you just fingered me in a crowded bar. And that’s why you almost came in your pants. And that’s also why we get along so well.”

Joel grins at you, savoring the lingering sensation of your lips on his. “Touché, you little smartass.”

Your eyes drop to his mustache, perched proudly on his top lip. He’s shaved off the rest of his facial hair, and tonight’s the first time you’ve seen him like this. It suits him.

“You see something you like, baby?”

“I love your mustache. It’ so fucking hot,” you murmur, mesmerized, gently touching the little hairs above Joel’s lip with your fingertips. “Makes you look like an ‘80s pornstar.”

“You’re into that?” he chuckles, noting the particular fixation your inebriated brain has chosen this time—last time, it was the curve of his nose. You’re adorable.

“Fuck yeah. The only thing missing are assless chaps and a tight mesh shirt.” You wrap your arms around him and look into his beautiful brown eyes.

“Mmm, you never cease to surprise me, darlin’,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear before nibbling on your earlobe. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of my ass.”

You giggle and squeeze his cheeks to make a point, pulling away a bit to lock your lidded eyes on his. “Oh, you have no idea. I’ll tie you to your bed next time and show you if you want. Fair warning, though, I won’t be gentle.”

Joel’s eyes widen, his erection straining against the harsh fabric of his jeans.

“Careful, darlin’,” he growls into your ear, “if you can’t behave yourself, I’ll have to put you in your place. And I promise you, I won’t be gentle either.”

You can’t suppress the little moan that escapes your lips as Joel’s words go straight to your pussy. His scent, his deep voice, his broad body against yours, his dark eyes—it all has you melting in his arms, craving his touch. Badly.

“Can we go, please?” you plead, your tone carrying the unmistakable hint of neediness Joel loves to hear so much.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” he murmurs, his hands finding your waist, pulling you against his groin with a possessive grip.

You playfully roll your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, yeah, and I’m a bad, bad girl that needs to be punished—yada yada yada. Can we go now? Please?”

You pull away from his embrace with a cheeky smile and start tugging on his arm, urging him to move. Joel snorts at your impatience, thoroughly entertained by the frustrated little noises you make when he doesn’t budge.

One eyebrow raised and hands on your hips, you glare at him defiantly. You’re swaying a little now that he’s not holding you anymore.

“I’ll fucking run home and get myself off if you don’t get your ass in gear right now.”

“You still haven’t grasped the concept of asking nicely, huh? And after all this time I’ve tried to teach you,” he chuckles, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood and can’t wait to fill up that pretty little pussy of yours.”

He tilts your chin up with his thumb and index finger to search your eyes. To his satisfaction, he finds pure hunger in them. Your brain has completely shut off any and all functions except for imagining Joel taking you roughly in your bed. Or on your sofa. Or on the floor.

“Tell you what, you brat. You get a ten-second head start, and if I catch you before you reach that traffic light over there, you’re not allowed to touch me once you’re naked.” 

“And if you don’t catch me?”

Joel needs to hold back his laugh at the ridiculous idea that you’d be faster than him. 

“If I don’t catch you before the light, I’ll do that little dance you like so much.”

“Naked?” you ask with wide eyes. 

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, na–”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re running—clumsily, but fueled by a determination that outshines the haze of your drunkenness.

“–ked.”

The night air that envelops you is alive with laughter and the distant hum of the city as you stumble towards the traffic light, your unsteady steps dictated by the alcohol coursing through your veins. Your brain can’t decide between giggling and breathing, so you’re left with a side stitch and gasping for air after a few short seconds.

At least you had enough foresight to choose comfort over sexiness when you put on your sneakers tonight instead of your heels.

Joel’s eyes track you, captivated by the rhythmic sway of your legs beneath the hem of the short dress you’re wearing. Oh, how he can’t wait to feel your naked skin pressed against his. You’re always so soft, so warm, so receptive to his touch…

He snaps out of it, realizing the very real potential for a clumsy misstep, and joins the chase. His steps are more purposeful, not wanting you to trip and hurt yourself, especially not on his watch.

A few meters shy of the traffic light, he catches up, arms wrapping around you from behind. You squeal in surprise, a mixture of laughter and exhilaration bubbling up from deep inside you. Joel joins in, his laughter harmonizing with yours, as he triumphantly murmurs, “Got you” in your ear.

He sets you down gently and pulls you close as your heart is still racing, and presses his lips on yours in a deep, lingering kiss.

“Not fair,” you mumble against his lips with a pout. “And I don’t wanna live in a world where you don’t dance for me.”

Joel sighs deeply, succumbing to the irresistible charm of your big puppy eyes.

“How about this, baby. You’re good and do what I say without talking back, and I’ll dance for you until you’re dizzy. Hm?”

“Okay, sounds fair,” you murmur, wanting nothing more than to get home quickly and rip his clothes off. Riling him up in the bar and coming all over his fingers was nice, but you’ve had far from enough.

“Good girl.”

As the traffic light shifts to green, Joel’s hand instinctively finds yours, not wanting to let you stumble across the street without him holding you. You don’t think too much about it, assuming he’ll let go once you’re on the other side.

Surprisingly, though, his grip persists, and he intertwines his fingers with yours.

It’s a gesture so simple, yet it simultaneously sobers you up and sends a ripple through the carefully constructed walls you’ve built around your emotions. Confusion colors your eyes as you steal a glance at him, and he meets your eyes with a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat.

You don’t like it.

This isn’t the casual arm around the shoulder or the hand on your hip. This feels like…more. Like something you’d only do in a relationship. Joel’s touch is warm and electric, and an unsettling realization dawns—the casual arrangement you’ve shared with him suddenly seems more complicated.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

“What are you doing?” you ask, feigning nonchalance, although your heart is doing somersaults.

“What do you mean?” Joel smirks, giving your hand a playful squeeze. “Just trying to keep you from stumbling into the bushes, baby. I’m a gentleman, you know.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but the butterflies in your stomach tell a different story. The truth is, you’ve been here before—caught in the crossroads of friendship and something more. It’s a delicate balance, and one you don’t want to upset.

Joel’s the best thing that has happened to you in a long time, and you don’t want to lose what you have. But you also care for him enough that you’d let him go if your arrangement didn’t make him happy anymore.

As you finally reach your apartment building, a nervous flutter sets your heart pounding in your chest. You clear your throat and subtly allow your fingers to slip away from Joel’s, feigning the need for both hands as you rummage through your purse in search of your key.

You follow Joel inside, deliberately averting your gaze, your eyes fixed on the glowing buttons as you summon the elevator. As you step inside the confined space, a wave of memories floods your mind, recalling the last time you’ve given in to your desires when the brief elevator ride felt too long to resist.

Joel knelt in front of you, skillfully drawing an orgasm out of you with his tongue while your fingers were tangled in his dark curls. Once he had his fill, he proceeded to throw you over his shoulder and fuck you in front of your living room mirror. You’ll never forget how he forced you to look at yourself with his hand wrapped around your neck.

You’re abruptly pulled back to the present as you feel Joel’s hand finding yours once again, trying to reassure you that he’s here if you need him. You look at him with a conflicted expression, torn between appreciating his caring gesture and the fear of disappointing him.

As you shuffle to your apartment door, Joel finally breaks the silence, his voice low and soothing, “Are you alright, darlin’? Do you feel sick?” His eyes search your face, concern evident in his furrowed brow.

“Nah, just a bit tipsy,” you reply automatically, your tone light as you lean against the wall. 

However, when he starts tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, you’re unable to suppress the growing unease any longer. Tightness settles in your chest, accompanied by a fluttering sensation that dances beneath your ribcage.

“It’s just…I, uh,” you murmur, “I didn’t expect you to hold my hand is all.”

“Oh.” Joel’s gaze softens, and he releases your hand, the connection severed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, darlin’. I should’ve asked if you were okay with it, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, no, it’s not that I didn’t like it. It’s just...it felt–” you cut yourself off and sigh deeply, turning around to open your apartment door. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Joel nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I understand, darlin’. Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m sorry,” you switch on the light in your living room and throw your purse onto your sofa. “I know it’s weird, but I really…we–we shouldn’t and I…I can’t–”

“Darlin’, hey,” he steps inside and closes the door behind him. “There’s no need for you to apologize, or explain for that matter.”

You turn around and take him in for a moment. His warm eyes, his soft smile, the cute little movements his hand makes when he’s nervous—he’s just so…sweet. You’re not used to a guy being so considerate of your boundaries, and it’s incredibly hard for you to believe that he actually means it and won’t use them against you once he’s tired of you.

You know it’ll happen at some point, but you’re okay with that. This isn’t meant to last.

“Do you, uh, still wanna stay for a nightcap?” you ask him with a hopeful smile. 

“Of course I do, darlin’,” he says, tilting his head and looking at you curiously.

You open your arms, silently inviting him to draw you into a comforting embrace. You’re relieved when his response is immediate and eager.

“We’re on the same page, right?” he asks, a genuine smile on his lips as his dark eyes search yours. “We have fun, and I like spending time with you, but I want you to feel comfortable, too. If this,” he gestures between the two of you, “ever becomes more than you’re comfortable with, we talk about it. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, enjoying each other’s company.”

He pulls back slightly to gauge your reaction, his hand still gently resting on your waist. 

“Sounds perfect, Joel,” you coo in response, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Now, would you please shut up and kiss me already.”

“Alright, alright, you brat,” Joel chuckles and cups your cheek with his warm hand, before leaning in and sealing the agreement with a lingering kiss to your lips.

“Mmm, I’m so happy I met you, darlin’,” he whispers. “You’re something else, you know?”

You look into his eyes, and there’s a sincerity in them that catches you off guard. You know you shouldn’t have sex with him right now, you know you should tell him to leave. 

And yet, as soon as you feel his lips on yours again, more fervently this time, his hands exploring the contours of your back, drawing you close, the rational part of your mind fades away.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he breathes out before switching to kissing down your neck, the sensation of his soft lips on your sensitive skin making you whimper.

“I want you, Joel. I want you.”

– – –

Thanks for reading, guys!! 🤍

part 1 || series masterlist || main masterlist

tagging: @buckyispunk @koshkaj-blog @paleidiot @pattwtf @runningmom94 @tuquoquebrute @witchofthedeepwoods let me know if you want to be added!

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

Sexual Tension Prompt Meme | Open

@midgarwhispers​ asked: [ WET ] : our muses find one another in a torrential downpour of rain, both soaking wet.   (your choice of muse, and no need to answer it soon! You can wait on this one ✨)

Aurelia had only been free of that underworld for near a month, and in that time, she was still struggling, fighting, hiding on her own. She would wander near people, near the groups in the slums, but the moment she got overwhelmed, or even before, she would run. It was too much of a risk. Without her brothers and sisters, through pain and suffering, by her side, she felt lost. One moment she might feel capable and strong, the next, like a defenseless child, and it did nothing good for her emotional state.

At the very least, she found mostly monster populated areas to escape to when necessary, with a whole in the group carved by some of the beasts--at least there, when she lost control, she could hide, and avoid hurting other humans. Her abilities...they were forged within her to carve a greater path in the world, and to fail to control herself, was to fail in her own existence. At least, that’s what she’d been taught.

The woman, glowing, running through abandoned, beast swarmed slum sections... She had almost seemed like someone Aurelia could...endure being around. She was patient, she even seemed to understand. But...

No. She was of ShinRa, too. Her voice may be kind, her gaze warm, her features...soft, but what could she trust? Really? The civilians would fear and hate her. Her brothers and sisters had forgotten her, ShinRa had twisted her up and then abandoned her, and fate had tossed her out like garbage. Aurelia simply...wasn’t meant for anything but....existing, alone.

So she ran, even as the woman who called herself Rio pursued her. She just ran. It wasn’t until after she had an episode, and amidst cries to be left alone, and for the woman to run, she’d let out an explosion of flame around her, creating a small crater where she lay. She woke hours later, alone, not knowing whether she’d killed the woman or ran her off. But...either way, it was as it should be. With a heavy heart, she trudged on.

But then the day came, with the endless rain, and her secure hide away of carved out beast tunnels became a hazard, and she found herself climbing out into the greatest downpour of rain--her punishment for wandering to Sector 6, it would seem. Even when she found herself under cover of plate remains still above, the flood of rain from the open sky still spilled across the ground. She’d not gone this far, and found herself lost, cold, shiver, and wet, steaming as she felt herself on the verge so many times of loosing control, but she fought on.

It was as she stumbled into a pack of hounds, trying to escape as well, the ground turning on her so easily as they sensed the threat within, that she found herself spotting that glow once more. She found off a few of the beast, yet found herself watching the woman fight her way through some of the beasts as well...to...help her? To protect her? She couldn’t understand. All she knew, was that the woman was doing something, to aid her...and when she was exposed, the last remaining hounds took it upon themselves to attack. And so, without thinking, she blasted them with a Fira attack, and dove for Rio.

Tackling the woman out of the way, she dragged her away, finally finding raised ground, out of the pouring rain, hiding the woman in the shadows of arched metal that had fall into a perfect triangle, providing cover and shelter. Catching her breath, she finally found herself drawing back, looking to Rio. And in that moment, her mind registered the reality that she’d never been this close to her...or anyone, really, but Rio...the soft features, the fierce eyes, the glow of her and yet the absolutely human and vulnerable woman at the source of that glow... She was...beautiful... And this close, Aurelia could feel, she was warm as well. She didn’t realize how her body pressed against the other womans until now.

Flushing in the face, eyes flicking to the womans lips, she drew back quickly. “I...you shouldn’t have... I didn’t...” she swallowed, finding her mouth strangely dry, and she took a shaky breath before sighing. “...Thank you...”

[moved-to-void-kissed]

What Can and Cannot Return

In a quiet moment shared while Pavo is healing Ardea’s combat injuries, the two share a nervous exchange about Ardea’s loss of her Celestrian powers in the face of the fact that Pavo still retains hers. (1091 words)

tag list: @thatslikesometaldude | @garchompp | @beeon | @tex-treasures | @catake | @tartaglialovemail | @catcao | @vilehusband | @dragonsmooch | @childrenofmeyneth | @lilacslovers | @blackbirdcrime | @kalliopi-ships | @strawberryshipz (to be tagged in what I make, please click here!)

Here is my piece for the twenty-sixth day of sapphic September - I was originally going to portray the scene as a render using MMD, but the models just were not cooperating nicely, so I spat out this little bit of writing instead. I hope it's still alright, even if it may or may not have been slightly rushed, haha!~

Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required! If the link to the document doesn't work properly, then there is also a transcript of it under the readmore.

“..Do you mean it, when you say it does not faze you?”

It was a quiet and peaceful night as the two young women sat next to the flickering campfire. Although the party had been too tired from fighting to travel any further that day, the faint glow of torches - and with them, people - could be seen on the edge of the horizon; they would be able to properly rest in an inn soon, but for the moment, they had to make do in the open air for another night. A short distance away from the pair, a girl with bright teal hair was curled up in sleep with her extravagant dress blanketing her in a thousand colours, while a much taller individual was resting with their back to a tree stump, and even now their spear and knife still lay within easy reach.

The question was not an accusatory one, instead settling quietly into the scene, but it still made the blonde-haired girl look away and out into the darkness for a moment. She was dressed in the textbook attire of a martial artist, with a red and gold top emblazoned with the logo of a dragon over a fitted black shirt and slick slacks. Her hands were wrapped with black fabric, and the kite’s claws they usually carried were tucked away safely in her equipment bag. Her left arm was raised and in the grasp of the other girl, whose short white hair fell over her face slightly as a glow of teal magic emanated from her palms.

“What do you mean by that?” asked the martial artist, whose gaze had now flickered back to her partner.

“I believe you know what I refer to, Ardea.” she replied, still focusing on healing the wound on Ardea’s arm. It was not a serious injury, and even now was healing rapidly thanks to her spells, but it was nevertheless something that required attention. “The fact that we once shared the same abilities, and now, you have lost what you once wielded as second nature.”

“Mmm..” was all that Ardea said in response, glancing over to check that the other two were definitely asleep before continuing. “Well, it’s true that it was difficult to adapt to at the beginning, but.. We’ve come quite far now, haven’t we? So I’ve had time to adjust to the situation.”

This brought a smile to Pavo’s face, but there was still a sense of unease in her expression. “So, it is not true that you are.. jealous of me, or- anything of the sort?”

“What?” At this, Ardea turned around with a start, causing Pavo to lose hold of her arm. “Ah- My apologies!”

“Do not worry - I had already dealt with your injuries.”

“Ah, yes, I realise that now.. Thank you kindly..” Ardea muttered, moving her now woundless arm without difficulty. Then she returned to the matter at hand. “But, Pavo, whatever do you mean?”

The Celestrian looked away at this, and her wings instinctively curled closer to her body in a large sheet of white feathers. “It is just that.. You have lost the ability to use any of the magic of Celestrians, as well as both your wings and your halo, and the boons that they bestow upon you. When we happened across the carriage of the Starflight Express in that forest, it did not even react to your presence at first. Thankfully, the benevolessence we have acquired by you offering our assistance to those in peril has restored that final aspect, but.. not any of your other abilities."

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then continued before Ardea could interject.

"As for myself, on the other hand.. Though the long time I have spent upon the Protectorate has weakened my connection to the Observatory, and rendered my presence visible to mortals, all other characteristics that Celestrians bear, I have retained. The story we tell that I am a mortal sage appears satisfactory to explain my powers, at least to our adventuring companions-” - she glanced over at the sleeping pair upon saying this - “-it nevertheless does not change the fact that I wield my powers on a regular basis in combat, as I have always done since my teacher imparted these skills to me, while you have had to take on an entirely unfamiliar vocation in order to maintain appearances. So, at times, I have feared that you having to witness me freely use the selfsame powers you once shared, yet no longer can use, would perhaps be unfair.."

An expression of surprise mixed with confusion clouded Ardea’s face. "Pavo, I- I don't understand.. How long have you felt this way?"

"..It was not a recent fear." she admitted.

"Oh, in the name of the Almighty-“ In one movement, Ardea had shifted her position and launched herself with considerable vigour into the unsuspecting arms of her girlfriend. Pavo’s brief sounds of uncertainly were quickly dulled, and she instinctively clung to Ardea in return.

“Angel, listen to me for a moment, please. That is not at all how I feel, and it never has been, either - if anything, seeing you use your Celestrian abilities is part of what motivates me to find a way to get mine back. Besides, I haven't lost everything - my reflexes and agility are still leagues above those of the mortals, regardless of not having wings anymore. Isn't that right?"

"..Yes, I suppose that is very true."

"And, anyway," she continued, "I still think of myself as a Celestrian, because I am. That's what I have always been, and that will never change, regardless of what happens to me. The same is true for you, too - even after we ascend to the Realm of the Almighty, we will still be Celestrians, no matter what becomes of us. And we will still be together, too, no matter what becomes of us. Does that help?"

"Ah, that.. That does bring some relief, I admit." She turned to face the campfire with a soft and grateful smile. "Thank you, Ardea, my love. I truly appreciate your words.."

"It's never a problem, angel. I'm just sorry I didn't realise you felt that way, so I could help sort things out earlier on."

"Please, do not worry. I apologise for not confiding in you before now." she replied.

"There's no need to worry about that now, Pavo. Come on, let's get some rest."

And as the moon shone overhead, the pair settled comfortably into each other's embrace to rest by the fire.

[fostersffff]

Finished Season 4 of Castlevania: the Netflix, and thus the whole series! And I’ve got a lot to say!

Here’s the biggest observation for this season: I get the impression that they didn’t originally plan for this to be the final season. It feels like, at the start of Season 3 they believed they were going to have two more seasons, and then maybe by the time they started wrapping that up they were told they’ve been cut down to just one more, so they had to speed of the pace of Season 4 dramatically to make sure they could still hit the ending. I have no actual evidence to support this- I haven’t read any interviews or official comments to that effect- just a gut feeling based on aspects of the plot:

Biggest support of this is how quickly Saint Germaine is just like “ok I’m evil now”. He immediately submits to the random woman who tells him he’s gotta be evil to find his lady love, there’s one scene of him murdering a guy, and then he’s all-in on being a villain, complete with “I AM A GOD WHO FUCKS” monologuing.

In addition to Saint Germaine’s heel turn feeling half-baked, the Dracula’s resurrection plot in general really doesn’t feel all that important until the finale. Varney is a comic relief character, which in hindsight was completely intentional, but Ratko and Draken are just huge fighter dudes who weren’t involved with Dracula’s court during Season 2, but are very into bringing him back for reasons that are never clearly explained besides the assumed “it’s Dracula so we gotta”. Additionally, the way major characters like Hector and especially Isaac treat the resurrection plot don’t help, although it makes perfect sense that they both do what they do.

The things that happen in Targoviste, and the way they happen, also contribute, especially because there’s no satisfactory resolution to it. Trevor and Sypha start to help the people organize and rebuild, and then get whisked away to the Underground Court. They barely have time to react to the fucked up shit going on down there before they teleport to the castle to kick off the finale. More time to let hostilities between them and Zamfir bubble up before the reveal of the Underground Court, along with a more satisfying build-up to Trevor collecting the components of the Super Holy Dagger would have been good.

Season 3 ends with Alucard in Hector in very bad places: Alucard has just been betrayed by the twins vampire hunters, which has brought out a misanthropic streak, including him leaving them on pikes, and Hector has once again been duped into an even deeper submission than he was in as Carmilla’s prisoner at the end of Season 2. Trevor and Sypha’s vignettes establish that roughly a month and a half have passed, which was apparently enough time for Alucard to basically get over his trust issues, enough to help the villagers, and Hector to not only cope with the reality of his situation but also finally develop into a character on par with every other major character in terms of competence.

Carmilla and Isaac’s stories didn’t feel rushed like everything else I’ve mentioned, but following the train of thought that there was originally going to be more episodes, both of them could’ve stood to have more time and events to get to their final forms.

So, Death: I don’t know how I feel about Death as portrayed in this series. On the one hand, this interpretation technically not being Dracula’s right hand as he is in the games, and instead being an independent actor that stands to benefit from Dracula’s rampage and thus serves the same capacity as a right hand, is incredible. On the other, the fact that Death’s true personality is actually just Varney fucking blows. The design for Death is also not my favorite, because it reminds me just a bit too much of Castlevania Judgment, but Malcolm McDowell being the voice actor is really cool. In conclusion, Death is a land of contrasts.

On that note, “no it’s not Death Death, it’s an entity that calls itself Death that feeds on death and is an elemental spirit- or force of nature in other words- but is distinctly different from the personification of the concept of-” just fucking say “yeah for all intents and purposes it’s the Grim Reaper”. Coming up with a semantics explanation for why vampires get fucked up by crosses to explain the cross subweapon is fun, don’t undercut your final antagonist by trying to rationalize it into something less fantastical.

I already said that I liked the motivation behind Death, but also the execution of “I’m going to bring back Dracula wrong on purpose” and the way he accomplishes that is the best it’s ever been.

I thought Varney hopping over the stream of holy water was a fun cap on the argument about whether or not vampires can cross over running water from Season 2, but was in fact clever foreshadowing, since Death isn’t a vampire. Good stuff!

I think it’s just because I’ve been focusing a lot on animation quality over the last few months, but I noticed they started using 3D models a lot more this season. I imagine it was a matter of practicality considering that there are more action setpieces in this season than the other three combined. I think this is ultimately a good thing, because they do a very good job of masking the fact that they’re using 3D most of the time because it still looks very good, unlike some of Netflix’s other 3D action projects, and if it makes life easier for the animators without sacrificing quality then that’s a win for everyone.

Didn’t think much of it at first, but I’ve really come to appreciate the term “night creatures” as a catch-all for monsters in this series. It’s generic enough to encompass everything regardless of design difference, but more unique than just ‘monsters’ or ‘demons’.

I had heard someone make a joke about a character wearing Artorias Dark Souls’s armor for a scene because fuck you, but holy shit, Striga really does just wear Artorias Dark Souls’s armor for a scene because fuck you.

When Saint Germaine first shows up, his lines sound really low quality compared to Alucard and Greta, and then that issue goes away after that episode. I imagine that it was pandemic related, but clearly Bill Nighy was either able to get into a studio or eventually got a better home setup- couldn’t you just have him re-record those lines?

I’ve talked so much about how Carmilla’s design in this series is The Best™ because they masterfully adapted a single sprite with no animation from a 1987 video game into a fully realized design, and this frame in particular struck me as perfect. This is the best this character has ever looked and likely will ever look.

I love how optimistic and positive the tone of everyone’s ending is. Ranging from the unexpectedly beautiful and uplifting resolution to Isaac’s story, to the foundation of a town that fundamentally accomplishes what Lisa hoped for at the very beginning of the series, it’s all nice way to go out. Even Lenore choosing to commit suicide, while not necessarily optimistic or positive, is at least on her own terms.

Dracula and Lisa also having a happy ending is nice. It doesn’t really make any sense, and it makes me wonder what Richter’s call to action is going to be in the next series, but I think they were right to have the series end with the same two characters it opened with.

AYY SOMEONE THREW A WINE GLASS!!!

Unfortunately, I’d say Season 4 is the weakest of the series, but they did everything they could to make sure they provided an explosive finale and a solid ending. This was a damn good show and without a doubt the best thing to be associated with Castlevania in over a decade. Not that it had much competition there, but still!

As a final note on the nature of Castlevania as an adaptation: I can certainly understand why certain people don’t like this series. If you’re looking for Castlevania: The Video Game: The Animated Series, you’d walk away disappointed because of how many things were changed in adaptation, how much they were changed, and that so much is just made up from whole cloth. But an animated series isn’t a video game, and while an eight episode series where each episode is a different stage of non-stop fight scenes, complete with a big boss fight at the end sounds like it could be cool, if that’s what I really want I’d probably be better served just playing a game.

[bedtimebrain]

EXO Baekhyun: Cry for Love Part 2

Just here to give a warning on the ending before you get started!! (ref to a/n in part 1!)

Part 1

Let’s go!!!

Characters: Baek x you

Baekhyun finds himself falling for you, but feels he cannot be so selfish to put the burdens of dating an idol upon you. In an attempt to control his feelings, he tries to stay away from you

That night they got to go home early. Reaching home close to 11, Baekhyun decided there was time for some computer games before sleeping.

