#the top message is from mel and i’m going to think about it forever

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XXXIII

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

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Word-count: 3.4k+

A/N: i would like to personally thank every person who got bored during quarantine and found my blog. i see you. i love you. thank you for reading and sticking around💕

The McCalls and the Stilinskis had always been such close parallels of one another that you’d gotten used to your families doing things together and making progress at the same time. Scott and Stiles started school at the same time, you never very far behind. Claudia died before Raf left, but it felt the same in the long run. Family dinners every Thursday, Noah teaching each of the kids to drive in the Jeep, and Mel helped you all with your homework. 

Two families, but not really. 

That’s why it was so weird that Noah was going out on a date. His first date in maybe ten years. With Lydia’s mom. 

“Oh, I should’ve gotten a haircut,” Noah mumbled as he checked himself out in the mirror. 

“Well, you know, someone your age should be happy you still have hair to cut,” Stiles said, pushing the mirror down so Noah would pay attention to him. 

“I think you look great,” Scott said. 

You took a step forward and fixed Noah’s tie for him. With a smile, you said, “Yeah, like a silver fox minus the silver.” 

“Well, thank you, children I should have had,” Noah said pointedly. 

Two families, but not really.

Stiles kept trying to pry information out of his dad so you moved out of their way as they bickered. At least that wasn’t changing anytime soon. You and Scott were still making jokes about how long it’d Noah to reach his limit and leave for his date early when you heard some yelling from the bullpen. It was so venomous that you thought your ears would bleed. 

The four of you left the privacy of Noah’s office to find Parrish and Clarke holding back some kid who was trying to make a run for the office. The kid was threatening to kill Noah.

“Donovan, if you think that shocks me, remember that it was well-documented in your Anger Expression Inventory,” Noah said, clearly unfazed by the death threats. “Deputies, escort the prisoner out.” 

“No, I’m not angry like I’m gonna throw a brick through your window,” Donovan said, still trying to break through the deputies’ grip. “I’m angry like I’m going to find you, like I’m going to get a knife, and like I’m going to stab you with it until you’re dead. And when you look at me and you ask why, remember right now. Because this is why.” 

His heart rate didn’t rise or drop as he threatened. It was steady the entire time; like a drum keeping time to a death march. He wasn’t bluffing; Donovan really believed that he was going to kill Noah. 

“Wow, that was awesome,” Stiles said next to you. He had his arms crossed in front of him and was wearing the least interested, most sarcastic expression in his arsenal. But his heartbeat said something else. “That was awesome, really. That was great. Wanna do one more?” 

Donovan’s heartbeat was starting to rise. 

You put a hand out to catch one of Stiles' gesturing hands to get him to stop. It's not that you were afraid of Donovan, but everything about the situation felt wrong. His hand was moving so you settled on the top of his arm. “Stiles-”

“Come on, give us another one,” Stiles went on. “Maybe like Christopher Walken this time, you know?” He finally noticed your hand and folded his hand over his chest again to hold yours. “Okay, you know what? It’s fine. You’ll have plenty of time to work on it when you’re in your tiny, little cell. You know? Just stuck there. Forever.”

Donovan faked turning around for a second before doubling back and lunging for Stiles. You pulled Stiles behind you as Scott and Noah moved in front of him and Parrish and Clark restrained Donovan. He was still yelling about how he was going to kill Noah as he was being dragged out of the station.

You hoped he’d rot. 

The three of you weren’t even five minutes out of the station when Kira called about Lydia finding a body. Stiles made an only-slightly illegal u-turn and drove you guys to the scene - Donovan’s police transport van. Your blood ran cold as the bodies were wheeled past you and you reached for Stiles’ hand. 

Noah waved you guys over to him. “Scott, you saw this kid - Donovan. He … he wasn’t like you, right?” “I don’t think so,” Scott said. 

“Unless he knows how to hide his scent,” Stiles said. 

“Well, human or otherwise, this kid might have just murdered his lawyer and mortally wounded two officers,” Noah said. Deep frown lines were already etched into his forehead, despite only being at the scene for five minutes. “We’ve got an APB out on him, but you think you can find him faster?”

“I can try,” Scott said. 

“I’ll stay in case he doubles back,” you said, with a nod in his direction. 

Something caught your eye in the rafters of the alleyway and you busied yourself trying to focus on it amidst the flashing lights and police chatter. It felt familiar, sinister. But it disappeared before you got the chance to find it. 

Stiles touched your arm lightly, drawing you back to all the noise. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you lied. “Just a bit on edge. It felt like …” 

“Like what?” Stiles asked.