After taking a shower, he quickly turned on his desktop, setting all his gaming gears ready. Realising his phone wasn’t with him, he went out to the living room to search for it.

‘Ah, found you!’

As he was about to head to his room after picking his phone up from the sofa, he caught sight of your gift that was sitting on the coffee table. 

He can’t help but feel really conflicted, taking a long look at it.

After a good while, he forcefully shook off those feelings and went back in to get started on his game instead.

‘ARGH! what a bad form today’ he took off his headphones and threw it on the table. Ruffling through his hair, he was so frustrated at himself. No matter how he tried, he just couldn’t keep you out of his mind.

Not having the mood to play anymore, he switched off his computer and crashed into bed.

--

In an attempt to push you out of his mind, he busied himself with work every single day for the next few weeks. Every free time he had, he decided to fill it up with more practice, more work instead.

But he had worked so hard (just to forget you) that his immune system gave up on him. He was eventually excused from work so he doesn’t spread the virus to the members.

And the worst thing of it all? It gave him ample time to think about you.

He thought about the way you smile, the way you listened to him when he shared about anything, the way you looked, so attractively, when you made your coffees. Did you think about him? Did another oppa come by?

Sighing, he got up from bed and decided finally to open the gift you gave him from a month back.

The following day, he woke up feeling much better.  But for the whole morning, he felt this annoying nudging inside of him to go see you. No matter what he did, that feeling just wouldn’t budge.

Did y/n put a spell in the tea she gave me or something. 

He was almost going mad from thinking about you. 

Giving up , he told himself 

Just once, I’m going to drive by and look at how she’s doing. That’s all. Then when I see her being all the same, I’ll finally forget all about this, and convince myself I’m just another customer in her daily life.

The journey to your cafe seemed faster than usual today. His heart was beating so rapidly but he kept telling himself over and over 

just once, doesn’t mean anything

and my heart’s just beating fast because im not completely recovered. Yep, sick people get exhausted easily. 

When he had reached , he park his car where he could get a good view of you. 

He was tempted to get out of his car but his mind was in chaos.

they say coffee helps with headache. Maybe I should get one in case I get a headache at home later right?

Then again, his logical self told him

Ya, Byun Baekhyun stop making up lame reasons. Just stay here.

As he was being wishy washy with himself in the car, a customer had arrived at the cafe. Dashing his hopes of having a private time with you.

Perhaps it was fate that he should admire you from his car today instead.

After getting a satisfactory treatment for his love sick heart, he drove away feeling like a small boy being fed with ice cream.

—

After that visit, it only got harder and harder to stay away. He returned again and again.

But he wasn’t the only one. 

There too was another man who kept returning to your cafe, and today was the fifth time he had seen the man, which really annoyed him.

But what position was he to do anything?

I’m telling myself that I cannot have her as my girlfriend but on the other hand im getting irritated she might become someone else’s girlfriend?

He thought of a crude but relatable phrase he heard from somewhere:

I’m really just wanting to ‘hog the toilet bowl without pooping’

His train of thoughts came to an end as he arrived at the company. After getting his car parked , he went to the meeting room where they were supposed to gather.

When all the members had arrived, the staff who was in charge of the album preparation started running through the day’s agenda.

‘Okay guys, we will be doing an additional MV for one of the side tracks. It would be an autumn special MV.

Since it’s an autumn concept, we will be mainly be doing outdoor shoots. There’s only 1 indoor shoot which will be at a cafe. Anyone has any questions ? If not we will start briefing on the storyboard’

Baekhyun wasn’t able to focus on the meeting. What was he supposed to you when he’s so drawn to you but yet wasn’t sacrificial enough either to be okay with seeing you happy with another guy. In fact, it made him scared to lose you when he never had you in the first place.

Baekhyun ah, let her go. It’s good for you and her. Stop visiting her, it only breaks your heart and at the same time make you desire her more. It’s impossible between the both of you..

By the time he was a little more settled with himself, the meeting had already ended.

‘Okay, that’s all we have today. It’s Thursday today... Alright, We will start shooting on Monday since this is quite a spontaneous idea, we might be a bit back on time. We will start with the cafe shoot on Monday at 10am, only Baekhyun and kyungsoo is involved for this as the cafe is too small. We will update the rest on the schedule later.’ --

4 days passed and now he is standing in front of the cafe for his shoot. Reading the signboard ‘Wendy Cafe’.

For the dramatic effect, he even blinked his eyes again to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. What in the world was this sorcery called fate... It felt abit weird for him to be here for work when he was normally here for his romantic pursuit. It got him into a little of a panic and shock when they alighted from the van.  He wasn’t expecting to see you, since they normally made sure the set was cleared completely for set up before the members even arrive. Though his heart felt it would really be nice to see you, he also heaved a sigh of relief that he doesn’t have to think about what to say to you since you wouldn’t be here.

Entering the cafe, kyungsoo and baekhyun greeted everyone politely and got ready for the set with the help of their make up artists. 

‘Annyeonghasayo Baekhyun ssi, Kyungsoo ssi. I am the director for the MV, Lee Taemin’

Quickly getting up, they bowed politely and returned the greetings.

‘Could I just explain the set to the both you right now?

So basically in today’s set one of you would be a barista, and one would just be a customer….’

The director trailed on with the briefing,

But there was something bugging Baekhyun. Baekhyun could swear there was something really familiar about this man; like he had seen him somewhere before. But he just couldn’t recall exactly right now.

‘Ok, We will have kyungsoo ssi as the barista and Baekhyun ssi the latter. A real barista will be coming in later to help you out kyungsoo ssi, don’t worry’

Finishing his brief, the director turned to leave. Then it finally clicked in Baekhyun’s mind.

Oh gawd, he’s the guy that keeps visiting y/n

Thinking it through, it now absolutely make sense.

When he arrived, he was thinking how were they even able to find this cafe for use?

He thought to himself, surely you and Director Taemin must be really close if you were willing to let your shop to him for use. 

ah, but im sure y/n would let me use it too if i had asked.

He can’t help but feel a little salty instinctively. 

Suddenly across the room, the director exclaimed

‘Y/N you’re here!’

At the sound of Director Taemin calling your name, his heart skipped a beat and he immediately turned his head around to find you walking through the door. And was absolutely taken away

You were not in your pony tail or your white button down shirt with a black apron. You were not in the plain make up you normally put on either.

You came through the door wearing a mid length denim skirt and a white v neck with a green khaki coat that ended at the bottom of your skirt. Your long hair sat nicely at the front of your coat.

Though he had seen a fair share of cute, pretty and sexy girls in the entertainment industry, you somehow still took his breath away. 

As you moved across the room with Taemin, his eyes unconsciously followed where you went. Till when Kyungsoo shook him, was he finally able to tear his eyes away from you.

‘Baekhyun ah, I was talking to you , were you listening?’

‘Ye Ye, what did you say?’

They went on discussing about some of the other schedules they were to be having, until a familiar voice caused him to freeze.

‘Hello, I’m y/n, I’m the owner of this shop. I heard Kyungsoo ssi would be the barista actor? I’ll be the one teaching you later’

Kyungsoo looked up and greeted you politely while Baekhyun was still in a daze.

Seeing how he didn’t respond, you greeted him with a bright smile

‘Hello Baekhyun ssi’

Without waiting for Baekhyun to respond, you asked Kyungsoo to follow you to behind the kitchen now as there wasn’t much time to learn.

Watching you and kyungsoo walked away together, he mentally hit himself in the head. 

oh shucks she must think im a real jerk now. Making friends with her, then not coming here for months and the next time we meet i didn’t even greet her. 

Argh kyungsoo, give me my time with Y/N.

Though he was feeling a little lousy about the situation, he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He sat at corner table inside the shop while waiting for his scene set up to be completed.

Looking at you and kyungsoo, he had a monologue with himself 

though i really like her, i should probably let her go. the smile on her face, though i am confident i will be able to give it to her, but what if i bring more sadness than happiness?

The both of you having fun made him so jealous. He started imagining you with another guy, you with Taemin? He hated that feeling so much, but he had to accept this. He told himself, he must.

About 2 hours later , he was done with his shoot and all could break for lunch. Over lunch time, you and kyungsoo stuck together as time was tight. Kyungsoo couldnt practice using the coffee machine earlier when baekhyun was filming. 

Not once did you look over at him or even seem to think about talking with him. It was as if you guys were strangers.

Ah, great, this is how it should be like. She’s better than me at this. While i’m over here suffering about how to forget about her, she seem to be getting along just fine. She’s completely acting like she doesn’t know me.

Not being able to stand being around you anymore, he annoyed his manager hyung to drive him back to the SM building first. Coming up with some crap excuses that were questionable. But his manager hyung still sent him back since there was still time to spare before kyungsoo was done.

On his ride back, he set his resolve to let you go but he told himself 

no matter what, we were once friends that could count on each other. i don’t want to end up hurting her, and making her lose more hope in friendships. 

I’ll go back tonight to find her.

--

At about 5.30 pm, kyungsoo sent a text message in their group chat that the filming has ended. Receiving that intel, he got ready to head off to your café. The production crew would need at least another half an hour to pack up anyway. He had ample time to get there.

As perfect as he had planned, when he arrived, the café was already cleared of the production team, but the lights were still on. He knew you would still be cleaning up after everyone left.

Out of courtesy, he knocked on the glass door, causing you to jump in surprise instead. Smiling at him, you beckoned him in.

‘Why are you back here?’ You asked while sweeping the floor.

‘It’s been a long time, isn’t it nice to see each other again?’ He asked casually, but he could feel his palms sweating already

You looked up at him and smiled without replying as you continued cleaning up.

‘So how are you? I’m sorry I haven’t been here for really long, EXO’s comeback is coming soon we are really busy ….’

Before he could even complete his sentence, you cut him off

‘Yes I know. It’s all on twitter and I watch your group’s vlive too. I know you guys have a lot to prepare and are really busy. Don’t have to apologise’

Though he knew you truly meant what you say, it broke his heart a little. He wasn’t really sure what to say anymore. But he wanted to ask this since the start

‘Why did you rent your place to be an MV set? Did you know it was for EXO?’

‘It’s just a favour I’m returning to Taemin ssi. He only told me it was for EXO when he asked for my help last week. But anyway, it’s really nice to see you being serious at work. Now I know why you have so many fangirls~’

‘Are you my fangirl now then?’ Baekhyun asked and waited expectantly.

‘Why? Are you going to give me your autograph if I said yes?’ You put aside the cleaning cloth and washed your hands while replying him jokingly.

‘Anyway, I’m done, shall we go?’

You grabbed your bag as you asked. As you walked right passed him, he reached out to grab your arm without even thinking.

Hesitantly, he started

‘Hey actually, I came today because I have something to tell you’

Staring right into his eyes, you replied

‘I kinda knew it already. Why would you suddenly come back here after not being here for so long. And the fact that you’re here at this hour… You’re definitely not coming here as a customer right?’

Looking at him with a hard expression, Baekhyun was surprised to see something other than ‘manners’ or indifference on your face after all this while.

‘I’m really sorry. I don’t even know how or where to start. I really liked your company, the friendship we had meant a lot to me. But as we got more comfortable, I don’t even know when... but....to be honest..

I started falling for you. I didn’t know what to do, can you understand this?’

He loosened his grip, letting your arm slowly slip out of his hands.

‘Remember the day you gave me the gift? I went home feeling so conflicted. I want us to be together so bad, but I know I can’t even promise you a regular and peaceful life, much less a stable relationship now. The weight of dating an idol, how could I put that upon you? ‘

‘You’re right, I could never carry that weight’ you reply came through like a stab to his heart.

He broke his eyes away from you momentarily. But you continued,

‘All this while, I thought I had done something wrong when I gave you the gift. I wondered why you didn’t come back, I thought we were friends, that’s why I even mustered up courage to get a present for you. But you never came back after that. I thought could it be that Baekhyun ssi started finding me weird like all my bullies last time? Was I over doing it? I asked myself that every now and then, worried that my desire to want to be friends with you may turn you off instead.

Sometimes when you tell funny stories, inside I thought how cute this guy is. When you were serious, I thought even though you’re so cheeky on the outside, you’re a man inside having to carry so many burdens. I wanted to say more, do something for you all this time, but I was worried about so many things.

Eventually when you stopped coming back for a while, I felt heart broken. 

But I used the time to think it all through. What did I want with you? A friendship? Something more? And I decided it’s best to not desire anything at all. I could never handle it if one day I want something more that neither of us could give each other’ 

Though you tried so hard to control, tears rolled down your cheeks. It hurts him to know he was the reason for your tears. 

He reached out to wipe your tears away, and you let him. 

‘Baekhyun ssi, I… I’m sorry too’ 

Overwhelmed with emotions at all the confession and looking at your beautiful face that leaned against his hand, he couldn’t hold back anymore, He closed the gap between both of you and gave you a kiss on the lips. A kiss so light it barely lasted a few seconds.

Heart beating fast, he pulled away slightly, his face still so close to yours. ‘I’m sorry for being selfish right now. But I want you to know this is how I feel.’

Before he knew it, your lips pressed against him once again. Briefly, then pulling away, you pushed him away, putting some distance between the both of you.

‘Me too. But Baekhyun-ssi...

Sometimes love isn’t about possessing, but giving

So I’ve told myself it’s okay for me as long as I can see you and support you in my own way. Be it your albums, shows, or whatever it may be.

My café doors will always be open for you as long as you need a listening ear or even just coffee....

Don’t be sorry. I understand, I just want to be the safe space you can still go to, rather than your burden.. If we were together.’

He could tell you were trying hard to manage a smile just so he could feel better. He moved closer and pulled you into a hug. 

‘I know you said not to be sorry, but I’m sorry ... And thank you’, his voice akin to a whisper

After a long pause, you returned his hug, and at your touch, he was at the brink of tears. You were possibly his once in a lifetime, but here you both were, giving up on each other, for each other.  He tried so hard to hold back his tears, but they streamed down eventually 

He rarely ever cried, but for you… If he couldn’t have you, at least he should be allowed to cry for you. 

He tightened the hug and could only wish for the night to never end. 

——-

Was hella hard to write this, sorry for this really tragic ending.

But partly writing it this way because I guess as fangirls one of the best things we can give our favs is a safe space to be real with us. Love isn’t about possession. So let’s love them right ok☺️

On a side note, was shook at his fan sign convos. Especially the one he said though he said it’s ok if we leave him for a while because it’s difficult to wait, he didn’t actually mean it.

What a sweetheart!! All the more makes me feel like he might really respond this way if he is faced with this kind of situation (as in this fanfic)?!

Anw hope you guys enjoyed this !

Tag(s): @wooya1224

[cloudsnbones]

Ok so quick note, thanks to @wonderofasunrise whose blog I found these prompts on and thus which proceeded to steal. this is no. 11. :)

Excuse for being lazy: also yes this is only meant to be short so like sorry for not expanding on things at all. Perhaps I shall make up for that next time ;)

This is set in s8 around wintery times.

Please enjoy :3

“I thought I would be okay with just being friends but… All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore.”

Kerry lay quietly, her cheek resting on Susan’s chest, her eyes shut in a warm, pensive bliss – two souls in harmony.

Their illicit affair had begun as a matter of surprise to them both; after a night of heavy drinking and deep confessions they awoke the next morning sharing a bed, and what had started as a one-night stand became a regular thing after replicating the original night twice over.

Not only had their sexual relationship grown in a way that neither could have imagined, but an understanding, a friendship had also developed which had allowed themselves to trust wholeheartedly and without the fear of judgment for the first time in a very long time.

Kerry had indeed gotten accustomed to arriving home and finding Susan outside waiting for her, she had started to prepare dinners big enough for two in anticipation of an inevitable phone call asking to spend the night. Everything was falling into place. Therefore, it could never have lasted.

“I think we should end it.”

Whatever ‘it’ was. The nebulous nature of their relationship was growing all too much for Kerry, because, to tell the truth, she had fallen.

She didn’t think that there had ever been a time when she wasn’t in love with Susan Lewis, but to have been finally exposed in full to that euphoria, to live out her long-term dream, one she’d barely registered before now, was bittersweet…when she knew that Susan would never, could never requite what she felt inside.

Susan was surprised at the statement. She had never really thought about ending it, actually ending it. To be honest, since this whole thing started, she hadn’t really thought about anything at all. She knew that they were never going to be a “they”, Kerry Weaver and Susan Lewis: ER Power Couple, but she couldn’t help feel a little, disappointed at the idea of losing her? Although, she wasn’t really going to be lost, just not there in the same way. It just seemed really random, why now? Had she been planning this for a while? It was going well, she had thought, but knowing Kerry perhaps to her this wasn’t right. Anyway, best to end things whilst they’re good right? She clung to that thought in the hope that it might fill the suspicious hole she felt deep down in her chest.

The two promised to stay friends, it’s always nice to have an ally. And Susan was just fine with that, one-hundred-percent completely fine.

“23-year-old male, multiple head lacs, altered, LOC, vitals stable, BP 120/80,” announced the new EMT Danielle as she tried to shake her overgrown fringe out of her eyes.

It was just then as Susan and Kerry approached to take the trauma that the man in question lent over and wretched blood all over Danielle’s jacket causing Kerry and Susan to jump back a little before grabbing the sides of the gurney so that she could sort herself out. The man started to lose consciousness again as they raced to get him inside.

Danielle shed her jacket leaving it on the tarmac of the ambulance bay revealing a white vest and tattoo sleeves before she continued her debrief whilst following the pair to the trauma room, “Received 50 of Lidocaine at the scene, complains of dizziness and neck pain,” she continued.

As they entered the trauma room Susan finally took a look at the woman speaking and what said woman was wearing, “Nice top,” she said her eyes lingering a little bit too long.

“Thanks,” replied Danielle looking down at herself briefly before smiling to show her gratitude.

“LIFT ON 1, 2, 3!” Kerry ordered loudly cutting their little interaction short.

And as Susan lent over to start working on the man she felt Danielle put something small into her pocket whispering, “I’ll see you later.”

She stared as the woman left the trauma room only to look back around to see Kerry watching her icily.

After the man was stabilised, Kerry and Susan left the trauma room ripping their gloves and their aprons off as they did so before tossing them into the trash.

They both started in the same direction, practically colliding, Kerry extending an arm to institute a satisfactory, colleague-appropriate space between them.

“Tough trauma.”

“Yeah, I s’pose…Hey, did I tell you that Susie went to see that film they’ve all been talking about, Shrek(?) the other day, oh my god I have not heard her be so excited about something in months, and the way she talked about the donkey in it you would think that the two were going out, but alas no. Apparently, he is indeed taken by a dragon as is so often the case with actually desirable men,” she ranted enthusiastically putting on a heightened English accent to emphasise the slander.

Kerry listened quietly as she felt Susan’s words dig into her further and further, she should be happier for her, she knew that, but everything was closing in on her and she didn’t like it.

They entered the Doctor’s Lounge and as soon as the door shut behind them and it was clear to Kerry that no one else was in there, she started, “Listen, I don’t wanna make a big deal outta it but I just wanted to let you know that it’s considered a little inappropriate to get distracted by pretty EMTs when working a trauma at least from a management perspective, now as it’s never happened before obviously it’s not a problem but just so you know for any future interactions that they should be left till after you’ve finished working on the patient.”

Susan’s smile failed immediately at the mini reprimand. “Kerry it was nothing I promise.”

“Uhuh – well even if that is the case it’s still inappropriate,” Kerry said pointing her nose in the air.

Kerry’s stiffness on the subject angered Susan who huffed before retorting, “And even if it WAS something I don’t think that’s any of your business, you know Kerry Weaver, not everything is about you I realise, ok, that you’re the only person in YOUR world but that’s not the same for the rest of us,” as she raised her voice, she stepped closer and closer to Kerry refusing to break eye contact for a second.

Kerry was frozen in place, her lip quivering slightly and her eyes conveying only a hint of pain and fear behind their broken shields.

They were practically toe-to-toe, and their proximity almost immediately caused Susan to calm down as if her body was anticipating Kerry’s touch, Kerry’s smell, Kerry’s warmth.

The electricity burning Kerry’s skin as her beloved towered over her, not knowing, never knowing, what those words meant to her. Why although dealing with hurtful comments was part of the job, was always part of the job, they felt different coming from her.

But as cupid’s taunting strings gradually lured them together, the door burst open loudly causing the women to practically jump out of their skin in order to create distance between them.

It was Chuny; “Doctor Weaver there’s a guy wandering around the admit desk I think he’s your patient, Mr. Reid?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Chuny,” Kerry replied a little too shrilly, her eyes still fixed on Susan. She stayed there for a few more seconds before finally awakening in herself the willpower to sort out the wanderer.

As the last sounds of her crutch hitting the floor faded away into the dissonant noise of the ER Chuny joked, “Did you just have it from Weaver, I bet you didn’t miss those in Phoenix!” before closing the door and leaving.

But ‘missing Weaver’ was really the only thing Susan was able to do at that moment, she turned towards the window to wipe away a tear. Then, she shook herself from head to toe, set her face back to neutrality and spun around so she could go back to work.

Kerry stood alone, her arms restless as if they were missing something, or someone, her kitchen echoing with emptiness. As she stared half-heartedly at the risotto she was making she heard a buzz followed by three rapid knocks. Kerry pulled herself out of her reverie, grabbed her crutch and headed over to the front door.

Upon opening, she saw Susan shivering in a short tan trench coat, her arms wrapped around herself, her right foot tapping the ground beneath her. When she heard the click of the latch she lifted her head and the expression Kerry saw sent a shiver through her, Susan’s eyes were wide and deep inside them there seemed to be some sort of lingering discomfort.

“Hey,” she said shyly before pulling the door to and stepping out into the cold winter’s night also, “What are you doing here?”

“Um…I’m not sure to be honest,” was the esteemed reply.

“Aren’t you cold? Do you want t-”

“Kerry there’s something I have to say and if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I ever will so.”

“Uh…ok, um, go right ahead.”

“I’m so tired, of all this of going to back to the old normal, whatever the hell that was, you know I-” she broke off, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions started to get the better of her, “I thought I would be okay with just being friends but…All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore. And even when you’re mad and being a bitch, I just want to hold you because then I know everything’ll be all right.” And on those final words she broke down, it could have been the cold, it could have been the pressures of moving back to a town where no one really remembered her, but in that moment, it didn’t matter what the exact cause was because her Susan was upset and it yanked at her heartstrings.

The women stood there silently, Susan looking at the floor and Kerry looking at Susan, frozen in light of the revelation, trying to calculate what best to do. When Kerry still didn’t say anything, Susan raised her head once more to look at her and being met only with an unreadable, blank expression, she felt she could take a hint.

Not wanting to stand in the scene of her rejection any longer Susan said, “Goodnight,” in a dejected, barely audible voice before turning around and heading down the steps leading up to the house. And it was this that triggered Kerry’s ability to move once more.

“Wait!” she called out, as she reached her hand out for the banister and tried to rush down the stairs, but her hurriedness and the light frost worked against her and as Susan turned around Kerry practically tumbled into her arms.

And at this intimacy, there was only one thing left for them really, because love doesn’t require logical thinking, sometimes all it needs is an impulse.

Kerry pulled herself up muttering a word of thanks before running her hand through Susan’s hair and slowly, softly bringing her down for a kiss.

And as a thousand fireworks went off in their minds, they simultaneously knew that “they” would last forever.

[sunflwrvolume6]

plausible deniability [thirty-two]

“generosity”

An enormous boxing ring takes up most of the space, and blue mats cover the floor around it. Bare light bulbs hang overhead, bright spots of white illuminating the scene. Metal scrapes against concrete, and Aila turns her head. Tania waves jauntily from her chair at the edge of the mats, and Zayn and Harry sit on either side of her.

[ao3 ☆ wattpad]

[previous ☆ next]

[masterlist]

The courier comes back an hour later, this time bearing a message with only Terms accepted. Aila doesn’t bother responding. The meeting is set. It’s the worst decision she’s ever made, but Tania said it herself: Working with Irwin is their best bet at making sure he doesn’t wage a war.

Even if Aila wanted to reply, she has no chance. She has just reached the study when Liam appears at her side. He latches onto her arm and drags her down the corridor. She struggles against his hold.

“Excuse me, that’s my arm you’re ripping off my body.” Aila frowns when he stays silent. “Liam? What’s going on?”

“C’mon, we don’t have much time.”

“‘Time’? Time for what?”

Again with the not answering. So Aila shuts up and stumbles after him through the kitchen and down the stone staircase to the basement. He takes a right instead of straight ahead—away from the infirmary—and shoves her forward. Aila gapes at the set-up in front of her.

An enormous boxing ring takes up most of the space, and blue mats cover the floor around it. Bare light bulbs hang overhead, bright spots of white illuminating the scene. Metal scrapes against concrete, and Aila turns her head. Tania waves jauntily from her chair at the edge of the mats, and Zayn and Harry sit on either side of her.

Liam gestures her into the ring. As soon as she is within reach, he yanks her hands toward him and begins winding tape around her knuckles. “We have loads to teach you. Just in case, I mean. I highly doubt Irwin will try anything, he’s too intrigued by you. But we never know what could happen. Figure out who you’re gonna take?”

“N-not yet. You, maybe?”

“Can’t be me, love. Or Zayn. Irwin will think it’s an ambush.”

Aila gasps as he swings a moment later, barely managing to duck in time. His fist still grazes her ear. Cursing, she lashes out, but he blocks the blow easily. The next punch lands against her jaw. It’s evident he’s holding back, not letting loose with all of his might, but fuck, it hurts anyway.

“Pause.” Tania slithers under the ropes, sauntering to Aila’s side. “Hands up here, protect your chest and face. If not, you’re gonna end up as ugly as dumbass Styles.”

Harry splutters, “Oi! What did I do?”

Aila giggles even as she lets Tania move her into position. Once the woman is satisfied, Tania grips the ropes, slides under the bottom one, then takes her seat once more. Aila makes the mistake of not paying attention: Liam’s fist sinks solidly into her gut.

By the time Robert interrupts two hours later, Aila has a split lip and a ringing in her ears that won’t go away. Liam grins, blood dripping from his mouth, then climbs out of the ring. He holds tightly to his ribs as he walks away. She leans against the ropes and takes the towel Harry holds out to her.

“Miss Aila, Mister Niall wishes to speak with you.”

“Thanks, Robert.” Aila sits on the mat as the valet passes over the telephone. Her chest aches when she tries to inhale deeply. “Hey, love. Miss me already?”

“What’s going on?”

Aila frowns then realises what it must sound like, her wheezing breaths and voice that trembles. “No worries. Everything is fine. Just working out for the first time in forever. The only thing worrisome is maybe me dying from my lungs collapsing.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Niall replies with a snort of amusement.

“I don’t think ‘enjoying’ is the proper word for it, but sure. What’s up?”

“I was just wanting to check in on you. I do miss you already.”

Aila turns away from the knowing look Tania throws her way. “I miss you, too. Oh! Before I forget,” she starts before swallowing. She has no idea how he is going to react. “I’m having lunch with a—a friend tomorrow. I won’t be able to talk to you until later.”

“I see.” Niall’s voice is tight, controlled. Measured. “Take your mobile in case it ends... early. I don’t want you to have to walk home. Going alone?”

“Nope. I want to do some shopping after, so Harry is gonna go with me. Someone has to carry all my stuff, and it certainly isn’t going to be me.”

“Wish I could be there,” murmurs Niall, and she closes her eyes. The unspoken meaning rings clear in his words: I wish I could protect you.

“Don’t worry so much, love. It’s only lunch. I’ll pester you as soon as I’m done.”

Aila doesn’t want to, but someone is trying to get his attention. So she ends the call after another reassurance that she’ll be smart about this. That she will be safe. She can’t monopolise his time, not when he’s meant to be fostering new connections.

When she climbs to her feet, Tania is right behind her. A pair of black ankle boots dangle from her fingertips, and Aila gapes at the length of the heels.

“What’s with the shoes?”

Tania smirks and shoves the boots into Aila’s hands. “Gotta learn to run in heels, babe.”

Aila spends hours following Tania’s ever command—walking on the mats, in the boxing ring, up and down the stairs, and even along the edge of the indoor pool. Running takes far more effort. She barely manages to not fall into the water, and that’s only because Liam yanks her back onto her feet.

Finally, Tania deems it ‘acceptable’. Aila can’t argue with the less-than-satisfactory assessment. She’s too tired and sore. Harry makes sure Aila’s wounds are superficial before letting her leave the infirmary. Her feet ache as she pads through the house barefooted; any shoes would be torture.

She doesn’t speak during dinner, but no one expects conversation from her. They must see her exhaustion, the winces whenever she moves. Sparring with Liam is quickly catching up with her. Lilyen clears her plate from the table with a bow, and Aila forces a smile before leaving the dining room.

Mera already has a hot bath drawn by the time Aila shuffles into the bedroom. “Allow me to help you, Miss.”

Aila does. A voice in her head tells her she should be mortified at the fact Mera is pulling her clothes off, that Mera helps her into the tub. Instead, it feels… nice, if awkward, to be taken care of like this. This is Mera’s job, but more than that, the woman has become a friend.

“Mera?” Aila groans as she sinks into the water. “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not a miracle worker. You’re fucking amazing.”

Mera grins, ducking her head. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Aila. When you’re finished with your bath, Mister Niall has a salve he uses when he exerts himself too hard.”

“So… every day?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that implication, Miss.”

“Every day,” laughs Aila before she submerges herself.

She falls asleep in the middle of Mera rubbing the cream into her back, calloused hands pressing firmly against the tension.

Tania drags Aila out of bed at the crack of dawn the next morning. While Aila eats breakfast, the other woman stays behind to pick out an outfit. Aila tries to protest at the clothes spread out on the bed, but Tania doesn’t budge. So with no small amount of reluctance, Aila dresses in what Tania chose.

Aila doesn’t see how the meeting this afternoon will go well when Irwin can see the subtle hint of the bra straps criss-crossing over her chest through the semi-sheer blouse or how the black slacks hug her legs and ass.

By the time Tania finishes with her, Aila hardly recognises herself: Dark eyeliner accentuates the blue of her eyes, and her blood-red lips look fuller. Mera pulls Aila’s hair into a sleek, severe bun. The ankle boots from last night complete the outfit, and Tania steps back to examine her handiwork.

“Good enough,” she finally announces.

“Do I really need—?”

“Yes. Look, I know what Irwin likes, okay? I know how he thinks.” Tania touches up her own makeup before catching Aila’s eye in the mirror. “He isn’t going to expect you looking like this, like one of us. He’ll be thinking you’ll be just as demure and innocent as you were in the club.”

“I just…”

“Do you trust me?”

“As terrifying as you are, yes.”

“Then shut the fuck up and get downstairs. We have less than three hours and shit to do.”

The ‘shit to do’ turns out to be a manicure—Tania explains it away with a quick Gotta treat yourself sometimes. Aila settles back in her chair and lets the nail tech do his job. At least it keeps her mind off of what’s coming.

Harry listens as Aila complains the entire drive to the warehouse. She whines about her body still hurting, the tight bun tugging at her scalp, even the too-bright sunlight. He doesn’t tell her to shut up, only watches her hands gesturing wildly. But the instant the car comes to a stop in the car park, Aila can’t speak. She stares out the window at the rusted metal walls, the enormous gaping hole where the doors should be.

“Hey, you’ll do great,” Harry whispers. “Just be as assertive and confident as you were at the club.”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “I’ll need liquor for that.”

Yuri opens the car door before she can change her mind about the meeting. About everything. Aila follows the guard, Harry follows Aila, and soon enough, they’re at the entrance. Aila lifts her chin and steels her spine. Be confident, she thinks to herself, hoping to inspire courage. Pretend you don’t want to run away.

Irwin sits at a table in the centre of the cavernous room. A man stands behind him, another at Irwin’s left. Aila ignores the guard and inspects Irwin’s second out of the corner of her eye. His bleached hair flops over his pale, round face, and his brow quirks in Harry’s direction. The door screeches as it slides shut. Yuri murmurs an apology for the noise.

Without the sunlight, the warehouse is colder, darker save for the bare bulbs hanging over the table. The concrete bears cracks of time and use, and plywood boards cover what Aila assumes were once windows. Something rustles in the rafters overhead.

“Ah, the blushing bride-to-be,” Irwin drawls, waving at the chair across from him. “Lovely even in the daylight. And shadows.”

Aila approaches the table with determined strides. She can’t let him see how terrified she is. She sits though she doesn’t want to. The chill of the chair seeps through the fabric of her slacks.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Styles, how wonderful to see you.” His voice is hard, icy. Lacking any sincerity.

“Piss off, Irwin.”

Irwin laughs then turns toward Aila. His cold, almost shark-like, eyes roam across her body. They’re so much like Harry’s—green with a touch of brown—but vastly different. Harry never looks at her like this, not even back in the beginning. She represses a shudder.

“Ashton Irwin. You are?” When Aila doesn’t respond, he chuckles. “I suppose we should begin. Does your dashing groom know you’ve come without him by your side?”

“He does.”

“And he still allowed you to come, even though he can’t protect you if I decide to take your life right now?”

“He trusts me,” she says instead of bolting from her chair. “He also trusts you aren’t stupid enough to start a war.”

“Ah, trust. Very rare in this line of work.”

“I suppose so.”

Ashton laughs again. It’s not the same as before—almost warm, lighter. Not kinder. Aila is taken aback at how different he looks when he’s truly amused.

“I’ll just have to earn your trust, then. Now, Miss Bride—” At this, he sits up straighter, elbows on the table and holds folded before him. “I meant what I said the other night. You and I will get on quite nicely.”

“That depends entirely on the reason for this meeting. And your behaviour.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be a good boy.” He winks quickly before sobering. “Horan and I… We’ve been at odds for years. Consequence of inheriting ‘companies’, shall we say, from fathers and grandfathers hellbent on destroying each other. You understand how this works, yeah?”

Aila raises a brow and struggles to pretend her hands aren’t trembling under the table. “I like to think I’m not a complete moron, so yes.”

“I’m sure you aren’t. One thing Horan has going for him: He doesn’t suffer lightly fools and idiots. Anyway. The symbiotic relationship our families have, the peace, the lack of wars between us, only goes so far as to keep ourselves in power. I’ll admit, it’s been lucrative, then and now. Horan Senior certainly knows how to grow an empire, but my father taught me to do the same.”

“Yours has grown through espionage, shady infiltration, coercion, and brute force.”

Harry kicks her ankle, shooting her a sharp look. She ignores him, stays focused solely on Ashton. He stares back coolly, unblinkingly, for a long minute. To her surprise, the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“I see you’ve heard of me. You aren’t wrong. Not really. Had to make my way up somehow, didn’t I?”

Aila rises to her feet in one graceful motion. She has no clue where this sudden confidence came from, but she clings to it. “If we’re here for a history lesson on your ‘company’, as you called it, then I think we’re done. I was under the impression this meeting was called for different reason. I really don’t like being lied to, Irwin.”

“Mm, feisty. Just like Horan to fall in love with someone who’s gorgeous and has such a smart mouth. No, sit, sit. I wanted to discuss a partnership.”

“’A partnership’?” she murmurs after a pregnant pause. “Between you and Niall?”

Ashton gestures toward her chair, remains silent. Aila sits again. “Yes. A partnership. A team. A chance to—what would you say, Mikey? Strengthen the truce between us. We’ll keep our own various holdings, obviously. I don’t trust your fiancé with financial aspects as far as I can throw him.”

“But?”

“But we’d work together under an umbrella of sorts. We’ve teamed up before, I’m sure we can again.”

Aila exchanges a look with Harry, wondering what the Hell Ashton is talking about. Niall has never mentioned working with the Irwins before. Harry shakes his head minutely—he knows what Ashton means. He won’t tell her. Not here.

“Continue,” she demands as she looks back at Ashton, and he grins knowingly.

“When we’re having difficulties procuring our gains, we’ll rely on Horan and his employees for help. Same goes for him. He asks, we help. We ask, he helps. We can give support when needed.”

Harry’s foot presses against hers, a steady pressure that keeps her grounded. She swallows thickly and muses over what Ashton said. Even without knowing the depth of the history, she can imagine how horrible it would be if they refuse this offer. If she refuses. She doesn’t doubt that Ashton does not take rejection well. Finally, she clears her throat.

“And what exactly do you propose? If everything is being kept separate, wouldn’t it be exactly as it is now? And what kind of support would you demand of us? We don’t exactly strong-arm those we watch over into obeying us.”

“Of course you don’t,” he says, voice far too mocking and sardonic for Aila’s liking. He rolls his eyes. “You can’t really be this naive. No one obtains loyalty without force.”

“Loyalty with force isn’t loyalty at all,” she counters. “What you’re talking about is a dictatorship. Niall doesn’t do that. He works hard to earn the trust of our people. Yes, sometimes there are consequences, I won’t deny that. I’m not quite ignorant enough to believe otherwise. But he is fair. He punishes only the ones who deserve it. So I’ll ask once more. What kind of support do you want?”

Ashton’s eyes gleam with something Aila can’t quite read. He leans forward in his seat and gives her a slow, humourless smile. “Nothing much. Just presence, really. See, our side? We don’t do the whole ‘hold hands and chant prayers and love and rainbows’ thing. We do whatever is necessary to maintain control. Hear about that barricade at the docks last August?”

She thinks back then gasps. Her stomach lurches, her breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. She remembers the news reports as hospitals all over Primden—all three sections—filled with dying patients. Doctors begging for medication and food that could have saved them all.

“That was you?” She blinks rapidly; she can’t cry. It’s weakness. “You realise there was important cargo on those ships, don’t you? People died in the thousands because of that barricade.”

Ashton shrugs without remorse. “I don’t care. They weren’t obeying, so I made them. Moving on. I’m certain those refugees Horan seems to care so much about? Victims running from their abusers? And the homeless he provides with warm food and shelter? We can help.

“I know Tomlinson supplies them with documentation. Styles here allocates funding to the shelters. Horan runs a tight ship with his charity,” Ashton spits out as if the word is poison on his tongue, “but we can help relieve some of the load on resources. We own the docks your precious food is delivered to. We can stop it from coming in again.”

“You’d do that? Simply because we say no?”

Ashton smirks and checks his watch. “Think about it, Miss Bride. Talk to your fiancé and send Davenport with the answer.”

“When do you want a response?” she asks against her better judgement. She should say ‘no’. Right now. Open her mouth and tell him to fuck off.

He stands, planting his knuckles against the tabletop, and raises a brow. “Sooner rather than later. If I don’t hear anything by the end of next weekend, I’ll assume you’re rejecting my very generous proposal, and we’ll all go back to being at odds with each other. And Miss Bride? I’m not this cuddly with people who actively work against me.”

Aila watches Ashton and his two-member entourage leave. The door screams in its track, and she blows out a breath before turning to Harry. “How’d I do?”

“I almost believed you weren’t terrified,” he murmurs as he pats her hand.

She can only hope Ashton believed the same.

[michaeljacksoncaptaineo]

Today in History

On January 26, 1984, Michael Jackson's hair caught on fire while filming a Pepsi commercial.

UPI:

JAN. 28, 1984

Michael Jackson hospitalized after fireworks mishap on set of Pepsi commercial

ByJEFF HASEN

LOS ANGELES -- Superstar Michael Jackson, hospitalized with burns from fireworks that ignited his hair during filming of a commercial, was quietly discharged from a hospital Saturday against his doctor's recommendation.

Dr. Steve Hoefflin said he believed it was best for Jackson to stay at Brotman Memorial Hospital, but reluctantly agreed to his release at 12:30 p.m. PST (3:30 p.m. EST). Hours earlier, he had told reporters Jackson would be hospitalized 'for several days.'

'We recommended that Michael stay, but we determined this could be done as well out of the hospital as in the hospital,' Hoefflin said. 'Despite our recommendation, he felt he did want to be treated as an outpatient.

'He was quite happy. He felt better after a good night's sleep. He's in excellent health and was showing very rapid signs of recovery. He's very pleased it was not more of a severe burn.'

Hoefflin said he did not know where Jackson planned to go.

Jackson, 25, was dancing down a stairway at the Shrine Auditorium Friday night in a scene for a multi-million dollar Pepsi commercial when a special effects smoke bomb apparently misfired and set his pomade-slicked hair ablaze.

Nurse Pat Lavalas, the burn unit supervisor, said Jackson was in good spirits Saturday morning and he received many telephone calls, including get-well wishes from singers Teddy Pendergrass and Stephanie Mills.

'He left in good spirits and his condition is good,' she said. 'He didn't speak about the accident to us. He watched 'American Bandstand' this morning and people were getting his autograph.

He sang a Stephanie Mills song in the bathroom. He stayed in bed and opened telegrams, and he got a big kick out of one from a fan that said, 'I know you're hot, but this is ridiculous,'' the nurse said.

Just hours before Jackson's secretive departure, Hoefflin told reporters the singer was in satisfactory condition with second-degree burns and a small third-degree burn on the back of his head.

'He's in moderate pain, he's much more tired than we anticipated. He needs sleep at this time,' Hoefflin told reporters at a hospital news conference.

He said Jackson may require reconstructive surgery.

Jackson, the country's top singer, won seven American Music Awards earlier this month and picked up a record 12 Grammy nominations. Hoefflin said Jackson will be able to attend the Feb. 28 Grammy presentations at the Shrine 'if he feels up to it.'

A spokesman for Jackson said the singer requested that a tape of the accident be made public as soon as the film can be processed.

'Michael wants to make certain that his fans know exactly what happened,' Larry Larson told reporters at the hospital.

Asked if Jackson was contemplating a lawsuit, he said, 'There's no indication at this point.'

Hospital officials said the medical center had been inundated with thousands of phone calls since Jackson arrived and a spokesman pleaded with the public to stop calling, saying emergency calls could not get through.

The singer's 'Thriller' album topped the music charts last year, placing an unprecedented six singles -- including 'Billie Jean' and 'Beat It' -- in the top 10 and spawning several popular videos.

The accident Friday night occurred before a horrified audience of about 3,000 people who won tickets to the taping from a local radio station.

One witness told United Press International that Jackson removed his jacket without breaking stride and tried to put out the fire.

'There was supposed to be an explosion for his big entrance,' Daryoush Maze, 25, an extra in the cast, said. 'As he went off, an explosion went off and there was blue smoke all around his head and neck. There were no flames, just blue smoke from the stuff he had in his hair.

'It seemed like it was part of the show. He was doing it very professionally, still dancing. He's a good trouper.'

About a block from Jackson's boyhood home, nearly 1,000 people clad in their Sunday best jammed into a small, stuffy basketball gym to hear the candidate speak.

After a church choir sang a few hymns, Jackson's mother, wearing a deep blue dress and a 'Jackson in '84' button, triumphantly introduced her son to the throng.

Jackson took the stage and led the audience in his familiar 'I am somebody' chant.

'Our mission is justice at home and peace abroad,' he told the townspeople. 'I've watched the growth of this city and this state and I see the need for more growth.

'We have the need this day to have a spirit of redemption and reconciliation -- to rise above historic divisions that have stunted our growth. This is a period for us to beat our swords into plowshares.'

Jackson spoke of Greenville as once being the textile capital of the world, and noted the slump in the industry today that has put thousands out of work.

He called for an end to the 'dislocation of the textile industry.'

'This generation must realize when a plant closes, it closes without notice. Men cannot feed their families; mothers cannot nourish their children. That kind of reckless economic conduct must challenge us to open a new economic order.'

Jackson also visited a small bar that sponsors a softball team Jackson played on during the 1960s.

The presidential hopeful was the team's starting first baseman.

'He's a long-ball hitter,' said Charles Chiles, a patron of the establishment who remembers Jackson's days on the softball field.

Jackson also climbed onto the fender of a brown Cadillac parked near the bar during the afternoon and urged about 200 onlookers to register to vote.

'You can help me and you can help yourself,' he said. 'If we register to vote our children will not have to grow up as we did. They can get jobs. They can develop and grow.

'We can not only hang around on the corner, we can own the corner.'

Moonwalk book page 235-238:

Later one of the doctors told me that it was a miracle I was alive. One of the firemen had mentioned that in most cases your clothes catch on fire in which case the whole face can be disfigured or you can die. That’s it. I third-degree burns On the back of my head that’s Almost went through to my skull, so we had a lot of the problems with it, But I was very lucky.

What we now know is that the incident created a lot of publicity for the commercial. They sold more Pepsi than ever before. And they came back to me later and offered me the biggest commercial endorsement Fee in history. It was so unprecedented But it went into The Guinness Book of World Records. Pepsi and I worked together on another Commercial called” The Kid”, And I gave them problems by limiting the shots of me because I felt the shots they were asking for didn’t work well. Later, when the commercial was a success, he told me I had been right.

I still remember how scared those Pepsi excuses looked the night of the fire. They thought that my getting burned would leave a bad taste in the mouth every kid in America who drank Pepsi. They knew I could have sued him and I could have. But I was real nice about it. Real nice. They gave me $1,500,000 Which I immediately donated to the Michael Jackson Burn Center. I wanted to do something because I was so moved By the other burn patient I met while I was in the hospital.

“ I have a plan to spend most of 1984 working on some movie ideas we had, But those plans got sidetracked. First, in January, I Was burned On the set of a Pepsi commercial I was shooting with my brothers.

The reason for the fire stupidity, pure and simple. We were shooting tonight and I Wassupposed To come down a staircase yes magnesium flash bombs Going off on either side of me and just behind me. It seemed so simple. I wanted to walk down the stairs and these bombs Would blow up. We did several takes that were wonderfully timed. The lighting effects from the bombs were great. Only later did I find out that these bombs Were only two feet away from either side of my head, which was a total Disregard of the safety regulations. I was supposed to stand in the middle of a magnesium explosion, two feet on either side.

Then Bob Giraldi, the director, Came to me and said, “ Michael, you are going down too early. We want To see you up there, up on the stairs. When the lights come on, we want to reveal that you’re there, so wait”

So I waited, the bombs went off on either side of my head, and the sparks set My hair on fire. I was dancing down the ramp and turning around, spinning not knowing I was on fire. Suddenly I filled my hands reflexively going to my head In an attempt to smother the flames. Are you feeling down and just tried to shake the Flames out. Jermaine Turned around and saw me on the ground, Just after the explosions had gone off, and he thought I was shot be someone In the crowd — ‏because we were shooting In front of a big audience. That what I looked like to him.

Miko Brando , Who works for me, was the first person to reach me. After that, it was clhaos. It was crazy. No for me could probably capture The drama of what went on That night. The crowd was screaming. Someone shouted, “ Get some ice! “ There were fantic running sounds. People were yelling,” Oh no!”. The emergency truck came up And before they Put me in Isow the Pepsi excutives huddled together in a corner, looking terrified. I remember the medical people putting me on a cot And the guys from Pepsi were so scared They couldn’t

even bring themselves to check on me.

Meanwhile, I was kind of detached, despite the terrible pain, I was watching all the drama unfold. Later they told me, I was in shock, but I remember enjoying the ride to the hospital because I never thought I’d ride in an ambulance with the sirens wailing. It was one of those things I had always wanted to do when I was growing up. We got there, They told me there news crews Outside, so I asked for my glove. There’s a famous shot one waving from the stretcher with my glove on. hooting tonight and I Wassupposed To come down a staircase yes magnesium flash bombs Going off on either side of me and just behind me. It seemed so simple. I wanted to walk down the stairs and these bombs Would blow up. We did several takes that were wonderfully timed. The lighting effects from the bombs were great. Only later did I find out that these bombs Were only two feet away from either side of my head, which was a total Disregard of the safety regulations. I was supposed to stand in the middle of a magnesium explosion, two feet on either side.

Then Bob Giraldi, the director, Came to me and said, “ Michael, you are going down too early. We want To see you up there, up on the stairs. When the lights come on, we want to reveal that you’re there, so wait”

So I waited, the bombs went off on either side of my head, and the sparks set My hair on fire. I was dancing down the ramp and turning around, spinning not knowing I was on fire. Suddenly I filled my hands reflexively going to my head In an attempt to smother the flames. Are you feeling down and just tried to shake the Flames out. Jermaine Turned around and saw me on the ground, Just after the explosions had gone off, and he thought I was shot be someone In the crowd — ‏because we were shooting In front of a big audience. That what I looked like to him.

Miko Brando , Who works for me, was the first person to reach me. After that, it was clhaos. It was crazy. No for me could probably capture The drama of what went on That night. The crowd was screaming. Someone shouted, “ Get some ice! “ There were fantic running sounds. People were yelling,” Oh no!”. The emergency truck came up And before they Put me in Isow the Pepsi excutives huddled together in a corner, looking terrified. I remember the medical people putting me on a cot And the guys from Pepsi were so scared They couldn’t

even bring themselves to check on me.

Meanwhile, I was kind of detached, despite the terrible pain, I was watching all the drama unfold. Later they told me, I was in shock, but I remember enjoying the ride to the hospital because I never thought I’d ride in an ambulance with the sirens wailing. It was one of those things I had always wanted to do when I was growing up. We got there, They told me there news crews Outside, so I asked for my glove. There’s a famous shot one waving from the stretcher with my glove on.

https://youtu.be/DkMNn7TA0pg

[nobodyfamousposts]

Felix Month - Bad Luck (Felix Culpa)

@felixmonth​

Hope nobody minds if I do these out of order.

So, by special request...

Seven is supposed to be a lucky number.

But it was the seventh time he’d been able to meet his friends for a group outing and yet again, Marinette wasn’t there.

He’d been getting worried, since she had seemed more distant lately. When he talked to the others about it, their responses varied. Some of them waved it off as just “Marinette being Marinette”. Others seemed a bit worried as well. Alya in particular had been grumbling about her best friend bailing on yet another hang out. And even Nino commented on how much less they’d been seeing her lately.

It hurt.

He knew she was having difficulties lately. Marinette always seemed so busy and overworked. He half wondered if he couldn’t lend her aid somehow. Like help her with time management. Or maybe ask Nathalie to make a schedule for her!

Not that she would likely take that well, now that he thought about it. But still…

Marinette was clearly overwhelmed with all the projects she’s taken on. Especially if they were keeping her from being able to spend time with her friends or just relax. Honestly, he was getting worried about her.

So were the others. He’d spoken with Alya and Nino. And even the members of Kitty Section. They all had mentioned not seeing Marinette much lately. And particularly worrisome was this continuing trend where she would agree to meet up with them somewhere to hang out only to never make it. It was disheartening, and some of the others had given up on inviting her out because of it.

But not Adrien. He cared about all of his friends and Marinette in particular was very dear to him.

It was this latest time when he tried talking to his friends about Marinette’s whereabouts when Lila happened to overhear their conversation and chose to interject.

“Well, she probably ran off with Felix again.”

Adrien froze. “What?”

Lila gasped and covered her mouth, as if she hadn’t intended to reveal that.

She totally did.

“I’m so sorry!” She falsely apologized. “I didn’t mean to suggest anything untoward between them!”

She smiled sweetly and started to speak lowly, as if sharing a secret. “It’s just that I’ve been seeing her hanging around a lot with Felix nowadays. Given everything, it’s almost as if she prefers his company.” She looked away, giving the appearance of looking concerned. “They seem to be awfully close lately, don’t they? It just seems like Marinette has been looking for any reason to be around him.”

Adrien’s smile became more strained. “I’m sure that’s not the case.”

It couldn’t be the case. Because Marinette like making friends, but she certainly wouldn’t just up and abandon them all like that.

Lila frowned, appearing put off at his reaction. He wasn’t sure why, but it did make him question what her intention was.

“Well, if you want to find one, you only need to find the other.” She told him, almost teasingly. As if she knew exactly what she was saying and the implications.

Adrien...was trying very hard not to think about it.

If Marinette was distancing herself from them for Felix...

He felt a pang in his heart at that.

But…Lila lied.

Maybe she was lying about this, too? Or maybe she simply misunderstood. It wasn’t like Marinette would be the type to abandon her friends just to spend time with Felix.

That’s what he kept trying to tell himself. After he left the group. When he entered the school. As he made his way through the courtyard. Until he heard a familiar voice and couldn’t stop himself from turning to look, and in doing so, he felt his stomach sink.

Because there she was.

With Felix.

Always with Felix now.

Just as Lila had said. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, it was...seeming only more truth. It was like she didn’t have time for the rest of them anymore. She was regularly missing get-togethers and didn’t seem to want to be around them as much anymore. But somehow, someway, she always found time for him.

Didn’t she like them?

Didn’t she trust them?

A lot had been happening lately, he knew. But for all that Adrien tried to support her and keep the peace, it felt as though Marinette was slipping away. And to his consternation, nothing he tried seemed to help.

She only ever seemed to want to be around Felix.

…

In fact, a lot of the changes and troubling signs seemed to be directly tied to the other boy. Before, everything seemed fine. But since he showed up…

It was like Marinette wanted nothing to do with them anymore. Or with him.

Adrien rubbed his chest where he felt a twinge of heartache as he watched the way she smiled at the other boy.

Was this what it was like to be losing a friend?

What would happen? What would it be like without Marinette around? Not seeing her. Not getting to talk to her. No more video games. No croissants or random pastry days. No movies or hangouts.

An image came to mind, one that was all too familiar. Of him. Alone. Missing someone who left without a trace before he could even get a chance to say goodbye. With no idea where she was or what happened to her. And this time with only only a lucky charm to remember her by.

He winced.

No.

He couldn’t lose her.

He needed to talk to her.

Adrien wouldn’t just give up on a friend.

___________________________

When Felix returned to the classroom, it was to find it empty of anyone else and all belongings still in pace.

“Thank goodness.” He muttered to himself as he went up the steps to his shared desk with Marinette to retrieve the sketchbook she had asked him for. He gave a quick glance through and was pleased to find it was the correct one, filled to the brim with costume designs of older period clothing, armored knights, and a princess gown. All thankfully unmarred during their absence. With the way things had been going lately, he had half expected something to have torn or damaged it.

At least SOMETHING was going right for once. Felix wasn’t one to believe in luck, but he might have considered this to be a sign of of his fortune changing. Of course, he wasn’t that lucky.

It had...not been the easiest of days. Or weeks for that matter.

The play was more stress than he realized. Taking on an assistant managerial position had probably not been one of his better moves, but…no, there was no “but”. It was a lapse in judgement on his part and he was still kicking himself for accepting the role.

The script was, to be honest, a mess. He’d had to edit and rewrite a few of the scenes just to deal with some of the errors or glaring issues. The set designs were horrendous to look at—and whose bright idea had it been to let Raincomprix get the paint supplies? Anyone should have been able to tell that was a mistake when she was always at Bourgeois’s beck and call, especially when Bourgeois was still upset about not getting the part she wanted. At least the members of the art club were involved. Marc was willing to look at the script and iron out the writing while Alix and Nathaniel both stepped up with extra supplies to make a set that was at least satisfactory for the production. So a couple of crises were averted, even if there were still other fires he was constantly putting out. There was a lingering feeling of paranoia, however, which wasn’t helped by the way Rossi was hanging out the set up areas more than she had any reason to be. He tried to keep an eye on her as much as possible, but there was only so much attention he could afford to waste on her when he had so much else to do.

Marinette had been a great help throughout it all. She had been working on the costumes, so at least he could rest easy that this was one thing that was actually going well. But while her designing and crafting was unparalleled, her acting needed work. She was a mess around Agreste even under normal circumstances and Felix had doubts about her ability to perform once with him on stage. When he was practicing with her alone, she seemed fine, but knowing her previous antics with the other boy, he was still worried.

Then there were…other issues of concern. She had been pouring her all into the performance—more than she should, if he was being honest. She’d been spending more time alone lately. And though he didn’t pry, he still expressed concern. The things she’d told him…were infuriating, to say the least. Her “friends” cancelling on her last minute or giving her the wrong times or locations for meet-ups, only to come in talking about it the next day like they hadn’t intentionally left her out.

He couldn’t fix that. She didn’t want him to, for all that she cried her tears over the matter. It seemed having something to focus on and at least one person willing to stay by her helped. If it was all she needed, Felix found little trouble allowing himself to be available, even if it was nothing more than someone to share a desk with while she worked. It allowed him to give more input on some of her designs and for the two of them to coordinate on the play and the stress of their roles, at any rate.

Having someone to talk to and vent with was…nice.

The time they spent together was…pleasant.

And despite himself, Felix found himself enjoying her company.

Whether happy or sad, whether talking or in silence, he didn’t mind her presence. And she in turn seemed to appreciate his. They had been spending their free time together, discussing the play, schoolwork, home obligations, or just anything that comes to mind. Alternatively, there were the times they sat together in silence, each working on their own projects, only making comments when necessary.

It was a nice way to get his mind off things. A distraction from the daily doldrum. He had a lot on his plate as it was even under normal circumstances. But with the play and the situation with Marinette and their classmates, he had been feeling more stressed.

…

Then there was also the matter of Rossi in particular. And that was one headache he wanted to not bother with right now, for all that he knew he couldn’t afford to ignore it.

The Italian girl had been a consistent thorn in his side since that first disastrous day he was forced to make her acquaintance. His hopes that she would decide to ignore him have yet to come to fruition as she continued her attempts to worm her way into more of Felix’s life. Not that he understood why since he had made it clear he would not encourage her delusions and he was certain that she was more interested in attempting to pursue Agreste anyway. He had thought that the other model would be enough to keep her attention since she was aware he knew her lies for what they were and yet saw fit to enable her regardless. But to his annoyance, it seemed the liar could multitask and was intent on covering her bases. The fact that he didn’t want to be one of said bases seemed entirely lost on her.

It seemed she saw fit to try to infringe on his life outside of school as well as in it. He was getting notice from acquaintances and staff he worked with about the girl trying to make appearances in places where he knew she should not be. Modeling jobs, meetings, outside activities. Things he wished he could attribute to Agreste but knew with unsettling certainty that there was more to it. He was only fortunate that he had managed to prevent her from making contact with his parents. That was a disaster waiting to happen.

Felix half wondered if the girl wasn’t trying to build herself a harem. Or just liked having the idea of a backup in case Agreste ended up with someone else...or if she got bored with him.

It was fully possible. Likely, even. Felix had concerns about the way Rossi almost seemed more...lively when faced with someone who didn’t believe her. Either she enjoyed the challenge or she had a compulsive need to break anything she didn’t have, either of which was worrisome.

He had hoped his general personality would be off-putting enough to dissuade her interest. But looking into things, it seemed that Rossi has something of a ‘history’. One that left a trail of tears, broken promises, shattered dreams, and decimated relationships in her wake. She had all the makings of a serial killer, only she didn’t like to get her hands dirty and tended to target people on a much more personal level to cause them to destroy themselves. Ruined lives, discredited schools, and entire communities torn apart wherever she goes only to conveniently have to move just in time to avoid any fallout herself. Then rinse and repeat. His research into her past was...very informative. He had an entire file about it by this point.

Part of him was tempted to pass this file off to Cesaire just to see her reaction—or rather he would be if he wasn’t already certain she would only dismiss it out of hand.

A pity.

But it only furthered his paranoia about the matter. Especially concerning her targeting of Marinette, who had only made herself an enemy by directly challenging her. Not that it would have made a difference if she hadn’t from what Felix observed. Rossi had an MO, and was prone to targeting people who were competition, regardless of whether the target even knew or cared.

And Marinette, whether she knew it or not, was competition. Popular, kind, accomplished. If anyone could have outshone Rossi, it would be her. He had little doubt that if Marinette hadn’t known and refuse to go along with her plans, Rossi would have tried to ride off her coattails while also slowly sabotaging her.

She had done it before.

Marinette may not been fooled, but Rossi has been given just enough time to build her influence enough over others in her general area. She wasn’t content with just that, of course. And for all that Felix tried, it was taking too much of his time as it was just to try to block her from spreading her influence to anyone truly dangerous. And that was only as far as he knew and could redirect.

Which was certainly not helping his paranoia. Or his stress.

So it was understandable that he really REALLY didn’t have the patience to deal with a sudden confrontation with Agreste.

“Oh, hello Felix!”

“Agreste.” He answered back, distractedly as he picked up the sketchbook. He needed to get back to the theater so Marinette could start prepping.

“What are you doing with Marinette’s design book?”

“She left it behind when we went to the theater area and she asked me to come and grab it for her.”

Agreste brightened at that as if struck with a brilliant idea. “How about I take it to her then?”

“Hmm?” Felix asked, barely paying attention.

“I mean, you’re so busy. I can save you the trip. I need to talk to Marinette anyway, so this works out for both of us!”

“I have already told her I would.”

“I’m sure you have other things to do.” Adrien replied with an all-too-bright smile as he attempted to pull the book out of his hand.

Felix’s eyes narrowed as his grip on the sketchbook tightened.

As if he was going to trust Adrien Agreste with something like this. Knowing him, the fool would probably show it off to others who don’t need to see it—Bourgeois, Rossi, or some other designer who could either destroy the book or claim ‘inspiration’ from the designs.

“I can handle it, thank you.” Felix replied, trying to pull the book back.

But Agreste’s hand remained firm, and surprisingly stable for a teen of his frame. Felix looked up in confusion only to be met with a hard and very determined stare.

“I insist.”

Felix raised an eyebrow.

This was new.

Normally, Felix would be content to ignore him and go about his business, but Agreste was being particularly stubborn today.

Unfortunately, as his bad luck would have it, this was the day Agreste finally decided to stand up for himself. Also unfortunately, the one he was choosing to get out of his comfort zone to stand up to was Felix.

Any other time, he might have been impressed. Any other time. But Felix had not been having a good week to begin with, was not in the best of moods, and for all that he normally tried to stay out of personal conflicts with his peers, he had been repeatedly dragged into some sort of drama he honestly knew nothing about. The classmates had been giving him darker looks lately, and while he was content to ignore them, there was an increasing tension in the class that was starting to wear on him. He wasn’t sure what it was, though given how they had been treating Marinette lately, he had a good guess.

Rossi’s manipulations at work, no doubt.

And this may very well be part of it, as well.

Felix frowned. “If you need to talk to her, surely you can do so at any time.”

Agreste only frowned back in response. “That’s a little hard if you’re always there.”

He blinked at that. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you think you’ve been taking up a lot of Marinette’s time lately?”

That made him freeze.

“What?”

“It’s just...Marinette hasn’t been spending as much time with her friends lately, and we’re all a bit concerned.”

...What?

“She’s been getting rather distant and we just want to look out for her. I’m sure whatever’s been pulling her away can be fixed if we can talk this out.”

He wasn’t actually…

Agreste smiled brightly. “So if it’s all right, I’d like to take this to her and have the chance to talk to her a little.”

That made logical functioning return with one resounding thought:

Hell no.

Within a second, he glanced over Agreste’s form and already knew everything he needed to know. The boy was smiling, but he wasn’t happy. He was tense and defensive. He seemed to be leaning forward in a way akin to trying to cover the sketchbook, almost as if he was trying to defend it—and by extension, Marinette. The problem was that his gaze, his posture, his position...it was clear the only one he was trying to defend anything from was Felix.

And that brought back his irritation tenfold.

Felix had never trusted Agreste in the first place. And everything he had seen since that initial meeting only helped to further cement that stance.

Agreste was almost like a puppy. Innocent, unassuming, and completely oblivious to any damage he caused around him. His idealistic view of the world would be endearing if it wasn’t so harmful to everyone around him. As it stood, Adrien’s naivety and expectations were downright infuriating.

And he wanted to protect Marinette from him? Like Felix was the one of the two of them who was the actual threat to her? When Agreste could break her heart with a word and not even notice?

Felix only found his ire growing.

“It’s no wonder that your career is a model because standing by and doing nothing is practically all you’re good at.”

Agreste balked.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

That only seemed to upset Agreste more as he bristled and increased his grip on the sketchbook. “No, you need to back off. You’re the one who’s been alienating her from her friends and keeping her to yourself.”

Felix almost growled. “I’ve only been keeping her company while her so-called ‘friends’ ditch her.”

He could see the rage in the other boy’s expression. Interesting, as he had never seen Agreste look so angry before.

“Is that what you’ve been telling her?” He demanded. “That we don’t want her around?”

Felix’s eyes flashed at that. “I haven’t had to say anything. You’re the ones who have been jerking her around.”

“Jerking her around?!”

“Well, what would you call it then?” He demanded. “When your group invites her places only to cancel and then come in the next day raving about how ‘awesome’ the event they kept her out of was? Or when she’s given the wrong information so she constantly misses out? Is it any wonder she’d give up?”

Agreste shook his head, furious. “We’ve never done that! That sounds like the sort of thing you’d make up just to have an excuse!”

Of all the stupid...really? Was that the best he could come up with?

Felix was honestly beyond caring by this point. He had a schedule to keep and a friend in need of her designs.

“I don’t have time for this.”

Agreste glared. “Funny, you seem to have all the time in the world when it comes to stealing our friend.”

Stealing? STEALING? He was speaking as though Marinette were something to take! Like her time wasn’t something she happily shared as long as those involved actually wanted her to.

And that was just it, wasn’t it? They didn’t want her. He’d seen the texts. He’d seen the look of disappointment on her face each time she learned they had left her out again. He’d listened to her frustrations of being misled and lied to by her own friends.

All while Agreste—perfect little can do no wrong Adrien Agreste did nothing. And yet here he was, trying to play the hero? Like he hadn’t let this happen? Whether it was by allowing Rossi to lie or by doing nothing to include Marinette himself, Agreste LET this happen.

And most of all, it infuriated him that Agreste was blaming him for issues in a friendship he hadn’t yet lost and wasn’t doing anything to try to keep.

If Agreste cared—if he really cared so damn much, why hadn’t he done more? Why hadn’t he reached out to Marinette on his own? Why hadn’t he stood up for her any of the times she needed him? Why had he done nothing before now? When Marinette was finally starting to move forward and gain at least some peace of mind?

“I can’t steal something you’ve thrown away.”

“I haven’t!” Agreste hissed out. “I’m just trying to look out for my friends! She doesn’t need someone like you corrupting her!”

Was he serious?

Felix already knew. He’d known since that first day. Agreste was weak. No, even more than that! He was an ignorant—

—close minded—

—pretentious—

—stuck up—

—self-righteous—

—arrogant—

—petulant—

—jerk who only upset everyone around him—

—fool who was only a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to call him a friend—

—he shouldn’t even be here if he hates it so much—

—no business being anywhere near Marinette after the stunts he’s pulled—

—trying to hoard Marinette to himself—

—only exposing her to more harm—

—making Marinette distant—

—making Marinette sad—

—keeping everyone else away from her—

—putting all of the burden on her—

—I wish he would just—

—if only he would—

—disappear!

He was drowning too much in his anger to notice the flapping of wings or the feeling of a weight that settled in the book he held. By the time the light flickered over his eyes and he felt the intrusion into his head, he was hardly concerned.

“Battle Royal, I am Hawk Moth.” A voice—a point of calm in the storm of his mind echoed his thoughts. “You wish to protect the one dear to you from those who would cause her harm. I can grant you that power. All I ask for in exchange are the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Felix hesitated.

He should say no.

There was...a reason he was supposed to say no...wasn’t there?

But in that moment, he was stressed, distressed, and couldn’t focus past his anger. There were too many threats. Too many people seeking to harm himself and Marinette. And it was just getting too much to watch out for them all.

This...sounded like a perfect deal. Why refuse it?

“I accept.”

It was only after he said it that Felix realized he hadn’t been the only one to speak. His gaze snapped over to an enraged Agreste bearing a butterfly insignia all too similar to himself just as his eyes widened in shock as well. The boys had only just realized the implications when the wave of black overtook them both.

[the-desolated-quill]

It’s Summer And We’re Running Out Of Ice - Watchmen (TV Series) blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. if you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

I’m not going to lie. I was incredibly sceptical going into this. This isn’t the first TV adaptation of a classic novel to go beyond the source material and try to continue the story, and they nearly always suck (see The Handmaid’s Tale and The Man In The High Castle). There’s a reason why books end where they’re supposed to end. If the author intended to carry the story on, they would have done so. This is why I get angry when the TV industry arrogantly oversteps the mark and try to continue a plot that has already come to a satisfactory conclusion. Doing a sequel to Watchmen, a story that hinges on the ambiguity of its ending, is just utter madness to me, and allowing Damon Lindelof to write that sequel borders on moronic at first glance. This is the man behind the TV series Lost, a show that ran out of steam within the first couple of episodes due to the fact that the plot was complete and total bollocks and the fact that nobody could be bothered to come up with satisfying answers for these ludicrous mysteries and series arcs beforehand. They were just making that shit up as he went along. Now you’re handing Lindelof the keys to one of the most intricate and detailed comic book properties of all time?! Fuck, why don’t you just let JJ Abrams direct the next Star Wars mo- Oh yeah, I forgot, he already did that.

Thankfully, judging by this first episode anyway, HBO’s Watchmen is nowhere near as bad as Lost. It’s certainly far more engaging and coherent. Does that mean I’m looking forward to the rest of this season? Well... I don’t know if I’d go that far. I’m definitely intrigued though.

HBO’s Watchmen is a sequel to the graphic novel (Lindelof called it a remix, but come on. Grow a pair and call it what it is. A sequel). Superheroes are still illegal, Robert Redford is now the President, Rorschach’s death has inspired a white supremacist cult, and it’s raining squid.

Yeah, the raining squid thing feels like the only egregious bit of fanwank in here, to be fair. Maybe they’re going somewhere with this, but I have my doubts. Are we supposed to assume that Ozymandias has been making squid rain for the past thirty odd years in order to keep up the whole alien invasion ruse? Why squid rain? And why is everyone so nonchalant about it? Shouldn’t people be just a bit concerned by this, considering what happened in New York?

Speaking of Ozymandias, we see him riding a horse and writing plays for his butler and maid in some fancy mansion. Quite what the significance of The Watchmaker’s Son is, I don’t know. All I do know is I’m not going to be able to sleep at night without thinking about Jeremy Irons’ thighs from now on, so thanks for that.

Putting my cynicism aside for a moment, I do like what Lindelof is trying to do here. He’s not merely cashing in on the Watchmen brand. There is a genuine effort to do something fresh and different with this material, and I commend that. Watchmen’s central theme has always been about power, but whereas the source material focused mainly on its relation to sex (Comedian’s hedonism, Nite Owl’s impotence, Rorschach’s mummy issues and the sexual objectification of Silk Spectre), the TV series seems to be zeroing in on race as a topic. This I applaud. Expanding on certain areas that the graphic novel only ever really touched upon is a great idea. This doesn’t feel like a repeat of the graphic novel, but rather a clarification of it, exploring areas and themes that Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons may have overlooked. This helps set this series apart from the outset. 

The opening scenes where we see the Tulsa Massacre of 1921 is a pretty harrowing way to start. I’m ashamed to say I had no idea about the Tulsa Massacre prior to this, and we could have a whole other discussion about why schools seem to have been avoiding teaching specific topics like this in favour of the broad strokes of the Jim Crow era, but now is not the time. The fact that it’s depicted here sets the stage for what’s to come. Some have criticised the show for the length of time the opening focuses on Tulsa, claiming that it sensationalises the pain of black people at that time. I personally don’t think it does. It’s not overly graphic or gratuitous, at least in my opinion, but it is a very shocking way to open a series. Some might say even upsetting, but I think it’s important that we saw this because it’s relevant in setting the tone for the episode and indeed the season as a whole, as well as letting the audience know that this show isn’t going to fuck around or shy away from more sensitive topics, and I can respect that. Unlike Zack Snyder’s overly stylised adaptation from 2009, Watchmen the HBO series is grounded very firmly in reality.

Let’s discuss characters. This episode mostly focuses on Angela Abar, also known as Sister Night. Regina King has given some terrific performances in the past and this is no exception. She’s simply phenomenal. The way she switches from light-hearted wife and baker to violent, no nonsense vigilante cop. The shift is noticeable and yet both personas feel like they’re aspects of the same character. It’s exceptionally good. It also helps that the character herself makes for a great protagonist. Having survived the ‘White Night’ four years prior, where the Seventh Kavalry attacked the families of forty Tulsa police officers in response to the government giving special reparations to the victims of racial injustice, Angela has become cynical and battle hardened. She has no sympathy for Kavlary members and is willing to skip due process by beating one of them to a pulp and bundling him in the back of her car. She’s angry and in pain, and yet retains the audience's sympathy. I’m interested to see what happens to her over the course of the season.

I also really liked her friendship with Don Johnson’s character Judd Crawford. Johnson is a charismatic performer and Crawford is a charismatic character. He really dives into the olde western sheriff persona and seems to be having a lot of fun with it. Crawford is the only other character, besides Angela, who stayed on as a police officer after the White Night, and the two characters seem to have a great relationship. They laugh and joke around and there’s clearly a mutual respect between the two. I genuinely like this character, which is what makes his murder at the end so much more heartbreaking. Not to mention all the little details that force us to realise he may not be what he seems. We see him sniff cocaine in private and there’s a photo on his desk featuring the kid from school who aggressively asked Angela why black people deserve reparations. It doesn’t necessarily mean that Crawford himself is racist, but there’s clearly more going on with him that we don’t know about.

The final character of interest at the moment is Tim Blake Nelson’s character Wade Tillman, aka Looking Glass. We don’t know anything about him yet other than he’s a human lie detector, which I find very intriguing and I hope will be explored further as the show goes on. There’s a lot to play around with there, and the moral implications are tantalising. A conviction based not on physical evidence, but rather on the observations of one man. Even Sherlock Holmes has to back his deductions up with evidence, and yet Looking Glass clearly doesn’t need to. That just raises so many ethical questions. What if he has a particular bias towards someone? What about burden of proof? What if forensic evidence contradicts him? If Looking Glass is supposedly that accurate, does that mean the police will side with him regardless? It’s a great premise for a character and I really like Nelson’s performance, giving him a cold and detached personality that contrasts beautifully with Angela’s.

The characters and ideas are solid, however where I feel the show is lacking is with the consistency of its world building. Let’s analyse. This is an alternate history where Nixon used superheroes to extend his term limits, but after the New York attack at the end of the graphic novel, he’s been kicked out in favour of Robert Redford (nice nod to the source material there by the way. lol). As a result, black people got reparations for the racial injustices their ancestors went through and police are now unable to openly carry firearms without special permission from Panda (literally a cop wearing a panda costume). However, after the events of White Night, the government agrees to allow cops to wear masks to protect their identities, hence why quote/unquote ‘superheroes’ like Sister Night and Looking Glass are around despite the existence of the Keene Act. These are, in effect, legal vigilantes. Except already there’s a problem with conflicting messages. I like the idea of masked cops. In the current age of Black Lives Matter and police accountability, it makes sense and could be interesting to explore. However this is hindered by the whole ‘no guns’ stuff. Again, not a bad idea. America’s current gun laws are, to put it mildly, woefully inadequate. What if we went the other way? What if not only was it near impossible to own a gun, cops couldn’t even use a taser without special permission. Both ideas could work... but not at the same time.

Cops being allowed to wear masks creates the effect of empowering them through anonymity, and runs the risk of officers overstepping the mark and normal citizens being unable to hold them to account. But on the other hand, we’ve also got cops whose lives are constantly at risk and who are hindered in their duties by an overprotective nanny state, which effectively depowers them. So... which is it? It can’t be both. I like the scene where Panda reads the law about how the use of firearms can only be permitted in extreme circumstances, and everyone just angrily shouts him down because it tells us how the police feel about this new system. The fact that they’ve made one cop the sole arbiter of these new restrictions and forced him to dress like some ridiculous furry demonstrates the sheer amount of disdain they have towards this policy. But having said that, with the masks on, they have the power and freedom to break into people’s caravans and basically kidnap and assault them without consequence anyway. So what the fuck are they complaining about? It just doesn’t gel together. Either have it that the rules and regulations of the police are the same as our world except that cops can wear masks now, which has led to an increasing problem of police brutality and corruption, or have it that the police are being too heavily restricted and so a few have chosen to turn toward more ‘unorthodox’ methods of crime fighting out of frustration. Pick one and go with it.

Then there’s the Seventh Kavalry. Again, not a bad idea. In fact I love it. A white supremacist cult that’s taken Rorschach’s journal as gospel and have banded together out of a fear of being sidelined in a more liberal world. Very relevant and very interesting. Except... well... there’s not an awful lot to it, is there? In the original graphic novel, there was no clear bad guy. Ozymandias believed he was doing the ultimate good by killing millions of people to save the world, and everyone reluctantly went along with it. It was morally complicated. This, not so much. They’re unambiguously evil. The end. So what? What is there to discuss? It just feels lacking compared to the graphic novel and it runs the risk of creating a conflict that’s too clear cut. Obviously we’re going to end up siding with the cops, regardless of what they do, because the alternative is objectively bad. Hopefully Lindelof is going somewhere with this, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t say I was slightly concerned.

So on the whole, would I say I enjoyed this first episode? Well... I’d say I did, but with reservations. There’s some good characters and ideas that could be interesting to explore and develop, but its execution feels a little shaky in places. Hopefully the episodes to come will offer further clarity.

[golddaggers]

baby pictures

pairing: thor x female!reader

warnings: slight mentions of smut and a looooooot of fluff. srsly

a/n: anon, i’m not sure it’s quite like you imagined, i kind of went along with the plot and added some stuff. i still hope you like it. :) 

later addition: forgot to add the translation to some old norse words haha. well “mín dróttning” means “my queen” and “sváss” means “beloved one, sweetie”. and dearling is the old spelling of “darling”, it’s not a goof. well. now it’s explained. 

word count: 2,1k+

It had been six months since Thor asked you to join him in his stay at Asgard, six months of living in pure bliss. Most of the days you had to force yourself to believe it was really true, that you were there with him after all. Waking up to his warm body wrapped around yours so tightly you sometimes had to elbow him to loosen up a little. Waking up to the light, rhythmic snoring and the smell intoxicating you.

There was no single doubt in your mind that being married to that man is everything you want. To give him children and watch those electric blue eyes shine with excitement. He will be such a great dad when the time comes.

With a smile, you wrap yourself in a silk robe and goes to the dining saloon, finding Frigga eating breakfast by herself, which was not an unusual sight.

Often the two of you would be stuck together when both Odin and Thor were called up elsewhere to battle in the name of Asgard. In the beginning, it wasn't so great to be around her. Frigga certainly wasn't pleased with her son's choice, she thought he could much better than a Midgardian, a plebeian. Sif was her obvious choice, she'd spend hours emphasising how great she was. How beautiful. Strong. Fit for a future king.

It had made you feel so little and meaningless, you'd smile and dismiss yourself to your room. Only inside you allowed yourself to cry, your insides sadly agreeing with her. Yes. Thor would be much better with someone like him, someone fit for a future king. And it wasn't you.

The memories stung, you reminiscing on the night he finally found out what his mother was doing. Thor had grown very mad, cheeks bright red in anger.

"My love, why haven't you told me?"

"I-I didn't think it mattered." Your voice is barely a whisper, tears staining your cheeks. "She's your mother, Thor. She only wishes you the best."

His eyes were narrowed, thick arms crossed tightly against his broad chest. It was a sight that would leave anyone trembling in their knees, scared of this man's wrath. Not you though, you could only think that he looked absurdly cute when he was angry. You just wanted to run your fingers through his hair while kissing that adorable pout, the pink bottom lip puckering forward.

A gentle sigh pushed past your lips as you opened your arms to hug him. If anything, you didn't want him to be angry at his mum. He had an adoration for her she had no wishes to destroy, that was why she hadn't said anything. There were so many more things for him to worry about than the petty way of his mother to treat you.

"I am going to speak to her."

"No, baby, you don't have to. It's nothing. So what if she thinks you should marry someone else? She's in her right to want the best partner for you."

"You are it." Although it was meant to be a quiet whisper, Thor's deep, loud voice certainly made itself heard. "You are the best partner for me. I love you, little bird, and I am not allowing my mother to make you think otherwise."

He was crouched forward, his face buried in the crook of your neck, the thick beard bristling the skin. You shivered when his lips found the soft spot slightly below your ear, nibbling at it lightly. Large hands gripping on your hips, heat radiating from his body to yours. You wanted to stay inside his arms forever.

That night he made love to you with so much tenderness, so much care. Thor has never failed at making you feel wanted, whether it was when he pushed you against the door because he couldn’t wait to be inside you or when he spread your legs wide, tasting you at leisure. It was a mad, blinding love. One you wanted to drown in it.

Despite your request for him to keep this between the two of you, he spoke to his mother the day after, while you were still asleep. To this day you’re not quite sure what he said to her, but she hasn’t been anything other than nice to you ever since, always chatting about Thor’s childhood, how this little blond boy grew up to be a warrior, so strong and fearless. She talked about how overprotective he was with her, always ensuring she was okay. You absolutely adored these conversations.

Once the awkwardness was gone, Frigga turned out to be the loveliest woman. She was kind to you and by her blue eyes, ones that looked exactly like Thor’s, you could tell she was actually being sincere. You’d laugh together, have meals together. Finally, she became the mother-in-law you were expecting when you first arrived.

And she had been for the last four months, making you feel much more at home each day.

“Good morning, dearling.” The tall, beautiful woman said, putting down the cup of tea she was having. “I take you had a good night of sleep?”

“Yes. Yes, I had, thank you.”  You smile briefly, rubbing your eyes sleepily, going over to take a seat across her. “And you?”

“I have, yes, thank you for asking.”

There was a moment of silence as you poured fresh coffee into a tall mug. Everything smelt absolutely amazing, your stomach growled, arguing in hunger. You hadn’t realised you were so hungry, normally you didn’t eat much in the morning, just the enough, but today you wanted to swallow all the great dishes in front of you.

“They should be back today.” Frigga expresses, sipping at her tea again, a genuine smile on her lips. “Thor must miss you deeply. He was always dispirited when he came here and had to be without you.“

“He misses you too, all the time we spent at Earth, he would tell me stories about his parents, especially about you.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, late at night he’d go on about how we would love one another because our personalities were so similar. Then he would laugh, saying that maybe my temper wasn’t just as calm as yours.” A gentle chuckle slips from Frigga, she feels happy to imagine her son being a perfect mama’s boy, gushing about her. “I suppose he wanted the two women in his life to get along.”

“He most certainly did.”

The memory of him makes the two of you exchange an intimate smile, which feels oddly familiar. In the past week that they had been gone, Frigga clung a lot to you, bringing you to her room, braiding your hair… She was honestly treating you like the daughter she haven’t had. Not that you were complaining, you liked the extra care. And being able to tell Thor about his mum would make him happy, so you were even happier.

Breakfast went on and ended in a burst of laughter, Frigga has told you a story from his early childhood, he couldn’t have been more than four when she heard childish screams and ran to find out what was going on. She recalls being so concerned until she saw them, her toddlers inside a bathtub, playing carefree with tiny boats.

In wishes to show you, she took you to a great living room, searching for the pictures that had been taken at the time.

“Look.” She hands you a photograph of said scene. “Loki was always trying to kick his big brother, but seeing them play was so relieving.”

“Oh really? I never thought they had such a complicated relationship, Thor speaks very fondly about his brother.”

“Thor adores Loki, always has, but Loki is… complicated.” As she shrugs, you comprehend it’s a delicate matter. “Never mind that. Look at this one!”

“He was so cute!” There’s another photo in your hands, a pale baby bathing while golden locks fall to his face and he smiles happily. “No wonder he turned out to be so handsome.”

“Although I am his mother, therefore entirely biased, he is a beautiful man.” There’s proud beneath those words, chest slightly inflated. “When you have children of your own, you’ll know what that’s like.”

“Hmm, actually, I was-”

Before you could tell her, two mighty men strolled inside the huge room, their voices loud as they discussed, although you couldn’t quite pin what they were talking about. Your heart thumped upon seeing him, there were minor bruises on his face, but the smile, it had you tingly, blue eyes watching you with adoration. A week was too long for you to be without him.

It didn’t take long for you to feel a pair of strong arms pulling you up from behind to a back hug, his heady scent flooding you completely. After so long, you were at ease. It made you nervous when he took a while to come back home, of course you knew he was strong enough to defeat all of his enemies. It didn’t stop you from being nervous still that one day… Well. No use to dwell on those now, he was home and safe.

“Hello, milady.” Odin takes on of your hands to place a kiss on its back, one of his arms looped around Frigga’s waist. “Hope my Frigga treated you nicely?”

“She is a delight as always, sir.”

“Oh no, no need to call me sir. You’re family.”

Thor smirks against the skin of your neck, where his head is in hiding, long fingers fiddling with your robe's knot. It was such a small sentence but it really got to you. Perhaps it was because of your current state that family suddenly became so important to you. Plus being in an entirely different realm sure made you feel out of place.

"What were my two beautiful women doing?" It was your fiance's turn to ask. "Must say your laughter is certainly satisfactory."

"Your mum showed me some baby pictures of you. You were such a cute child."

"He takes after me." Odin boasts, the four of you laughing in unison. “Why don’t we give them some space, mín dróttnig? Thor has not sealed his lips about this girl in the journey back, he needs time with her.”

“Odin!” Frigga scolds, a blush rising to her pale cheeks. “You are embarrassing our son.”

“Oh no, mother, it is true, I cannot function without my sváss by my side and I have missed her quite a lot.” For a quick moment, you feel him tighten his arm around you. “But what were you showing her?”

“For the cold temperatures here, you sure spent a lot of time naked.” You mocked, giggling at him, noticing the tips of his ears go pink as you look back at him. “It was just you bathing. Loki and you certainly looked cute playing together at four.”

“Mother!”

“And with that, we will leave you to it.”

There’s the reminisce of a chuckle as the elder couple leaves, Thor spinning you to take a proper look at his wife-to-be, taking in all the features he missed when away, the smoothness of your face on his hands and your lips against his. It was a short, desperate kiss, showing all of the longings you both had. When air made itself necessary, you hide your face on his stiff chest, enjoying the warmness it gave you, large hands going up and down your back.

"I see you and my mum are doing well."

You nod.

"I think she wanted to have a daughter instead of boys. One day she took me to her room and spent two hours braiding my hair." Thor snickers. "It's good though. I like spending time with her, makes me miss my mama less."

"Oh, sváss, we'll go to Midgard soon, I have to make sure Asgard is safe."

Reaching up to cup his cheek, you enjoy the prickling his beard causes. It's so sweet how he worries about your wishes even though there's so much in play, so many wars to fight and lives that were dependent on him.

"There's something I want to tell you."

"Yes?" He urges you forward, a crinkle of worry appearing on his forehead. "Is everything okay?"

"I am-" Your lip rests between your teeth as you hesitate. "Oh Thor, how would you feel about having a baby?"

"A baby? Are you with a child?" The booming voice questions, cobalt eyes wide in astonishment.

"Shhhh. I don't want people to know yet."

"Are we becoming grandparents?" Frigga sneaks her head into the room, Odin smiling behind her. The All-Father sensed your different energy. "Why haven't you told me, dearling? We could have started preparing-"

"Mother-" Thor cuts her off. "-You are overwhelming her. She needs peace. Come now, sváss, I shall take you to our chambers."

A loud squeal slips as he lifts you in his arms, your weight disappearing in the magnitude of his thick biceps. You drape your arms on his shoulders, supporting yourself while smiling in pure glee.

"Get my daughter-in-law back, we have planning to do, Thor."

"Later, mother."

And with that, he takes you to your bedroom, your heart filled with happiness. Feeling like your life is exactly where it should be.

tags!

marvel: @frenfics

thor: @lancsnerd @odinson-barnes

[nothingeverlost]

Henry Gold (Chapter 7/?)

Summary: Regina asked for Gold’s help in procuring a child, but when he held the wee boy in his arms he couldn’t give the child up.  Ten years later it’s Henry Gold who arrives in Boston, looking for Emma.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

A/N: There's a few chunks of dialogue here from Heart of a Lonely Hunter (1x07) that I needed to keep for plot reasons.

This chapter referenced the Regina and Graham relationship. And by relationship I mean rape. Graham does not fully understand yet what it was but there is references to it not being consensual.

_________________ “Can we talk, Gold?”  She walked with him to his shop the next morning after Henry had caught the bus to school.

“It seems rare that those words lead to anything good.  Should I be worried?” He unlocked the door and went straight for the back to turn off the alarm.  Emma was relieved to see that he’d already had the broken glass pane replaced on the door.

“I don’t think it’s anything that would trouble you, but I don’t know.  That’s why I’m asking.”  It would change things.  Taking a job meant that she was committing to something more than an open ended vacation.

“Don’t keep me in suspense.  Please.”  He turned, but didn’t make any other move, showing no interest in returning to the front of the shop to open the store.  The backroom felt a little stuffy, or maybe it was just her.

“Graham offered me a job.”  She didn’t mention that it had been days ago and her first answer had been no.  

“I presume we aren’t talking about a volunteer position at the animal shelter?”  

“Deputy.”  She had to laugh a little.  How many times had she run from cops?  Or ducked around a corner because they made her nervous?  

“And you’re thinking of saying yes.”  It wasn’t a question.  “Henry will be pleased.”

“Are you okay with that?”  She’d come for a day and it had been a couple of weeks already.  “I can find my own place, of course, you’ve already been more than generous in putting me up.  Henry’s your son, and I would never try to change that, but I like knowing him.  I’d like to see him sometimes.  It’s not just Henry, though.  Boston is just the most recent place I’ve lived.  This place, there’s something different about it.”

“You’re making connections to people.  The sheriff, Mary Margaret, might even add myself to that list.”  He offered her a lopsided smile, as if adding himself to the list was a joke.  Then again he seemed as bad as she was at having friends.  After a couple of weeks there still wasn’t anyone she could name that she’d call a friend, other than herself. “I think our living arrangements at the moment are quite satisfactory.  Henry and I would be quite happy if you’d continue as our guest.”

“You’re sure?”  It was surprisingly easy, for the first time she’d lived with anyone in a decade.  “You should at least let me pay rent or something.”

“We can discuss that later, if you wish.  But you’re good with my boy, Emma.  He’s happy when you’re around and if I knew nothing else about you I’d like you for that alone.”

“Alright.”  She shifted uncomfortably, not quite sure how to respond.  “I’m just gonna go now.”

“Good luck,” he offered as she left.  “And you could switch the sign to open on your way out.”

The walk to the sheriff’s office was a short one, and Emma figured now that she’d made up her mind she might as well commit.  She’d mentioned to Graham the idea of coming over already.  It was also easier doing something rather than letting herself think too much about her conversation with Gold and just what it all meant.  The idea that even a part of Henry’s happiness relied on her was terrifying.

“Hey Graham, are you doing anything or can we…”  Emma froze in the doorway of the sheriff’s station.  Graham was sitting in one of the chairs.  Regina Mills was standing over him, her hand tugging on his tie, her mouth all but consuming his.  

“Ms. Swan.”  At the sound she turned, looking over her shoulder and smirking.

“You’re doing something.”  Emma gripped the doorframe, trying to focus on the feel of the worn paint under her hand and not the scene before her.  She didn’t need to notice that the buttons of Graham’s vest were undone or that his hair was more tousled than usual.  “I’ll come back later.”

“Emma.”  He tried to get up but Regina didn’t move, something that Emma was weirdly thankful for.

“No, really, it’s okay.  It’s not that important.”  She was glad to be gone before he was able to follow her.  Then again maybe he didn’t try.  Maybe he and Regina had simply resumed what they were doing.  It shouldn’t bother her so much, but she really didn’t like Regina.  And, a tiny voice in her head admitted, she really liked Graham.

Her main thought was getting away from the sheriff’s station.  Somehow that lead her to the docks.  She’d never spent much time looking at the water in Boston, but there was something calming about it.  Calming enough that she didn’t realize at first that she wasn’t alone.  “Hey.”

“What the hell?”  She turned, steeling herself for Graham, but feeling both relieved and confused when it was David.  Coma guy.  “Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital?”

“Nothing wrong with me,” he said with a shrug.  “I have to go back in a couple of days for tests to make sure, but they let me out this morning.  It took me this long to convince Kathryn I could take a walk on my own.  I have to admit, though, that I might be a little lost.”

“I’m not sure about that doctor of yours.”  After all he’d almost died last night, drowned in the river, and that wasn’t even accounting for the mysterious wake up from the coma.  “Guess it’s nice to not be in a hospital bed, though.”

“It’s nice to be anywhere.”  He leaned against the railing, his arm just a few inches from Emma’s.  “I’m sorry but I don’t remember your name.”

“Not sure if you ever learned it, we only met last night.  It’s Emma.  I’m new to town.”  She wondered if that was true, or if she was still just a visitor.  Working with Graham seemed a little less certain than it had an hour ago.  She couldn’t stay without a job; even without paying rent she needed to do something.  Or she could go back to Boston.  “And you’re apparently David, not John Doe.”

“That’s what they tell me.”  Another shrug.  “I suppose I’ll remember at some point.”

“Maybe you won’t.  Sometimes not remembering the past could be a blessing.”  There were plenty of things in her past she wouldn’t mind forgetting.  Hell, there were things in the past 20 minutes she wouldn’t mind forgetting.  The mental image of Regina and Graham was not a pleasant one.

“Maybe forgetting the past is a curse.  I left my wife, and I don’t know why.  I don’t even know if…” He looked out at the water and was silent for a minute.  “When the only things you know about yourself are what other people tell you you have to have a lot of trust.  Trust in them and trust in yourself, that you’re not forgetting something important.  Someone important.”

“Not everyone has someone important.”  Crap, she really didn’t need to be unloading on the guy who had been in a coma twenty-four hours ago.  “Henry would say that if someone matters that much you’ll find them.  He’s very into happily ever after.”

“Henry’s the kid that was with you yesterday?  He’s the one with the book, right?”  David cracked a lopsided smile.  “Apparently I owe him a thank you.”

“I’m sure it’s just coincidence.”  The last thing they needed was anyone supporting Henry’s stories and ideas about another world that didn’t really exist.  “Or maybe the story was really bad and you were trying to get away from it.”

She didn’t even get a sympathy laugh.  “I don’t remember the story, just the voice.”

“Yeah, sometimes the voice tells you more than the words.”  It was always a person’s voice that told her they were lying.  It was the voices she remembered, too.   Henry’s laugh.  The way she knew Graham was calling the moment he made a sound.  She could still remember Neal’s voice.  Voices were the only thing she really remembered from her first years with the Swans, just a vague impression.  

“Emma can we talk?”  Behind her a familiar voice signaled that they weren’t alone.

“And sometimes a voice is the last thing you want to hear.”  She resisted the impulse to turn around.  She didn’t need to look to know that Graham was only a few feet behind them.  David, however, had no such compunction.  

“It’s the sheriff.”  He nodded politely.  “Hey.”

“Mr. Nolan, are you supposed to be out of the hospital?” Graham sounded concerned.  He was a good sheriff.  Whatever else she felt about him she knew that was true.  There was a world of difference between cops who wanted the job for power and those that wanted to help people.

“They released me, but I should probably head home.  Kathyrn will worry.  Or maybe not.  I don’t know.”  David looked out at the water again, lips pressed together. 

“You mentioned that you weren’t sure how to get back; I’m sure the sheriff can help you home.”  For the first time Emma turned away from her view of the water and looked at Graham.  “Unless you have something else to do?”

“You’re not giving me a chance to explain.”  He took a step forward.  She wished she could take one back but the railing stopped her.

“There’s nothing to explain.  You’re an adult, you’re allowed to be with anyone you want.  I’m just sorry I interrupted something and glad I didn’t show up any later.”  She really didn’t want to think about how far they might have gotten in the station, but Regina hadn’t looked like she was just there for a morning peck on the cheek.  She looked at David and hoped he understood what she wasn’t saying.  

“I wouldn’t mind the help, sheriff.  I’m afraid I wandered a bit, hoping to find something that looked familiar.”  David gave her a look, tilting his head to the side.  She figured she’d have to say something to him later.  “See you around town, Emma.  Give Henry my thanks.”

“Yeah.”  Graham looked like he wanted to say something else but decided against it.  Emma was relieved when they walked off together in the opposite direction of Gold’s house.  She just wanted to go somewhere she didn’t have to talk to anyone for a little while.

II

“What the hell?  You could have hit me.”  Emma stared at the dart now lodged in the doorway.  

“I never miss.”  Maybe it was her talk with David about voices earlier but his accent seemed thicker as he walked towards her.  Then again maybe it was the alcohol because he’d clearly had more than a couple of drinks.  “You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you, I just had other things to do.  Your love life is your choice.  I don’t care.”  When she realized her voice was getting a little too loud and people were staring she pulled the door open and left.  Her plans to get a drink had ended when she’d realized that Graham was there.

“If you don’t care why are you upset?”  Of course he had to follow her.  Not just follow but jog ahead, turning so she had no choice but to look at him.

“I’m not upset.”  Man, that was an obvious lie, probably even to him.

“Good, then let’s go get a drink.  I’ll buy.”  He reached for her hand.  Emma pulled away.  Coffee and donuts was one thing.  Drinks the same day she’d seen him with Regina Mills was another.  He hadn’t made any promises but she’d thought there was maybe something between them.  Just the start of something, but different from the other friendships she’d started in town.  “One drink, Emma.  We can talk.  I need you to understand.”

“Why?”  It seemed pretty straightforward.  He was in a relationship, they weren’t.  The only question was did she still want to work in the sheriff’s station knowing that Regina Mills was apparently a frequent visitor, and not in her capacity as mayor.

“I don’t know, maybe so I can figure things out?  I don’t feel anything with her, can you understand that?”  He almost lost his footing on the curb; the last thing he needed was another drink even if she had wanted to spend more time with him.

“I get bad relationships, Graham, trust me I’m kind of an expert.  But your bad relationship isn’t my issue and I’m pretty much the last person to ask for advice.  Maybe you can talk to Archie.”  She’d met Henry’s therapist once, he seemed like a nice guy.  He had to be better at listening to Graham talk about Regina than she was.

“I don’t want to talk to Archie, I want to talk to you.  You don’t know Regina yet, what she’s like.  Please, Emma.”  He stopped, and she had no choice but to stop too.  It was that or run into him.

“Please what?”

“Just please.”  Because she could figure out what he was asking his mouth was on hers, his hands cupping her face in a way that was strangely gentle for the desperation in the kiss.  A moment later he pulled away.

“What the hell was that?”  The last thing she expected from him was a kiss, especially when she clearly wasn’t interested.  He didn’t seem like that kind of guy.

“Did you see that?”  He looked around as if searching.  Emma almost laughed.

“If you mean did I see you kiss me, yeah, hard to miss. That was way over the line.”  Her hands tightened into fists.  It wasn’t going to happen a second time, she was certain of that.

“I’m sorry.  I just…”  He pressed one hand to his head.

“You’re just drunk, Graham, and you seem to be in a bad place but you’re not using me to find whatever you can’t with Regina.  I’m not that person.”  She’d found herself in that place once and it had left a sour taste in her mouth.  It wasn’t as bad as the bloody nose her boyfriend had gotten, though, when she’d overheard him on the phone with his wife.  “Go home.  Or don’t.  But you need to stop following me.”

II

Emma was going to stay.  It was good, not just for the curse but for his boy.  Even, he thought, for himself.  It was a long time since he’d had anyone he could call friend and Emma was strangely becoming that.  The worlds were ironic places, that he could consider the Savior his friend. However it meant he needed to prepare for her to settle in for the long hull and there were a few changes he needed to make.  The first and most important was that he couldn’t risk her - or anyone else - finding his dagger.  Little did he expect to run into anyone while he was in the forest burying the wretched thing.

“Did I forget to shave?” he joked when the sheriff spoke of wolves.  He’d never seen wolves in the forest, but then things were bound to start changing.  That it was Graham, formerly the huntsman, that was looking for wolves was very interesting.  “To the best of my knowledge, Sheriff, there are no wolves in Storybrooke. Not the literal kind, anyway. Why are you looking?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”  If Gold hadn’t known any better he might have agreed with the assessment that many would make, that Graham was crazy.   He was wearing the clothes from the day before, eyes bloodshot and racing around after animals that weren’t supposed to exist in the forest.  He, however, did know better.  

“Try me.”  Something had happened yesterday.  Emma had been withdrawn when she’d gotten home, and certainly not in the mood to celebrate or tell Henry about a new job and a more permanent stay in Storybrooke. 

“I saw one in my dreams, and then I saw one for real. Just a few hours ago.” He looked around the forest, less at home than he would have been in another life.  The wild creature was a pet now, even more so than he’d been back home.

“You know, Sheriff, they say that dreams… Dreams are memories. Memories of another life.”  The only “they” that said such a thing was himself, but then again it wasn’t a pretty little fairy story made up to make people feel better.  For whatever reason Graham was starting to remember who he really was.

“And what do you believe?”  Graham was confused enough that he didn’t seem to care where help came from, as long as someone could explain what was happening.

“I believe that you might want to be a little more selective about who you let in your bed, Sheriff.”  It would be better for everyone if Regina didn’t learn that Graham had memories of another life.  “You might find that you have more pleasant dreams.”

“Emma told you.”  Graham’s shoulders sagged; for the first time he didn’t seem to be looking for the wolf.  So Emma knew about the mayor and the sheriff.  That would explain the mood last night.

“Madame Mayor is hardly the most subtle person in town, Sheriff.  It was evident well before my houseguest came to town.”  He hadn't cared then, or understood the nature of their relationship.  Two city officials having an affair was hardly more than an annoyance.  One being a victim without a heart was another matter entirely.  He was guilty of a great many things this world called sins, but he had never had even as much as a kiss from someone who couldn’t refuse.

“I don’t think I have a choice,” he confessed, more self-aware than he had been even a few days ago.

“Look for your wolf, Sheriff, and perhaps give yourself a break for a day or two.”  Regina had very poor impulse control; if she was going to react to Graham’s ‘dreams’ she wasn’t going to wait.  Maybe, if she did act, there was something he could do.  Without tipping his hand, of course.

“Yeah, I think I’ll just walk a little more.”

“I wish you luck.”  Gold picked up his shovel and headed towards his car.  He had some thinking and plotting to do.

II

The last person Emma expected to come out the front door at the Gold house when she pulled up was Graham.  He looked like crap.  “What are you doing here?  Mary Margaret said you stopped by after school and looked like you needed to be in bed.”

“I’m not sick,” he protested.  It wasn’t even fair to call it a lie, it was so obvious.  Mary Margaret had mentioned a fever when she’d called and he looked flushed.  Despite what he’d had to drink the night before it didn’t look like a hangover.

“Did you come to see me?”  She hoped not, since she’d made it pretty clear the night before that she wasn’t interested in talking right now, but couldn’t think of any other reason for him to be at the house.

“I came to see Henry.  He showed me his book.”  He looked up at the window to Henry’s bedroom.

“Oh for the love of… are you serious?”  The very last thing she expected from Graham right now was talk about fairy tales.  

“He helped me to figure out what’s happening.  All of this.”  he touched a hand to his chest and gestured in the general direction of town.  

“He’s a ten-year-old kid.”  He already thought he needed to fix something huge and it was a weight on his shoulders he didn’t need.

“He’s the only one that understands, and now I know what I need to do.”

“Mary Margaret was right, you really need to be in bed.  You’re sick, Graham.”  She reached out to see if he had a fever but Graham dodged her.  She might be angry at him and confused but she was worried too.  By now she’d say worry outnumbered everything else.

“I need to follow the wolf, he’ll lead me to my heart.”

“You have a heart, Graham.  See?”  She approached him as carefully as she would an injured animal, resting a hand on his chest.  She could feel the beat of his heart under her hand.  Picking up his own hand she placed it against his chest, covering it with her own.  She could feel him shaking.  “See?”

“You don’t understand, it’s just an echo.  It’s not real.”  He said real the same way he’d explained last night that he didn’t feel anything. “ I have to go.”

“I’ll come with you, but first we’re dropping Henry off at the pawnshop.  I told Gold I’d be home this afternoon.”  She didn’t know what Graham was planning exactly when he said he was going to follow the wolf, or how long it would take.  She knew that he didn’t need to be alone.

“I could come with you,” Henry said hopefully when she shouted up the stairs for him to put on his shoes.  She didn’t dare leave Graham alone even long enough to go up and talk to him, though she really needed to know what he and Graham had talked about.  Emma looked at Graham and shook her head.

“I need you to tell your dad whatever it is you and Graham talked about, okay?  We need to help him.”  She knew Graham was upset the night before but this was something else.  Something Henry didn’t need to be around.

“The wolf is a friend, when you see him.  Don’t be scared of him.”  Henry slipped his hand into hers.  Emma might have rolled her eyes except for the fact that a minute later she saw a wolf, standing at the edge of Main Street.  It was huge and its eyes were two different colors.  One glowed red, and one was black.

“Really?”  Was it possible that there was something in the water?  Or gas lines, that was a thing wasn’t it?  Mass hallucinations happened in some places.

“I have to go, Emma.”  Graham was staring at the wolf, so she wasn’t the only person that saw it.

“I can walk by myself.  I promise I’ll go straight to dad.”  Henry let go of her hand.  “He needs you.”

“Yeah, okay.”  She waited just a moment to watch Henry walk away, still unsure if she should let him go even the couple of blocks alone, but when Graham started running she followed.  He ran away from town; she couldn’t see the wolf any longer but he either knew where it was going or they were both running blind.  They stopped on the edge of the forest, a mile outside of town.

She hadn’t seen the cemetery yet.  “Why are we here?”

“I don’t know.  This is where I lost the trail.”  

“The trail to your heart?” Emma hoped that the trail didn’t end in the cemetery; she didn’t want to think about what that was supposed to mean.

“I know it…”  Graham stopped, his attention drawn to the mausoleum just outside of the cemetery.  If someone didn’t know differently it looked almost like a stone cottage in the woods.  “Look above the door, it the same as the picture in Henry’s book.”

“We can’t go in there.”  Going into someone’s crypt was weird, but the name on the outside said Mills.  She was pretty sure that investigating the final resting place of the mayor’s family wasn’t going to go over well.  And yeah, maybe the symbol above the door looked a little like a picture she’d seen in Henry’s book but that didn’t mean anything.

“I have to see what’s inside.  This is where she keeps it.”  He sounded so certain.  She sighed and tried the door.  It was locked.  After looking around to make sure they were still alone Emma kicked it hard enough to open the door.  The mayor was really going to hate her, but it was the least of her concerns.  She followed Graham into the small room with the casket in the middle.  Henry Mills.  It was a weird feeling knowing that would have been Henry’s name if the adoption had gone through as planned.  Apparently he was supposed to be named after his grandfather.

“There’s nothing here Graham.”  She wasn’t sure what he expected, but he clearly wasn’t finding it.  He muttered about hidden doors, levers, the usual things you expected from Saturday morning cartoons, not small-town cemetery mausoleums.

“There has to be.”  She caught him as he tried to pass her, holding him with a hand on each arm.  A little closer and she could kiss him if she wanted.  Closer still and she could hug him.  “If it’s not…”

“What are you doing here?”  Of course Regina Mills would show with flowers in her hand now of all times.  That was the way her luck was running.  Emma followed Graham out of the room.  It was probably a good idea to be out of the small space but moving closer to Regina wasn’t her favorite plan.  She wasn’t sure she loved the way Graham was putting himself in front of her either.

“It’s not her fault, this is all me.  I was looking…”  Graham swayed, not quite losing his balance but looking a moment away from falling.

“You don’t look well, dear.  Let’s get you home and in bed.”  Regina grabbed his arm with the hand not holding a bouquet of flowers and held on tight, starting to walk away without pausing.  Emma was reminded of a childhood fight and a neighbor huffing home with the bike she’d been trying to teach Emma to ride when Emma had insisted on trying on her own.

“I’m not going home, not with you.”  Graham pulled away, putting a few feet between them.  “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

“You don’t mean that.”  Regina looked honestly shocked.  Emma figured it said a lot about how often anyone said no to her.  How often Graham said no.  “Everything we have…”

“What do we have?  It’s not a relationship.  We don’t talk, we don’t go out.  You expect me to be there when you want me and leave when you’re done.”  The more Emma heard the worse she felt in the pit of her stomach.  “I thought that the fact that I don’t feel anything was on me, but it’s not.”

“You’re confused, Graham.  You’re sick and you need someone to take care of you.”  Regina spoke as if she was talking to a stubborn child.  Emma was well familiar with that voice.

“I’m thinking clearly for the first time in a long time, Regina.  Clearly enough to know that whatever we do have is over now.”  It was hard to stay back and not step in front of Graham.  The one thing Regina wasn’t wrong about was the fact that he needed to be in bed.

“So this woman shows up in town and now you’re done with me?”  For the first time Regina turned her attention to Emma.  Crap.  “You’re leaving me for her?”

“This has nothing to do with Emma or anyone else.”  Graham shifted, again putting himself between her and Regina.  “I’m leaving you for me, because I deserve better.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Graham.  It’s this fever.”  She tried to take his arm again, but he pulled away too fast.  Already unsteady, the misstep was enough to send him to the ground.  He was too damn still.

“Graham?”  Emma scurried down next to him, unsure if it was safe to roll him over and check for injuries or if you left a person where they were to avoid making things worse.  It was a relief when he groaned and struggled to sit up.  She helped him, frowning when she saw the blood trickling down the side of his face.  He must have hit a rock or something.

“Let me help, dear.”  

Emma pushed the offered hand away.  “You’re not very good at listening, are you?  He doesn’t want you around him.”

“You don’t belong here, Ms. Swan.  You’ll be gone soon, and Graham will still be here.”  It sounded like a threat.

“Didn’t you hear the news, Madame Mayor?  I’m the new deputy, and I’m not going anywhere.”  She was glad when Graham was able to stand, and with her help walk away from Regina without another word.  The woman made her skin crawl.

“New deputy?” Graham asked when they were out of earshot.  She was glad that he was finally distracted from his talk of hearts and wolves.

“It was your idea,” she reminded him.  Anything else they needed to say could wait; it was going to take a lot longer to get back to town than it had to run after imaginary - or not so imaginary - wolves.  They needed to conserve their energy.

They were too far from the mausoleum to hear the sound of the coffin moving, revealing a staircase, or to see Regina’s determined stride down the steps.

II

“I need you to stay here for a little bit.  When I get back we’ll have hamburgers,” he promised.  Granny looked about a second away from rolling her eyes at him, but she’d agreed to keep an eye on Henry for a little while.  He was lucky she and Ruby both had a soft spot for his son.  The discount on their rent didn’t hurt.  When he needed someone to watch Henry they were his first stop.

“I could help if people let me.  I figured out how to find Emma, didn’t I?”  Henry looked at his dad hopefully; it was the second time that day he was being left behind.

“Yes, and you scared ten years off my life by taking a bus to another state.”  He was the only person Gold knew of every leaving Storybrooke.  He had nightmares that it didn’t work, and Henry’d had an accident at the border of town like Ashley and anyone else that tried to leave.  “I’m just checking on Emma and the sheriff, I’ll be back soon.  You can have a hot chocolate while you wait.”

“Is Graham going to be okay?”  Henry frowned, pressing his lips together.  “The Evil Queen took his heart so she could make him do whatever she wanted.”

“I’m sure she can’t use a power like that in Storybrooke, even if the rest of the story were real.”  He was distracted enough that he almost forgot to give his answer carefully.  If Regina was after Graham and Emma was with Graham she could be in trouble too.  He couldn’t risk anything happening to her, not as the Savior or as someone that Henry cared about.  “I’ll be back soon, alright?”  

He left Henry with Granny taking his order for hot chocolate, extra cinnamon.  From Henry he had a general idea of the direction that Graham and Emma had headed, but more importantly from his own explorations of town he knew that there was only one place that Regina could be hiding her crypt full of hearts.

He frowned when he saw that the door to the mausoleum was open.  Inside the staircase was still revealed.  Regina had to be inside.  It was sloppy work, leaving everything so revealed.  Gold shook his head.  It was good for him, for course, as long as she hadn’t gotten too far but for someone who had once been a student it was disappointing how little she had learned.

Carefully he started down the stairs.

II

“I’m sorry.”  Graham sat on the edge of the desk in the sheriff’s station while she got a couple of paper towels wet and wiped away the blood dripping down the side of his face.  There was a cut just an inch or so from his eye; he was lucky it wasn’t any closer.  “I don’t know what happened today.  Why it happened.”

“You’ve had a fever and I would guess not a lot of sleep on top of however much you drank last night.”  There was some antibiotic in the first aid kit he’d opened for her.  She dabbed a little carefully on his cut.  He winced a little.  “Don’t be a baby, it didn’t hurt that much.”

“That might explain the last day but it doesn’t explain why I was with her.  I don’t even like her, Emma.  When I think of being with her…”  He closed his eyes, his breathing coming quicker.  Emma set down the tube of cream and touched his cheek with one hand.

“Sex with someone that doesn’t matter can be easy and safe. Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you really feel sucks.”  She’d lost herself for a few hours more than once with someone that didn’t matter at all.  She didn’t even remember their names.

“I don’t remember how it even started with her.”  He opened his eyes to look at her.  She covered his cut with a bandage.  “I’m just glad it’s over.”

“I’m glad too.”  He had kissed her yesterday and it had been unwelcome.  It hadn’t been about her.  Now, though, he was staring at her like she was the only person that mattered.  After a deep breath she used one of her fingers to touch his lower lip.  “Feel that?”

“Yeah.”  It was barely a whisper.  

“It’s just you and me here, Graham.  No one else.”  She waited a beat before leaning in, one hand on his shoulder to support herself.  It was everything their first kiss wasn’t, gentle and warm, the taste of whiskey and desperation replaced by the taste of Graham and the scent of pine.  

“I felt that too.”  He smiled at her, and her heart beat double time.  She was pretty sure the room was spinning, and not because she had a fever.  

“I think we should get you home now.  It’s been a long day.”  They needed to move slow.  She needed to move slow.

“I think…”  His eyes flared and his hand pressed against his chest.  She hurried to wrap her arms around him, barely catching him before he fell again.  

“Graham?”  She helped him to the ground and frantically felt for a pulse.

II

No matter how many things changed the core stayed the same.  Regina might wear a suit now instead of ridiculously corseted dresses, but she was still a petulant child who preferred to break her own toys rather than share.  She held a glowing heart in her hand.  Graham’s, no doubt.  He was glad that she was turned away from him and too focused on what she was doing to notice that she wasn’t alone.  He couldn’t stop her from squeezing the heart, he was too far away, but before she had a chance to do more he used his cane to hit her on the back of the head.  She crumpled in an inelegant pile on the crypt floor.

“If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a hundred times, guard your perimeter, dearie.  It also helps to be a little less predictable.”  He stooped down next to her, prying the heart out of her hands.  It was still red and glowing, a good sign.  It was a little large for the pocket of his coat but he made it work.  Regina didn’t stir before he made it out of the room and back up the stairs.  She might have her suspicions later, but she wouldn’t know for certain.  She certainly wouldn’t be able to ask him.

Before he returned to the diner Gold stopped back at the house, descending down another staircase into the little-used basement of his home.  He needed a safe place to keep the sheriff’s heart, and for the moment a box in the basement was as good as he could do.  At least it was in one piece and not a small pile of ash.

II

“Say something.”  She shook Graham again.  He was breathing, and he had a pulse but all his color had drained.  She’d discovered that 911 did work in Storybooke and the only ambulance the hospital owned was on the way.

“Graham, please.”

“My heart.”  His eyes fluttered open briefly but closed again.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a heart because I’ve felt it.  It beats the same as mine.”  She held a palm flat against his heart, needing the reassurance.  She felt the beats and the rising up of his chest.  His lungs continued to fill.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be better.”  She couldn’t lose him.  Maybe he was a friend and employer, maybe he was something else.  But he mattered.  She was just starting to let people into her life, and she wasn’t going to lose one.  “Be better, Graham.  Help is coming.”

[queenofthemindynasty]

Even If You Say ‘No’ - pt 4

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem!Reader

Summary: {Y/n}, a brilliant, young producer at BigHit Entertainment, tends to be overly self-critical of her work and scarcely gives herself credit when it’s due. Hoseok, A.K.A. J-Hope of BTS, puts so much effort into keeping up the spirits of the other members, he hardly has time to worry about his own well being. What will happen when the two cross paths?

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol Universe

Warnings: explicit language, mildly suggestive themes

Word Count: 2890

With a shrug of her shoulders and the nagging thought of I’m going to regret this later, she said, “Alright, fine. I guess if you really want to teach me that badly.” She still doubted she’d learn much at all, but it didn’t hurt to give it a try just to humour him. She tied her hair back into a ponytail.

His face lit back up again. “Yes! I do,” he insisted with a nod.

First he walked her through a bit of stretching to get started. By the time that was over, though, she was already tiring out. Why was she doing this again? She was just going to end up embarrassing herself.

“Is there any choreography in particular you wanna learn?” She shook her head. “Okay…How about MIC Drop?” he suggested, going to start up the music. She nodded indifferently, but then realised he’d had his back turned.

“Sure.”

“Cool.” The song started playing from the sound system at a slower-than-usual tempo. “I’ll show you first, then I’ll work you through the steps. Okay?” She nodded, watching his reflection in the mirror with intent as his verse approached. He raised his arms out to either side of him, the action quickly followed by a jerk of the head. Even with the music slowed, his body was still a flurry of precisely calculated movements. She didn’t know whether to watch his feet, his arms, or wherever else. Before she had much time to think, “Mic mic bungy!” sounded from the speakers, marking the end of his verse. “You wanna give it a try now?”

She shook her head in utter befuddlement. “I guess…?” It was a joke how flummoxed she actually was. Either way, he was already on his way to reset the track to the beginning.

It was still slow, which she was thankful for. She wasn’t half way through the second stanza when she saw herself in the mirror and cringed. She looked akin to some sort of stiff-jointed marionette. Immediately upon seeing herself, she threw her arms down and dropped out, laughing bitterly at her own patheticness. “I can’t do this,” she chortled into her palm.

“Of course you can! You’ve hardly even tried it yet.” She opened her mouth to retort his claim, but he interrupted her. “You can’t expect to get it perfect on the first try, dummy.”

Why are we still here, she asked herself inwardly as Hoseok had her start from the beginning again, just to suffer? She leaned a little too far over in her frantic struggle on the line, “I don’t care.” She lost her balance and almost fell flat on her face. She would have if Hoseok’s arms hadn’t caught her in the nick of time. He was so quick, she didn’t even see him move through the reflection.

“You okay?” The sonorous, gravely vibrations of his voice rippled through her, emanating from his chest which stayed molded with her back as he heaved her into a standing position. She nodded, his slim yet sturdy arms still firmly wound around her waist.

“Thanks,” was all she could manage when her heart was acting like it had just run a marathon.

“Jeez, {Y/n}. Take it slow. No need to push yourself that hard.” His chest rumbled with laughter. “I know you’re enthusiastic to learn this, but don’t overdo it, okay?”

“Okay…”

If she hadn’t already been mortified from not having control over her own limbs enough to stay upright, being close enough to feel the disturbance in the air caused by his every breath did it. That was all it took for her to reach the point of no return. He was so gentle, holding her as though she were a glass doll that could fracture just with one touch out of place. Her heart was ricocheting off the walls of her ribcage. How long had it been pounding away like this? Could Hoseok feel it? Of course the physical exertion was a contributing factor. That was likely why her lungs felt so full and yet somehow, simultaneously empty. Even so, it seemed impossible to tear her focus from the way her frame slotted into his, how her head fit so nicely into the juncture of his chin, how the solidity of his arms stayed pressed softly into her waist, and how the scene in its entirety was being reflected back to her with every passing moment. How much longer was he going to stay like this?

Not long after she’d started counting the seconds in the back of her mind, his arms retracted from her, leaving her with a far-off feeling of abandonment in the pit of her stomach.

“What do you say we try that again? I can slow it down more if you want, and I’ll do it with you this time.”

She nodded. “‘Kay.”

Even after the tempo had been further lowered, she still stumbled a bit on the same line. Her instructor steadied her by the shoulder, sniggering and ‘aww’-ing in a sweet yet patronising manor. She knew she couldn’t get through two measures even at a quarter of the regular tempo. She didn’t need him to remind her. She sagged, becoming as a ragdoll as she let her arms hang limply in front of her out of shame.

“Look, let me show you what you keep missing.” She straightened up partially to look at his figure. He started going through the first few steps, chanting the lyrics under his breath in the place of music. “When you get to, ‘my spoon is dirty,’ you’re not spreading your legs far enough apart.” His feet were just barely past a shoulders’ width apart. “So when you get to, ‘I don’t care,’ and you try to lean over,” he leaned exaggeratedly to his side, “you don’t have a balanced stance and you fall right over.” He was stifling a laugh by the end of his explanation. “Try and get a wider stance.” He showed her the corrected steps. She tried to imitate him, but it was apparent that it still wasn’t quite satisfactory.

“Still a little narrow.” He chuckled, she sulking. “Make sure there’s some bend in your knees, too.” He showed her again. Using his image in the mirror, she corrected her position until it resembled his. “That’s better! Okay, let’s do that part again.” He lead her through it unaccompanied and her balance remained solidly intact this time.

After a while, she’d figured out the basis for learning a dance. It was just like the song writing process. You started with the sketch—the basic silhouette of the steps for lack of a better term—and worked out the finer details on that foundation. (She would probably end up saving that part for another day.) Soon, she was flying through the first part of the routine at full speed without stopping. After she’d gotten through it at the normal tempo for the first time, she was heaving for breath and drops of sweat were streaming down the side of her face. She didn’t have the stamina for this even if she had figured it out rather quickly.

“Water?” Hoseok was standing next to her, offering his bottle to her.

She huffed out a, “Thanks,” before downing half of it in about three seconds.

“That was awesome, what you just did.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled shyly. “I knew you’d be a natural at this. I told you, didn’t I?”

She heaved a sigh through an almost imperceptible smile. “Sure. Whatever.”

Learning dance from Hoseok had been an experience she wouldn’t have traded for anything. She’d been amazed at how much she’d actually been able to learn. They’d stayed in that studio for hours together, going over each part of the song in detail. By the end, she’d been able to perform the whole choreography without stopping, albeit still slowed and her individual movements still unpolished. Hoseok had been beaming with pride even so. He’d been fully supportive of her the entire session, saying things like, “See? This is easy for you,” and, “You were lying to me earlier when you said you couldn’t do this!”

Eventually, though, night had fallen, and she’d regretfully had to part ways with him. She could hardly believe herself for this, but she wanted so badly to return to that moment, where it was just the two of them in that barren, empty studio, her body fatigued and her heart racing. Her thoughts always returned to the moment she was wrapped up in his arms, both of them still as statues save for the syncronised rise and fall of their chests.

Right now, it was early evening, and she was in her own studio, trying to get in some last-minute edits (which, as usual, was not going the way she wanted it to). These songs would most likely be included in their next album, Love Yourself 轉 Tear, if she ever got around to finishing them. Even in the midst of producing, she still couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to her dance lesson from the day before. She needed to get these tracks in by the end of the following day, which meant she only had thirty hours to finish them. She was the slowest-working producer she knew. She had to focus.

She heard knocking at the door, right as she was telling herself to get back on track. She swiveled around in her chair. There was what looked like a pair of hands pressed up against the other side of the frosted glass, like a puppy pleading to be let inside. She was going to have to answer it, wasn’t she? Sighing, she stood up from her seat and cracked open the door. Peeking out into the hallway, she made eye-contact with the last person she needed to see at the moment.

“Hey, {Y/n}!”

She forced a smile. “Hello, Hoseok. Is there something I can do for you?”

He smiled at the door frame. “Not exactly. I’m off work for the rest of the day, so I just thought I might come by and keep you company while you’re here. I had a feeling you still would be.”

“Yep,” she exhaled, “I sure am.” She thought about having him come in and watch her work. Initially it seemed like it would just serve as an even bigger distraction. But on second thought, she always tended to subconsciously work more diligently if someone was watching her, seeing as she wanted to impress them. Even though it was honestly an excuse, it was reason enough to let him.

“Would that be okay?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” After opening the door the rest of the way, she pulled up the extra chair to the right of hers. “Want a pair of headphones?”

“Sure.” She handed them to him as he took a seat. She plugged his and her own into the splitter before putting her pair on and getting back to work.

She’d been right, it turned out. With him sitting beside her, watching and hearing every change she made, she worked ten times more efficiently. It wasn’t making the music itself sound much different, and it caused her to be just a bit more critical of her work, but she was much more focused now at least. He wasn’t saying much to her at all, contrary to what she would have expected. Why don’t I work like this all the time? she thought before remembering Hoseok wasn’t always free to sit in her studio with her. Neither were the other producers for that matter. Oh well. She’d have to make the most of it while it lasted. She backed up the cursor a few bars and hit play to listen to the changes she’d just made. She’d been making noticeable progress ever since Hoseok had come in.

Until he rested his hand on her knee.

She didn’t really notice it at first; her mind had been fixed on editing. But after a while, she felt the weight of it there, pressing into her leg ever so faintly. Her thoughts started racing. She began moving the cursor back to the same place, playing the same four bars again and again each time she’d missed hearing it. Did this mean something? He’d never done anything like this when she’d been with him in his studio back when they were working on tracks for Hope World, nor had he since then. Now was he just doing it subconsciously, or was he doing this to her on purpose? Was it actually some sort of test? The thought of him toying with her like that made her lose any capability of rational thought. But she held it in, taking a deep breath and making an attempt to refocus.

After a while, she’d managed to relax into his touch, setting aside thoughts of other possible implications and finding it a comforting reminder of his presence as she continued working.

“Hey. You know what I noticed?”

The voice broke her out of her thoughts yet again. She moved her headphones behind her ear and swallowed down her nerves. “No. What?” She kept her gaze on the screen to seem as unbothered as possible.

Even without looking, she could hear a hint of a smirk in his voice. “You seem pretty comfortable around me lately. More than usual, I mean.” She fidgeted in her seat. “Just yesterday, you let me touch you and hold you without saying anything about it.” Crap. He had noticed. “And now I’ve had my hand here for, what, ten minutes?” She just continued moving things around on the screen, trying to make herself look busy. When she didn’t respond, the weight disappeared from her leg and his arm moved to hang around the back of her chair. “How about if I do this? You still okay with that?”

She saw him watching her for a reaction through her peripheral vision with a smirk on his face. He was pushing the boundaries. She just nodded even though this development had brought his body significantly closer to hers and she could feel his body heat. At this point, she could tell this was meant to be some sort of game he was playing. And she didn’t plan on succumbing to defeat. He placed his other hand higher up on her thigh, making her head spin and her heart skip a beat. “How about now? Still good?” His voice had dropped to a deeper, more suggestive tone, and he was just centimeters away from her ear. She nodded again. It was an automatic response by now. And even though his teasing actions were overwhelming, she found herself wanting him to continue.

His hand once again vanished from her leg. He took her chin between his thumb and index finger and turned her head so she was looking at him. She repositioned her headphones to hang around her neck when she saw he’d taken his off and placed them on the desk. His expression was hard to read. His gaze was serious, as if analyzing her expression to know if she was truly comfortable with the situation. But behind his stern expression, she thought she caught a glimpse of something she’d personally never witnessed in him before.

He leaned forward, tilting his head, and his lips were on hers.

Her eyes squeezed shut out of instinct. The sudden contact sent an electric shock through her whole body, making her heart and mind stop. She turned to face him and before she realised it, she was kissing him back.

The kiss was an impossible mix of rough and gentle. The moment she reciprocated, he exhaled thickly, seeming to lose a little more control over himself, though she could still sense from him an effort to maintain chastity. His lips moved slowly yet harshly against hers as she tried desperately to match his movements. The hand that had been hanging from the back of her chair had buried itself in her hair while drawing her closer to him.

She was being kissed by Jung Hoseok.

And so passionately. She’d never thought that, in her whole life, she’d get to experience how this felt despite having fantasised about it on numerous occasions. And it was certain she hadn’t been the only one by far.

Out of nowhere, the image of thousands of shining lights and cheering voices appeared from the dark behind her eyelids. Suddenly the feeling of his lips pressed against hers made her realise what a filthy, selfish whore she was. Her eyes flew open. She pushed herself off of him. His hand fell to her shoulder as he looked at her shell shocked. Before he could say anything, though, she pushed him the rest of the way off of her and stood up. Setting her headphones clumsily on the desk, she stared back at him.

“I—” she started, all knowledge of the Korean language suddenly having left her. Her eyes darted around the room. In a panic, she managed to splutter out the words, “I have to go. Good night.” Then without thinking, she grabbed her bag and rushed out the door not giving so much as another glance in his direction.

How could she have forgotten her place that easily?

[machi-kun]

Avengers Endgame: an analysis far more detailed than you asked for

I decided to make a huge ass post talking about Endgame, with some opinions and some observations. A) because I’m physically incapable of shutting up, apparently, and B) because as I write my IW fix-it, Endgame does provide some very nice points to consider in terms of character development. As a long-time fan and someone who likes wasting months making character studies for fun, I have a lot to say about this movie and what it means. So, if you’re somehow interested in seeing me talk about this movie for far too long, go right ahead.

It’s gigantic. I warned you.

First of all, I have to say something. I grew up with the MCU, I watched nearly every single movie on theaters when they came out, and it shaped my teenage years. I will never, ever, not be grateful for it. For someone who followed the MCU step by step, it’s undeniable this movie is a thank you gift from the Marvel Studios to the fans, because there are moments in it that were crafted for us, with intention and purpose. They are gifts. And for that I’m thankful, that makes me like the movie more, but it also feels a little bittersweet – not only because it’s over, but because some things don’t end in a satisfactory manner.

So, let’s talk about it.

Starting from the beginning. First off, I love how it starts. It’s a sharp contrast to the final scenes in IW, where we see Peter vanishing in Tony’s arms – Clint turning around at the exact moment his family disappears and he has no idea what happened to them? Extremely powerful. It’s nice to see the two sides of the event, from one that explodes in your face with agony and one that sneaks in silently, but hurts just the same. That was a nice touch. I appreciate it.

Just wish we had more context for how it goes after that, because the next time we see Clint, boy, you sure did a 180, didn’t you?

But I’ll talk about Clint later. Now, let’s talk Tony Stark.

I am so pleased that they gave us the Nebula and Tony bonding moments. It’s essential to Nebula’s character, and it’s so good to see. Playing a silly game to pass the time while trapped in space in dire conditions? It screams Tony all over it, and it shows. Nebula’s reaction to losing is very telling too, her body language stiff and ready to act defensively, and the gentleness with which Tony treats her is perfect. Calm, unspoken, but clear. The sharp cut from this scene to the trailer scene, with Tony malnourished and nearly dying is a bit of a harsh transition, but I was so pleased to know his speech is even more heart-wrenching in the movie, his voice cracking and losing breath, so intense! RDJ was phenomenal. And in turn, we see Nebula return the kindness Tony gave her, and that is so damned important because it solidifies Nebula as someone who is not afraid to be vulnerable now, not just to her sister, but to other people who she has no “familial bond” to speak of, but that doesn’t mean she can’t find in them hope and connections. It opens her up to a world of possibilities.

Carol arrives at just the right moment, looking absolutely gorgeous with that hair, URGH, and brings them back. Now, as much as I love Carol, let’s jump forward a bit and talk about Tony’s return. The Benatar arrives. The door opens. Tony steps out, and Steve runs towards him. Which is a huge deal, considering how they left things between them. I scream at the implications of this, not only because this is so fanfic worthy, but because in more detail, it hits so close to what I believed would happen. Let me tell you why:

Steve runs towards Tony, and Tony doesn’t push him away, because he’s so exhausted and so, so shaken. So shaken, in fact, that the first thing that comes off his lips is I lost the kid. Mind you, at this point, Tony has no idea Steve knows who the kid is. But it doesn’t matter. Tony is so torn about it that he needs to tell someone, because it still doesn’t feel real but it hurts like it does, and for Nebula, he had been holding it in. Now he’s home, he can let it all out. And how does Steve reply:

We all lost someone, Tony.

Now. That might just be me, but that doesn’t read as sympathetic. It reads kind of insensitive, actually. Remember, Tony doesn’t know Steve knows who he’s talking about, but he’s saying it anyway, he is exposing his grief in the rawest manner possible – and Steve’s reply doesn’t acknowledge how intense Tony’s grief is, at the moment he needs it the most. Sure, it’s not wrong. It’s true, everyone lost someone. But would you say that, when you know it’s the moment it’ll hurt the most, when the person hearing it still hadn’t had the time to process it?

But I’m not mad about it! Why? Because it makes sense!

Fast forward a bit. Tony is in a wheelchair, all skin and bone, and once the initial shock wearied out, he’s angry. He’s angry because no one is giving him time to grieve, he’s angry because he just got back and he was right, dammit, he was right and no one listened to him and look what happened! It’s the anger of someone who finally got acknowledged in the worst way possible, and he doesn’t want to be right, but he is and now all he feels is guilt. It’s the worst moment possible to try and convince him to think about it or, god forbid, fight again. Which exactly what they do! They push him to speak about something he’s still not ready to speak about, and he lashes out. It’s glorious.

First of all, it fits perfectly with Steve’s character. It goes to show that on his time on the run, whatever soul searching he did was not enough. Not enough, because even if he feels any guilt for what happened when the Avengers broke apart, his instinct is still pushing Tony despite the clear warnings to step back. Even if Steve has gained some self-awareness, he still hasn’t learned to deal with it with Tony. And it shows.

And for the first time, it backfires!  

Tony can no longer hold it in and he rants straight into Steve’s face about how he has nothing. He has given everything and Steve still wants more and Tony won’t give it to him. Liar. You have any idea how powerful this is? Tony had idolized Steve for every moment until Siberia, and that image has finally crumbled. This is so strong Steve doesn’t even argue back, which is unprecedented. If there’s a moment where the realization hits Steve, this is it, and this is the only reason why I am not incredibly bitter about what happens later in this movie. If Steve had argued back, and still was able to lift Mjolnir at the end, I would have despised this movie forever. Because it’s impossible. This was the confrontation Steve was lacking, he needed to listen and learn, and he did, because the next time he interacts with Tony, five years later, his body language and words have a completely different tone! He is humbled. This needed to happen, or else Steve’s character would have been lost forever.

Well. Except for that ending. We’ll talk about that.

But Tony says no. He says no, he fucks off to live in a farm as he says he would, and now, we come to another point I need to make: Pepper Potts. I’ve mentioned before that I didn’t like Pepperony not because I don’t like Pepper, but because Pepper’s morals didn’t fit with her role in Tony’s life, as we can see from the number of times they have broken up over the course of the MCU. But this is where this movie made me surprised: they gave Tony a family in the beginning. And that changes everything.

Making Tony’s decision to quit the Avengers not one of guilt like in AoU, but of rage, actually works better. Anger is fuel, it keeps him away longer. In the time he is gone, he has a kid, and this also makes him feel better, it gives him something other to care about than the fight. This is good. Tony is staying away out of his own volition, not because Pepper asked him to or warned him that this will kill him, and that is strange for Pepper. Pepper has argued with Tony over this for a decade. Now that she gets what she wants, but not in the way she expected, it puts things in perspective: Tony will start missing being Iron Man. Because he always does. But he will force himself not to do anything, without her asking, because it’s not because of her, it’s because of himself.

That changes things. In those five years, Pepper finally sees how much it kills Tony not to act. Up close. And Tony will tell himself he doesn’t because of Pepper, because of Morgan, but Pepper knows that’s not all. She finally sees Iron Man for what he means through Tony’s eyes. This is also what makes her suit up, I am sure of it. Of course, she goes to the fight because the fight needs her, the universe needs her too, and she even risks leaving Morgan behind with the chance of dying because she knows how important this is.

But the only reason why she does this, is because she now understands. And dare I say, she had been practicing behind Tony’s back, because her flight is flawless. So she was gearing up beforehand.

Because she knew he would go back to the fight. She knew, she always knows. But this is the first time she allows it, because she gets it.

This is an incredible character development for Pepper, and honestly, I’m back to shipping Pepperony now because of it, when I had stopped by the time AoU came around. Finally, it makes sense. Finally, her ideology aligns with his, and it finally makes sense for them to be together, not because Tony is conceding something, but because she met him in the middle.

And I have nothing bad to say about Morgan Stark. I love her. 3000.

Scott comes back (let’s all say thank you to the real MVP, the rat), CASSIE IS ALIVE, I’M SO HAPPY, and as we all knew, Scott proposes that they use the Quantum Tunnel to travel back in time and fix this mess. Scott is just lovely, I adore him with all my being. I also love that we get to see how the others are faring: Steve picked up the support group, to give other people hope even if he doesn’t feel it himself, and Natasha is keeping herself busy as we all knew she would. Not only that, she is the one essentially leading the ones that are away, and she is the one they all report back to. That’s how pivotal Natasha is, and I’m glad they showed that.

And Okoye calling Natasha Nat? Carol nodding to Rhodey and telling him to be careful. It speaks of a story there. Of a time when they bonded, we just didn’t get to see. I like that.

Now, Scott proposes Time Travel and they all jump at the idea of fixing this. They are Avengers, it’s what they do. They grab Bruce, now Professor Hulk, which is just pure fanservice but I like it, because it gave Bruce that edge of confidence that comes with accepting the Hulk, that I’ve been waiting for forever, they grab Thor – and oh, this is an entire post all by itself, Thor’s character, I am not happy with it –, they grab Clint, again, a little jarring to see him going on a murder spree but stranger things have happened, and they start to assemble.

And then there’s Tony. Tony rejects the idea first, but it’s so in character that he keeps working on it even after he has said no. This is what he always does – and if Pepper hadn’t understood that in those five years, this is the moment where they would fight about it. But they don’t. Because Pepper now understands, and she knows Tony won’t be able to rest without trying to make this right. Reaffirmation of character development. Good writing. As far I’m concerned, this is amazing. So Tony fixes it, he figures out time travel, and he goes back to fulfill his mission.

Time travel. A headache, to say the least.

I’ll admit: I’m having a really hard time fully enjoying some things because the time travel element is driving me insane. I can’t help it, because as much as I was excited by the idea of seeing my favorite characters together one last time, I was so eager to see how Marvel would handle a subject so delicate as time travel, especially when I have a plot of my own and was itching to see what kind of comparisons I could make. But, OH, BOY. MARVEL AND I COULD NOT BE FURTHER AWAY FROM EACH OTHER IN THAT ASPECT.

Let’s discuss time travel.

Jokes about time travel movies aside, Endgame does make a very good point right up front: time works differently in different stories, and you need to know what kind of time travel you’re dealing with to work around it without making a mess. So, the first thing I did was try to identify what kind of time rules Endgame was following. Bruce says they can’t change the past because the past has already happened, but this is only half the information. Because if we only consider that, we don’t know what happens when they do go back and change something. If it won’t affect the present, then what will it affect?

Now, let’s see the scene where Bruce meets the Ancient One, when things get a little weird with the time travel rules. The Ancient One starts by confirming that Bruce’s past, the original MCU timeline, won’t change, but then, she says some additional information:

Every time they do something in the past that alters an event, they create a branching timeline.

This is the information we needed. These are the rules. This is what you have to know: the timeline you know, the MCU you’ve watched, doesn’t change. Other timelines will separate from it and develop on their own. If it’s hard for you to visualize, think of it as a road. The main road is the MCU, the journey we and the Avengers are traveling in. When Bruce goes back to 2012, for instance, what he does is that he carves out a separate street, from which now a new road will develop. The main road is still there. But this new road is now full of unknown possibilities, and it will certainly not develop the same.

That’s okay, if you look simply at our timeline. It doesn’t affect us, who cares what’s gonna happen in those other timelines. That wouldn’t be a problem, if they hadn’t given Steve the ending they gave. But that’s for later.

With that in mind, Bruce proposes something: they’ll take the stones, they’ll use them, and then they’ll go back and put them in the appropriate places, thus preventing branching timelines. You see: in theory, is not impossible! Their plan starts off really, really well! If they have a way of going back, taking what they need, use it, and then put it back, that’s a great plan! Thing is, tiny little detail they forgot to include: You need to put that thing back before someone notices its missing. If not, it’s too late. The alternate timeline is already created.

If you don’t know how that works, let me give you an example: Let’s suppose you are cooking something, and in a moment, you’ll need a spoon. You only have one. You’re gonna need that spoon, or else you won’t be able to finish your meal. Now imagine someone sneaks in behind you and takes that spoon. If they put it back before you notice it, before you need it, you won’t even know it was gone. You’ll finish your meal and you’ll be on time for whatever you have planned next. Your day goes on uninterrupted. But if you turn around and the spoon isn’t there, and you needed it to be there, your task is interrupted. The plan you are supposed to complete doesn’t get completed. And that changes the following events.

So you need to put it back where it belongs before someone notices its gone. If no one notices, it might as well never have happened. See what I mean?

And now, we’re gonna make an alternate timeline count. The most obvious one to me is the Power Stone timeline: Rhodey and Nebula steal it the moment Quill steals it in Morag. In the MCU timeline, as soon as Quill gets the Orb, he gets attacked, and that kickstarts a long chain of events that will eventually lead him to the Guardians. But if Quill has no Orb when he wakes up, he has nothing to trade. If Quill doesn’t have the Orb, Gamora won’t go after him. And the first Guardians movie never happens. Alternate timelines: 1.

The Aether. Rocket steals it from Jane Foster right before Malekith invades Asgard – if Malekith sees Jane, which he does, when he kills Frigga, he will know Jane no longer has the Aether within her. Which means they have until that moment to return the Aether, or else we have alternate timeline number 2.

The mess that was 2012. The Time Stone is fine, because it won’t be used until 2017/18. The Tesseract and the Scepter, however, have their own stories. The Tesseract has to return to Asgard, so it can also go back into play in 2018, when Ragnarok happens, immediately followed by IW. Problem is, Loki runs away with it. That’s immediately alternate timeline number 3. The Scepter is stolen by HYDRA and it will be shipped to Baron von Strucker, as we know from AoU, and will be used to transform Wanda and Pietro. If there’s no scepter, there’s no Wanda and Pietro. The entirety of AoU doesn’t happen. Alternate timeline 4.

The soul stone is weird. It was confirmed in an interview, but it’s hinted in IW: Red Skull is trapped in Vormir guarding the stone, and no one has ever took it. Because if the stone is not there, there’s nothing for him to guard, then he goes free. If they go to Vormir in 2014 and take the stone, Red Skull is free. Does he go back when they put it back? Like a genie to a lamp or something? How do they put it back? They just… throw it down the cliff?

Anyway. Weird.

They try to by-pass this problem saying they can go back to the exact split second they took the stones from and give them back, and there will be no problem. Thing is, if the Ancient One is to be believed, time flows continuously. The past will not freeze while it waits for them to return. If you recall as Bruce says by the ending, “it’ll be as much as he needs back there, for us, it’ll be just five seconds”. The time of the travel can be manipulated from the jumping point, the present, not the past. The Ancient One’s reality, the past, will continue to flow, because past, present and future flow all the time, forever, and again, if the stones are missed by any important event, it’s too late. Branching timeline.

Which means they can’t restore the timelines created by Loki escaping or Nebula being stuck in 2014, at least.

Anyway, time travel! They suit up, they get ready, they go back. First off: the one which closes the fastest, Clint and Natasha in Vormir.

We all knew this was gonna happen. We knew someone would die for this stone. I think it’s fair they ended up pushing Clint and Natasha for this position, because they are the most identifiable pair of the og6 besides Tony and Steve, but at the same time, I am enraged by what it causes. Very in character, having them argue about it, and then try to take the chance by force and kill themselves so the other won’t have to. No complaints about that. And to be honest, I understand what this is supposed to mean. Natasha spends most of the MCU trying to prove herself heartless and unyielding, when he have more than enough proof that that’s not true, and her sacrificing herself not only for the entire universe, but in favor to save the life of the man who once chose to spare her and give her a chance is, to be truthful, very poetic. But not all poetry, even if pretty, is satisfying.

My problem is what happens after. Natasha dies, and besides one conversation, no one does anything. She has no funeral. No picture. Not a ceremony to honor her. I’m not saying she would have wanted that, because she wouldn’t, but recognition is important. To have this moment and what? The final fight scene where the ladies gather, to somehow honor her? Nice thought, but still not enough. Natasha has been here since IM2, she deserved to have her ending acknowledged. A nod at her at the final fight scene is a nice touch, not a celebration. Natasha was a part of the original team, and not to shit on anyone who likes Clint, but she has done more for the Avengers than Clint has. From him, she deserved more. She deserved more from all of them. It would have been far more powerful to have her on the field for the final battle than this sob moment in Vormir, away from everything, away from her family.

The meaning of this scene is not lost to me, but it feels cheap. The Russo brothers have implied that we might get a funeral scene or something similar in the future, in a Black Widow movie, but that is just an excuse. There’s only so many times you can leave something open-ended and then come back later to patch it up and pass it off as a missing scene or foreshadowing. MCU has already used this trick so many times it’s exhausting. The final movie with the original team is not the time to do this.

Rhodey and Nebula. First off, may I point out how much I love James Rhodes? Okay. It’s all going just fine up until the point where Nebula’s device somehow stops working. Interference? I don’t remember exactly. What I do remember is that Ebony Maw is somehow capable of accessing 2023!Nebula’s memories as 2014!Nebula, which shouldn’t be possible, because the timeline at this point has already diverged, and 2023!Nebula is no longer 2014!Nebula’s future, but we’ll follow as it goes. Now Thanos is aware that they have visitors and captures 2023!Nebula.

This troubles me for two reasons: Nebula and Gamora. If 2014!Nebula is capable of seeing 2023!Nebula’s memories, why is Gamora so much quicker to accept the possibility of escape than Nebula? In GotG 2, Nebula expresses that her rage towards Gamora is not because she was better, but because Nebula wanted a sister – 2023!Nebula’s memories has undeniable proof that by leaving Thanos, that’s what they can become. The 2014!Nebula seems too eager to please Thanos, aching for his approval, which makes it seem like her motivation is completely different. It pushes 2014!Nebula and Gamora apart, which is very convenient, because in the end, 2014!Nebula dies, and the duo we are left with is 2023!Nebula and Gamora. Sure, it reinforces the bond between them, which will help later when 2014!Gamora replaces the Gamora that died in 2018, but that’s also not good. It feels like a recycled TWS: in GotG 3, the Guardians will be chasing down and missing a person who has no idea who they are. It doesn’t make me angry, per say, but I do find it just… okay. A little boring. Kinda wanted more from this.

Thor and Rocket in Asgard. Now, this scene I do like, because the moment Thor shares with Frigga is very, very nice. It’s the only point where Thor acknowledges how much his trauma is affecting him emotionally, and he does it in a way that he shows it’s painful to talk about it, and it’s so powerful to see a character like Thor express this out loud on screen. It’s nice. I have a lot of issues with how his change in appearance was handled as a joke and not as a serious consequence of him not handling his PTSD well, but this is perhaps the only scene where they handle it in a way I appreciated. Not even the final fight did this for me. Thor’s happiness when he realizes his behavior in the last five years has not made him any less worthy of Mjolnir is exactly what I wanted, and I’m glad we got it. I just wish they had managed to sneak in any recognition of Loki still being alive in that timeline, and how much that should have affected Thor. They should have talked about it. Loki’s death in IW is a very important thing for Thor, and ignoring it is out of character for him.

Now, I need someone to tell me how Jane reacted when Rocket just got into that room and poked her with a needle and sucked a whole ass Infinity Stone out of her. And then later, Steve will put it back. Damn, Jane Foster was not having a good day, was she?

2012, New York! Time, Mind, and Space Stones. Time is just fine, fairly easy compared to the others, and I do want to say I was very glad to see the Ancient One because I love her. And I’m also a little glad we get to see Bruce outside of the Professor Hulk form – I love him, but damn, I love Mark Ruffalo too.

Space and Mind are a little more complicated. I love that they recreated the elevator scene from TWS because it’s one of my favorites from the entire franchise, and Steve whispering hail hydra to deceive Rumlow is peak snarky-bastard Steve Rogers, which we hadn’t gotten any of since AoU. That, and the scene where Steve fights against his 2012 self is great character development! Remember when I said that the confrontation between Tony and Steve was what was missing? This is Steve reaping the results in real time. After five years and a good serving of some harsh truths to his face, Steve has now developed a sense of his own character that was lacking in the previous movies. He’s no longer a paper cutout of a character, that moves along pulled by two or three strings of the same line of thought. It’s him using his own past experiences against himself, it’s him proving that he now knows better, and he is amused by this younger version of him, who still doesn’t know how ridiculous he sounds, how much this idea he has is silly and soon enough he’ll be tired of hearing, even from himself. This is the Steve Rogers I wanted! This is what we needed. Real change. Change that even Steve himself recognizes!

It had been going so well. Oh, Steve.

On the other hand, Tony and Scott are getting the Space Stone. Tony tells Scott to give 2012!Tony a heart attack, the man is so damned dramatic, so they can get it. It backfires and Loki runs away with it. That is it’s own problem in itself, but we never see it, because alternate timelines. Now we are one stone short and no way of getting it back from 2012. So they go back even further: 1970.

And then we get Howard Stark and Peggy Carter.

A fucking can of worms, this scene.

Let me be nitpicky for a second. If I recall correctly, Peggy meets Daniel Sousa in somewhere around the late forties, since Agent Carter starts in 1946, which means that in 1970, twenty years later, she probably is already married and has children with him. The woman Steve sees through a blinder is a married woman. She has moved on. If this is the timeline Steve decides to go back to, we have a big, big problem in our hands. We can only hope we went back further, although it’s never shown, so we just have to assume! I hope he did. The alternative would be bad. But again, I’ll talk about Steve a little later. Let’s discuss Howard first.

Now. I, like many others, think Howard Stark can go fuck himself. Though it’s never said that Howard is physically abusive in the MCU like he was in the comics, it is said, by Tony himself, that Howard never told Tony he loved him. Not even that he liked him. Howard is, then, neglectful and very possibly verbally abusive. Which means that in the end, he’s still an asshole. I am not blind to what this scene represents from Tony’s perspective: Tony has always held Howard in extremely high regard, even after he passed. In IM2, when Tony discovers the new element, he attributes his discovery to Howard by saying “He’s still taking me to school”, showing how much Tony still thinks Howard can influence his life in a good way. We don’t agree with him, but this is how Tony sees his father, sometimes. His relationship with Howard is, at the very best, strained – Tony clearly thinks highly of him, but was bitter, and they were never close, by any stretch.

And then we have Tony meeting him. First of all, I can’t believe that when Tony is in his house at the beginning of this movie, when he looks at the picture of Peter, that he has a picture of Howard right next to it. Not of Maria and Howard, just Howard. How does that make any sense? Tony’s visceral reaction to learning Maria had been assassinated in CW, and now we’re not even acknowledging her, in favor of giving Howard an attempt of redemption? And fine, Tony doesn’t hold Howard accountable for any of the strain of their relationship, which is unfair, but not out of character for Tony, and I could almost let that slide – until Tony hugs Howard, and completely ignores Jarvis.

That, I will not accept.

Tony might be more affectionate now that he is also a father, and he might be more lenient with Howard’s mistakes now that he has experimented for himself the struggles of fatherhood, but this is no excuse. If Tony knows anything, is that is father was a part of a cycle of shame that constantly caused problems in the Stark family, and here Tony is, working every day to break that cycle. Tony is fully aware that Howard neglected him. And Tony has an AI named after his childhood caretaker, Jarvis. Between the two of them, Tony choosing to give Howard, the man he never fully connected with, a hug, and not even spare a nod or a glance to the one person who will inspire the AI that Tony genuinely mourns when gone, is Howard the one they chose? Marvel, we need to talk!

They get the Tesseract, possibly creating a fifth timeline, we don’t know for sure because 1970 is not a time we’ve explored in the MCU, and done! All stones collected. They bring them back, minus Natasha and with 2014!Nebula disguised as 2023!Nebula, and they make a Gauntlet. It’s hysterical to me that Tony just built a Gauntlet strong enough to hold the stones in his basement when Thanos destroyed the entire race of Dwarfs for his’, but let’s keep going. They make a Gauntlet, that changes sizes, may I point out, and Bruce uses it.

Snap, and everyone is back.

I love the tension is this scene. As we know 2014!Nebula is bringing Thanos as they do so, the fact that we don’t even get to see the people that returned before another attack strikes again is great. We don’t get any time to breathe. 2014!Thanos arrives with the entirety of his army, how, for starters, and decides that since he’s here, he’ll fucking snap this timeline too, because they’re annoying him and he wants to. His speech doesn’t really sticks to my brain because Thanos’ motivation shifts from: preventing the universe to fall for the same fate Titan fell, to I’ll kill you all because I feel like it, and it doesn’t… do anything for me. But as a villain, it’s solid logic, and it’s fine by me. So he goes, and demands the Gauntlet.

Anyone, please tell me why didn’t they shrink the goddamned thing so Thanos couldn’t fit his hand in there. It changes sizes. It’s the Ant Man thing all over again, it’s a simple solution, why won’t anyone go with the simple solution.

I don’t have much to say about the initial struggle there. The Compound is breaking, everyone is chasing the Gauntlet. Standard stuff. Nebula kills her past self, which has all sorts of metaphorical meanings that I appreciate, and while we are all fighting to follow what’ going on, Thanos sits there and waits, and it’s time.

Thor, Steve, and Tony decide to fight him right there, where he stands. Three against one.

And this is where I get confused again.

May I remind you, this Thanos has no Infinity Stones on him. Thanos takes the Power Stone from Xandar first in IW, in 2018, whereas this Thanos is from 2014. He doesn’t even have a Gauntlet yet. In IW, Tony faces against Thanos in Titan when Thanos already has four stones, and he draws blood. Not at no cost, for sure, but still – it happens. Tony’s nanotech armor stands a direct attack from the Power Stone, canonically. If that is not enough for you, Thor attacks Thanos in his final stretch of the fight in IW, when Thanos already has the Gauntlet complete, against a direct attack from it, and Stormbreaker cuts straight through it and hits Thanos in the chest so hard it’s enough to wound.

Both Thor and Tony have proven that is possible to face Thanos one-on-one.

Why the three of them together, against a less powerful Thanos, can’t?

I’m not saying I don’t understand why it happens like that. For dramatic effect, it’s better if they seem like they’re losing at first. Thor is not in the same physical state, although I’d argue that’s no excuse, since he still is and always will be the God of Thunder and being fat doesn’t change that, and Tony is older and no longer using a nano suit, although I doubt Tony would trade a suit for a lesser version at any time of the day – but these are all excuses. I can appreciate the dramatic tension of it and still be bothered by the fact they overpowered Thanos just because they could. This far down this post you already know how much I care for consistency. 2014!Thanos being more powerful than 2018!Thanos not only makes no sense, it takes away from the threat 2018!Thanos presented in IW. It undervalues the power of the Infinity Stones, in a movie about colleting Infinity Stones.

Dear God, is CA:CW all over again. There, I said it.

Anyway. Steve lifts Mjolnir.

This, at least, I can say they handled right, because as I said – if Steve’s character had been the same as it was in IW and in every other movie before, without his development in the first half of the movie, I would have hated this moment. No matter how cool it was. I don’t fully embrace it either, mind you, but not because of Steve – because of Thor, who considers this hammer an extension of himself, a tangible proof of his worth, and to have someone else lift it in a movie where Thor has been made a laughing stock for the audience for almost the entire film doesn’t sit right with me, how nonchalant he is about trading weapons with Steve in the middle of the fight, choosing to fight with Stormbreaker instead of Mjolnir; But those are my personal feelings on it, not an analysis. But yes, Steve lifts Mjolnir, and I’m thankful it happened the way it did, because the other possibilities for it were less than pleasant.

Then we get the so waited moment.

On your left.

I’ll admit, the scene with the portals opening and they all assembling? Visually stunning. So, so powerful! It is an amazing scene, and I can’t say I didn’t smile like a fool because there are so many good moments in this fight scene. This final part, more than any other, is a gift to fans, because it finally brings together iconic characters we were all dying to see again. And I don’t care who you are or what your opinion is of this movie, if you think the reunion of Tony and Peter was anything other than incredibly emotional and Tony proving that he considers Peter a son, you are wrong. I take no criticism.

Although, if anyone has an explanation to how the hell Valkyrie got that Pegasus, I would love to hear it. Just for shits and giggles.

But it had to come to an end. We knew that. We all knew. Tony raises his eyes and sees Strange lifting one finger, trembling – one chance. One. I’m gonna say it right now: I don’t think its at all unexpected that it happened the way it did. When Tony steals the Stones and makes a Gauntlet for himself, it’s exactly what I expected from him. But that doesn’t mean it’s not incredibly emotional still.

Tony is on his knees, and yet, he is the most powerful being on the universe. The power coursing through him will rip him apart, and he knows it, he accepts it, and he declares that he is Iron Man, because that is where is started, and that is where he will end. Tony always knew. He embraces it, his destiny, and the snaps his fingers knowing he won’t survive and he’s okay with that. It’s not only in character, it’s a sacrifice bigger than any other we’ve ever seen, and it’s only right that Tony do it, because he is the founder, the point where it all started, and this proves that he was the strongest avenger.

Now. Full circle doesn’t mean closure.

Marvel has a terrible habit of killing off characters when they are right at the cusp of reaching their final relief. Tony has gotten things in this movie I never expected him to get, considering how frequently Marvel used him as a piñata just because they needed someone to be guilty of something. In Endgame, Tony gets not only reunited, but an actual connection with Steve and the others, he gets the girl, he gets a family. Tony has struggled for a decade to achieve any sort of happiness, and when he finally does, they rip it from his arms. Yes, what he does is heroic, and no one can argue that is not powerful and extremely important – but imagine what kind of message it would have created if he had survived.

He would have snapped his fingers with the full intent of sacrificing himself. To die a hero.

But the universe finally acknowledges his efforts, his strength, his passion – and lets him live.

Tell me this isn’t powerful. Tell me this isn’t what he deserved.

I am not enraged by his ending – I’m left feeling hollow. I am proud, but I’m unsatisfied. Not just because he is my favorite Avenger, my favorite character of all times, and I will miss him terribly every day; But because had he lived, his final message would not have been sacrifice, it would have been hope. Reward. An honorable death is good, but sometimes, it doesn’t close a chapter. It leaves it unfinished.

Tony was loved, and he always will be. But at what cost?

His funeral was quiet, which I think it’s fitting. The experience of watching it on theatre was incredibly real because of it. Everyone in that room, including myself, was mourning. I’m glad they had the foresight of making it so. The silent messages in this scene: the original reactor, Steve and Peter to the front, close to Tony’s family, Harley being present, Bucky being present, Nick Fury being present. It’s a scene that is nearly silent and yet is speaks volumes. No matter if I don’t fully accept Tony’s ending, this scene is absolutely beautiful, and I really like it.

And for our final considerations, Steve Rogers.

Steve volunteers to take the Stones back, because while Thor decides to go on a journey with the Guardians, and hopefully we’ll be seeing more of him in the future, Steve is the only one who can now return Mjolnir to its proper time.

Steve goes up to that machine with the full intention of not coming back.

For the Stucky shippers out there, this moment caused a lot of rage because it seems like Steve didn’t even say goodbye to Bucky – and to all the others. And I get it. But I also get that Steve would have never told anyone, because this is Steve making a decision he now has full awareness is not the right one, in a manner of speaking, but he’s taking it anyway. It’s different from TWS or CACW: in those movies, Steve had been acting on his morals with no consideration that he might be wrong. Now Steve has changed. He knows what he’ll do is not only bad news in time travel terms, but it’s also a dead giveaway to his own emotional state, and that might alert people that would try to stop him. So he doesn’t tell them. He believes he has done what he could for this timeline, that he has paid his dues, honored as much promises as he could, and now, he’ll do something for himself.

Many people called him selfish for it. Others said he was only doing something his heart desired, and he earned it, and that’s not selfish.

I don’t think it’s either. I think backtracking.

Steve’s ending is… a rough topic for me. I don’t like it, bluntly put. Not because I have anything against Peggy or StevePeggy as a ship – but it doesn’t make sense to me both for Steve’s character and for the time travel rules.

Get ready, you’re about to hear me talk for a while.

For his character: Let’s consider the timeline of Steve’s romantic venues. Steve and Peggy meet in the 40s, when they share ONE kiss and nothing else, so they didn’t actually have a romantic relationship per say. Not that takes away any merit from the force of Steve’s feelings for her – if he says he loves her, then he loves her. If he says he thinks she was the love of her life, then that’s what I’ll consider when I analyze him. So as far as I’m concerned, until CA:TWS, Steve is going about his life fully aware that he has lost his chance with this woman, and eventually, he’ll be able to get over her.

Now. Let’s talk about the scene at the nursing home and Sharon Carter.

I have never shipped Sharon and Steve, but I don’t shit on anyone who does because they aren’t doing nothing wrong, as far as I’m concerned. Two years pass between A1 and TWS, time enough that Steve can experience things in the future as a separate life from his life in the 40s, and that could help him overcome his guilt. AND AT FIRST, IT SEEMS LIKE HE DOES! He congratulates Peggy on her family and despite being sad, he is happy that she was happy, and that is a big step towards getting over someone. Now, this alone would not convince me, because people lie, and Steve is the kind of guy who would suffer in silence, so this interaction, for me is not enough.

Then, let’s consider Sharon. Sharon is living as Kate for who knows how long, but I assume it’s long enough that Steve feels comfortable enough flirting with her. At this point, Steve has no idea she is Peggy’s niece, so even those who use this argument can’t say he’s acting wrong. The essence of this is that Steve is trying to move on, he is flirting, he is searching for a new love in this future.

Cue Peggy’s funeral. This is where it gets weird for me. Actually, it gets weird before, when Steve learns Sharon was deceiving him and that somehow doesn’t make him wary of her, when the entirety of TWS is Steve being at the peak of his mistrustful arc – but the funeral pushes Steve into a very uncomfortable position. He is saying goodbye to the woman he loved, and the next relationship he will have on screen is with her now-revealed niece.

There’s two ways to go about this: Either Steve isn’t over Peggy and hooked up with her niece, and that is so very weird, or either Steve is over Peggy and is hooking up with Sharon with no hanging feelings for her aunt, which allows us to comfortably believe that Steve is looking at Sharon completely separate from Peggy.

Now I ask you: knowing Steve went back to be with Peggy, how well did TWS age, in face of Endgame? Not a lot, don’t you think?

Let’s also consider Peggy. As I said, I’m working with the assumption Steve went even backwards and caught Peggy somewhere in the late 1940s, or else, he has just caused a divorce. It creates another timeline, which means that, at the very least, it won’t change the MCU as we know it. The Agent Carter series already happened, and it continues to be canon. Every movie since IM1 continues to be canon. Steve simply ceases to live in our timeline, to live in a reality he created for himself.

Now, let’s consider Bucky. By 1946, Bucky is already in HYDRA’s clutches. Bucky’s history directly affects Tony’s, which in turn, affects the entire MCU. If Steve messes with it, this timeline will change until it becomes something unrecognizable from the timeline we know. As from what I know of Steve, he will. “If I see a situation going south, I can’t ignore it”? Steve will try to find Bucky. He’ll probably find him. When he does, he’ll find HYDRA. There’s also another Steve, sitting at the bottom of the ocean, waiting to be found. Will Steve tip off his location? Will Steve send the other Steve in his stead and watch? I doubt it.

Steve creates an entire timeline to himself, and although it’s very cute we get to see him finally get the dance he wanted, what will he do after?

He will go back to the fight.

This is not moving on. It’s backtracking. They took all the progress they made with his character and threw it in the trash, because they pushed him into the same position he was before, when this all started.

Steve was not selfish, nor he was right. He’s going in circles. They had the chance to make him stay in the future, to give him something to look forward to, to push him forward in those final inches towards the finish line and again, give him closure. But they didn’t.

It’s not even out of character. This is something Steve would have done in 2014, in 2016, in 2018. Problem is, this was the only chance he had to learn that he could do something different. And then they didn’t give it to him.

Full circle doesn’t always mean closure. Remember that.

And just so we’re clear, ignoring everything that goes wrong with the timeline before Steve goes to the past, let me explain why Steve’s ending also doesn’t make sense plot-wise: According to what happens in 2012, when Loki grabs the Tesseract and immediately forms an alternate timeline, they are still able to come back to their own future because the starting point of the travel is placed there. The machine works not only as a time-traveling device, but also an anchor, that allows them to go back to their original timeline without getting stuck in the alternates. Nebula’s mishap in 2014 also confirms that, when she loses the signal of the starting point and suddenly cannot leave.

Meaning: Steve left through that machine to an alternate reality. The only way he could have gone back is through the same machine. If he doesn’t, if he just… shows up by that bench as if he’d been waiting for them to notice him, it’s one of two things: either he passes through the portal earlier and like a dramatic asshole, he sits and waits, but considering the Compound gets destroyed when Thanos attacks, he must’ve gotten then earlier. Which means the fight happened while he waited. And doesn’t that make you feel just great?

OR, which is the worst of the two: he didn’t alter anything. Somehow, his going back didn’t alter enough events to make the timeline diverge enough that they would lead to different fates. Which implies that he lets Bucky become the Winter Soldier and kill Tony’s parents. He allows SHIELD to be infiltrated by HYDRA. He allows everything. And it’s horrible I can’t even accept as a possibility.

I know it may not seem like it, but I enjoyed this movie, in my own way. Don’t take this as me being bitter or furious – this is just how my brain works. I analyze things. Looking at this movie as an independent experience, it’s very fun and very emotional, and it certainly hits all the nostalgia points a long-time MCU fan could want. I’m happy about that. I will treasure the parts I liked with all my strength, because this was the end of an era, an era I’m glad I got the chance to be a part of. I don’t want to erase it from my mind. It belongs in our timeline now, and as we all know, part of the journey is the end.

But as someone who has dedicated a long time to this story, to this entire universe, I look at the big picture. And some pieces simply don’t fit. I will not stop questioning them just for the sake of nostalgia or conformism, because the experience created by a universe as large as this lasts a lifetime. Fandoms live on. We live on. And isn’t that the entire purpose of the thing? Of what we do, as content creators for a fandom? We keep it alive, we cherish the good stuff, we fix what’s broken?

It’s what I like to do. If nothing else, Endgame will keep me alive. Will keep us alive.

What you take from it it’s up to you.

THAT WAS SO FREAKISHLY LONG, OH MY GOD. To the anon who asked for this, I am so sorry, this is way more than what you bargained for, but there you have it. My thoughts on it. And hey, if you have something to say about it, if you were crazy enough to get this far, let me know. I’m open to talk about it. However you feel about Endgame, I hope you took something from it like I did, and hopefully, I could give you some food for thought.

Congratulations if you made it this far into my long ass rant. Maybe I’ll see you in another one :p

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Above The Party

Sokkla Week Day 1: Awkwardness

Azula, trying to escape the party scene, walks in on Sokka changing. 

A/N: due to real life circumstances I’m posting this one a day early. Officially, Sokkla mini-week begins tomorrow. I may or may not be able to reblog content posted tomorrow either. It really just depends atm, but I’m gonna try.

She isn’t at all familiar with the place. Frankly, she doesn’t know why Zuko has even brought her along. It wasn’t as though it was an event of any importance. No, it was little more than a fancy get together hosted by Earth King Kuei. Azula isn’t one for parties, especially not after her first experience with one. Political gatherings, sure, but this…this is just for entertainment. ‘To relive stress’, as Zu-Zu put it. She couldn’t see it soothing any of her tension. In fact, she had every intention of ditching the party scene at first opportunity.

 She sticks around only long enough to seem polite, which entailed some socializing over an appetizer platter or two. Mostly she sips at a bottle of peach sake. It sooths her nerves and takes some of the edge off. A little further into the drink than she had intended, she worries that her tongue will become too lax and excuses herself.

 For a moment—she likes to blame it on the drink—she forgets that she isn’t at home. The Earth Kingdom palace is larger than she has anticipated and she thinks that she may be lost. No, she knows that she is lost, she is wandering rather aimlessly. She doesn’t even recall where she had planned on sneaking off to. That’s right, she tells herself, she’d forgotten where she was and for it she had planned on finding her bedroom. She supposes she’ll just have to find another, hopefully with a balcony. Balconies seem to be the place to be if one loses interest in the party itself.

 She travels to the third floor and pushes on the first door she sees, only after having done so, she considers what she might find.  Granted she hadn’t heard any sort of racket coming from behind the door. So she assumes that she is safe.

The room itself is quiet, indeed so she finds the bed and drops onto it, laying with her hair fanned out and her hands tucked under her head.

 The moment of quiet doesn’t last, she hears a rustling from across the room. She bolts up again to see Sokka’s bear ass. His pants and underpants are only half up. His face is as flushed as hers, maybe even more so. He quickly scrambles to tug them up the rest of the way.

 “Wha-what are you doing?” There a very few things that can catch Azula off guard, and he has discovered one of them.

 “I spilled some juice on my pants so I ran up here to change!” Everything about his tone is on the defensive. “Why are you here?” And that fell on the accusatory side.

 Azula sighs, trying to cool her cheeks. “I don’t much like social parties, like this.” She confesses. “I came up here for some quiet.”

 “You had to pick this room?” Sokka sputters, “you’re a royal, you’re supposed to know about knocking.”

 Azula shrugs. “I’m a royal, I go where I please. I don’t need permission.” She replies with a dismissive wave. “And besides, I didn’t hear anything so I figure this room wasn’t…occupied.” She pauses. “Not like the others anyways.”

 Sokka narrows his eyes. “I guess.”

 She crosses her arms. Sitting in silence, it doesn’t take long for her eyes to wander. He is still topless. Topless and in very good shape, with the kind of abs worth trailing her fingers over. A sculpted chest…

She shakes her head, what is she thinking? He’s Sokka, the water peasant’s brother. The idiot. Again she tries to blame the sake for tainting her vision and bringing out her libido.

But he isn’t really, she knows it. She just needs an extra push to keep herself in check. She picks up his shirt and thrusts it at him, “have some decency.”

 Sokka blinks. “Decency? I don’t know if you know this, but men run around topless all the time.”

 “Great for men.” Azula mutters, only because she knows that he has a point. “Just put your shirt back on, before you make things weird.”

 “I make things weird?” He points to himself. “You made things weird when you barged in here without knocking.”

 Another good point. She was an a losing streak—a petty, trivial losing streak—but a losing streak no less. “Well perhaps you should have put a sign up. Or, if you are too uncultured to write, you should have spoke up when you heard the door open. You know, instead of letting me get cozy.” She smiles smugly because it is, in her opinion, a satisfactory argument.

 He opens his mouth only to close it a few times and she knows that she has won this silly verbal spat. Her mind goes back to her initial task. She tosses the shirt at him. “Put it on.”

 Sokka rolls his eyes and tugs it over his head. “Happy?”

 She nods. But a part of her actually is not satisfied. That part still wants to take in his sculpted abs and toned arms. “Quite.”

 He is staring at her now and she doesn’t know how to feel about it. She averts her gaze, brushes a sweep of hair over her shoulder, and pretends to pick some fuzz off of her top. She finds herself hoping that she at least looks presentable in his eyes.

She thinks that her face might have colored again and it frustrates her. She didn’t think she had drank that much.

 .oOo.

 Sokka doesn’t think that he has ever seen Azula so flustered. He can smell a faint tinge of sake and he wants to blame the drink for the pink in her cheeks, but somehow he knows that it is an old fashioned blush. Despite it all he feels bad for making her feel so awkward and out of sorts. Granted he is rather embarrassed himself.

He let her see him with his pants half-down.

 He stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks at the ceiling. When he finds the courage to look back down, she is sitting with her arms propping her up, weight shifted more-so onto the right arm. She crosses one leg over the other and seems to stare at her lap as she taps one foot. Her cheeks look less pink now. He can’t help but note that she does look rather lovely tonight. She looks nice with her hair down. And the gown she has chosen is rather elegant. It suits her well and accents her figure. It is fuller than he remembers, more grown up. Her face is some sharper too.

But her expression.

That is notably softer. It takes him a moment to realize, but he thinks that, that is why she looks extraordinarily wonderful tonight. It is because she doesn’t have such an evil presence about her. She, for the situation, almost seems relaxed.  

She crosses her arms again, holding them against her middle as opposed to her chest.

 Against his better judgment, he tucks her bangs behind her ear and brushes his thumb over her exposed cheek. He can’t quite believe that she is letting him do it. So when he feels her fingers wrap around his wrist, he expects a lash out. But she simply holds his wrists and stares at him. He doesn’t think that she knows what to do next.

 Briefly he thinks of kissing the princess, but before—and perhaps mercifully—before he gets the chance, she effectively ruins the mood.  “Just so we’re clear I’m not going to be that person.” She declares. “I’m not getting knocked up at a party.”

 Sokka rolls his eyes, the woman really is hellbent on making things as weird as she can. Truly she must have been a thrill downstairs. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything like that with you!”

 He can’t possibly fathom why Azula looks so smug. He senses that it would be a good time to get back to the party scene. But she still has him by the wrist and the smug look is gone. It takes him a second to realize that she is rubbing her thumb over his wrists. But again, she seems to be at a loss as to what comes next.

 He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable so with a sigh he asks, “so you up for going back to the party or…?”

 Azula cocks her head and withdraws her hand. “I think that I might be.”

 .oOo.

 She doesn’t exactly know what is going on in her head. The feeling is foreign and somewhat disorienting. In avoiding the first, she has put herself in another, different situation she doesn’t know how to navigate. She is grateful that he hasn’t taken advantage of that. He takes her hand and leads her down the hall. She thinks that it might be a good idea to jerk away, but she feels safer as they are. She admits to herself that she is a little lost here and it is reassuring to have a familiar face so close. Even if the face belonged to someone she hadn’t particularly gotten along with in the past. They don’t say much to one another for a while. Not until they reach the second floor. Finally Azula finds the courage to thank him for respecting her boundaries, as grey as she had made them.

 He smiles. “It’s no big deal.”

 She lets the conversation drop again and it takes until the first floor to set her pride enough to the side to thank him for accompanying her back to the party. She didn’t want to return alone. Even with a rekindled friendship, Mai and TyLee weren’t much use here. They had conversed in the beginning but eventually Mai had gone off with Zuko and TyLee’s attention was tugged by a herd of boys.

 He nods. “Yeah, no one likes to be alone at a party. You don’t mind talking with Aang, Toph, and Katara, do you?”

 She shrugs, “I suppose that it can’t hurt.”

 “Great!” He says boldly, “I’ll re-introduce you.”

 That was just one more thing that was oddly reassuring. She is glad that things took a turn from awkward to something rather promising.

[soul-music-is-life]

I'm kind of with you on the lackluster Pilot episode of "The Perfectionists". I don't know whether or not I'm into it either. And not because of Emison (I'm more of an Emaya fan myself). I just thought it was cheesy and boring. I don't know if I should keep watching. What about you?

I have actually gotten several asks about whether I plan tokeep watching and why/why not. So I’m going to answer it here and just referback to it if it keeps coming up.

I don’t mind the asks at all. I love conversing, but because of the volume of asks about thisparticular opinion this is another long driveling post, and I’m sorry. You can mute my ass if you’re sick of me. I get it.

First of all OP, thank you for not ripping into me about notliking it. Also, Emaya had my heart. I loved them, too. Maya deserved better.

Second, this is a full-scale look at the show from a critic’svantage point. I watched the first episode twice because I thought maybe I hadn’tgiven it a fair shake the first time because I was in a weird mood. But even onthe second viewing I found a lot more that I disliked than I liked. Lots ofpeople are going to disagree, and that’s fine. Just don’t @ me. I’m legit notlooking for that. I’m just a girl (cue NottingHill music) standing in front her ask inbox asking those askers to love her.

Will I keep watching? I doubt it. Given that it only got a10-episode order and The Pilot wasn’t that interesting to me, I don’t see myselfsitting through it for 9 more episodes. My reasoning is two-tiered. Part of itis disinterest and the other part is the creative aspect of it in the media. Saddleup for my “truths” (I can’t remember who said that. Marlene maybe). I gave it afew days and considered it, and what I ended up with was this:

1) I’m just not into it. For the same reasons you (OP) stated.But I’ll also add that for me…it was predictable. I called the twists longbefore they happened. If I’m already doing that in The Pilot I can guarantee I’dbe doing that as the show went on. I’m like 93% sure I know exactly how it’sgoing to end this season. I tend to do that to myself. Being a writer suckssometimes. Because you see the way things are going to go from the beginning. You just have to decide if you want to go on the journey anyway.

2) While the characters were likable (I was surprised by howmuch I liked Ava), they are a bit one-sided and kind of bland (except I foundNolan’s duality extremely intriguing). There is the argument that can be madehere that they will grow, and I do agree with that. But when I watch a show’sPilot I need to care about at least one character to see what’s going to happenand where they are going to go (In PLL it was Em/Aria for me). None of the characters in TP did that for me (noteven Mona and Alison, which surprised me, because I’ve been super-hype for thisshow not only for them, but for the newbies, too).  

3) The plot (so far) just feels like a rehash of everysingle YA mystery novel/TV show that is hot right now. And I am aware that thisis based loosely on exactly that (Sara’s series), but I think maybe I’ve justbecome desensitized to the same cheesy soap-opera-y murder mystery plots. Or perhaps I’m just desensitized to this particular kind of storytelling. It doesn’tfeel new and different to me and it was very strangely paced with too muchgoing on and not enough time to care about it. It just felt disjointed. Everythingabout the first episode just fell flat for me.

4) And lastly, yes, I’d say there is a tiny part of me…likemaybe…6% that doesn’t want to watch because I’m not about that off-screenEmison drama. I knew it was going to happen and I’m not mad about them beingsplit. I’m disappointed (hears “that’sjust ‘mom speak’ for mad!” echoing somewhere) that the marketing team isusing it for ratings. When you have decent writing you don’t need to play games like that to try andget viewers. It would be one thing to be decisive about what happened toEmily/Alison (Split them. Don’t split them. I don’t care. Just make a fuckingdecision because you’re creating a war between fans and you know it). It’sanother thing entirely to draw it out because you need people to watch and talkabout it.

I am also particularly bothered by hearing the excuse (several times by MK) that “Shay was busy”because Marlene literally planned the spin-off in season 6 (confirmed by bothher and Sasha). It. Was. Planned. I say this as a critic and not an Emison fan: Everything about the way they’ve tried to use Emison to generate buzz was underhanded. And saying shit like that opens the door for people to hate on Shay, and that’s really not cool.

Personally, I think it speaks volumes that the producers felt the need to addthe off-screen drama on top of the really decent plot they already had. Theycould have kept it unproblematic with simple writing choices and less inflammatorycommentary. They could have left the PLL drama in the PLL-verse and given thespotlight to the new drama. I don’tagree with creating old off-screen drama with zero chance of satisfactoryresolution all in the name of ratings. I hate marketing shit like that. It’s acheap amateur tactic and it turns me off.

I think the show could have been something special had theynot marketed it as PLL. But they did, so of course there was a certainexpectation. And of course there is some backlash. Because there are these twoworlds that have nothing to do with each other and so far I don’t feel likethey’ve blended it together well. For me, it was like watching PLL, but with less magic and less chemistry. If I had to describe it I’d say it feels alot like a recipe where you’re just throwing a bunch of ingredients into a bowlwith no idea what you’re making and you’re just hoping it’ll be edible by theend. Rather than focusing on the new universe the marketing team chose to focuson Ali/Mona’s new world and the drama that comes with them. And to me that almost says they don’t have faith that TPwould have been able to stand on its own without the PLL universe. Part of methinks I’d be more interested if this had been a completely fresh start. I wasactually more compelled by the newbies than I was Alison/Mona (though I adorethem, too).

That being said, I really wish the best for the cast/crew. I’llcontinue to watch the behind the scenes games/cast antics. I’ve been a fan ofSasha since I discovered PLL (everything about her seems very sweet and genuine andjust positive all around). And Janel as Mona was one of my favorite castingchoices of all time. In fact, I think my very first PLL post here was praisefor Janel. I’ve been following Sydney since she was a smol lil bean on theDisney Channel (and loved her in Tia’s Mowry’s show “Instant Mom”). Sofia seemslike a sweet girl, and I have enjoyed her other work. And Eli honestly justseems like he’d be a cool dude to kick back and have a drink with (is he evenold enough to drink? Jesus, they’re all babies). I love them all. In fact, I’veenjoyed the fun behind the scenes stuff more than I enjoyed the show. I’dwatch a reality show of them all day. That’s where I’ll get my fill. Watching them being goofy.

Final verdict: No, the show will not be getting my views. I’llprobably just watch the absurdity of Riverdale instead. Cheryl is fucking wild,y’all. And I’m kind of living for mean-dark-snarky Betty. And Sweet Pea is like…myfavorite character ever. My dumb asshole child.

As far as whether or not youshould watch it, I have no idea. I have a lot of people asking me my opinion onthat (which, I’m like the worstperson to ask, please don’t give me that responsibility. I don’t even likebeing responsible in the real world. I literally had a cookie and Cocoa Puffsfor dinner). I will say that if you’re only watching for Emison then I’d changethe channel. Because guaranteed it’s just going to make you rage. You’re not going to get anything out of it. Fill yourevenings with something more pleasant and positive for you.

And be nice to others on social media. At the end of the day, it’s only a show. You like it or you don’t.