You looked back up to that spot in the rafters. “Like Theo.”

---

“Tracy wasn’t just having trouble sleeping,” Lydia said for the second time. “It was a real disorder. It was night terrors.”

“Right, well, now she’s the night terror,” Stiles said. “Especially since no one can find her.”

“Okay, I know we’re all tired and miserable-” Scott paused to look at Mason, who was completely enthralled by the conversation. “Except for you.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. This is all just mind-blowing,” Mason said. He looked over at Kira. “You’re a Kitsune. I don’t even know what that is!”

“I’m still learning,” Kira said with a smile.

“Liam, we said you could tell him, not invite him to the inner circle,” Stiles said.

“Uh, I’m in the inner circle?” Mason asked. 

It made you laugh. Mason reminded you of a much sweeter, much more curious version of Scott when he was younger. Also much less annoying.

“No!” 

“Look, guys,” you said, putting your hands on the bus as you thought over how to phrase it. “Tracy is dangerous, no doubt, but she’s a lone wolf. Lone wolves don’t survive. We have to find her.” 

“One lone serial-killing wolf,” Malia said

“Uh, she only killed one person, you know,” Stiles said, tilting his head. “The other two were just mauled.” 

“So what do we do once we find her?” you asked. 

“I say we put her down,” Malia said, almost without hesitation. 

“No way,” you said. “Tracy isn’t in control. You guys didn’t put me down when I wasn’t in control.” 

“Uh, I tried,” Malia said. “Remember?” 

“Vividly,” you said in a low voice.

“Woah.” Mason’s sweet little voice broke through the tension. “Intense.”

Yeah, that was one way to describe it. It was intense as you butted heads with Malia and intense when Liam pulled the fire alarm so you could get Tracy out of the school. Intense when something metallic started pouring out of her mouth. 

“Now, this silvery substance at her lips ...” Deaton said quietly. “It’s not something I’ve seen before. It looks almost like mercury.”

Tracy started moving on the exam table and everyone took a step back except for you. 

“Can’t you just give her a shot of something?” Malia asked.

“She doesn’t look to be in any pain,” Deaton said.

“I meant a shot to kill her,” Malia said.

You turned your back on Tracy so you could get a good look at Malia before you started arguing. “Would you stop talking about killing her? She's not that different from you.”

“Exactly,” Malia said. “She wouldn't hesitate to kill me.”

“Regardless of intent, I generally prescribe to a code of ethics that frowns upon such measures,” Deaton said.

“Yeah, Malia, you know we’re not going to do that,” Scott said. 

“Well, how do you guys know she’s not gonna kill us?” Malia asked. 

“She makes a pretty decent point,” Stiles said hesitantly. He went on, despite your protests, “Either way, eventually I’m going to have to let my dad know she’s here.”

“Agreed,” Deaton said. “And while I may argue against euthanasia, I’m not opposed to a little …” he took a bottle off one the counters and unscrewed the lid. “Extra protection.”

You watched Deaton scatter the mountain ash and your breath hitched. This was your first time actually having to worry about the barrier; your first time being trapped by it. You tried to ignore the trapped feeling as Malia moved around to investigate and just focused on Tracy. You wiped some of the mercury off her chin. 

Deaton called you and Scott to hold Tracy down for him so he could try some more tests. He used a scalpel to slice into her arm like you’d seen him do with Derek all those months before, but nothing except Tracy’s breathing changed until the scalpel snapped.

“I think you’re gonna need a bigger blade,” Stiles said, taking a step toward the table.

Scott took a break to check his messages and you helped Deaton flip Tracy over when he found something in her neck. Scott was talking about the condition of the driver from the attack, but you were too focused on Tracy to pay attention to him. Her back seemed fine - until something started moving around her spine. 

“I think I know what she is,” Stiles said. 

“Would you care to enlighten the rest of us?” Deaton asked. “Because this doesn’t look too good.”

The others came closer as Deaton prodded the movement under Tracy’s skin. It was sickening to look at but you couldn’t look away. And then it burst open, spraying blood all over the room. It was electric. Metallic. You were too busy trying to scrub it off your face to notice what everyone was staring at on the table. And then you got sliced across the face by a tail. 

You tried to grab Tracy’s ankle as she landed on her feet, but the paralysis came too quickly. All you could do was watch her break through the mountain ash barrier and run out the door.

“How did she do that?” you asked, panic rising in your voice. Being paralyzed was horrible, too close to not being in control of your body. You hated it.

“I don’t know,” Deaton said. “It’s a barrier no supernatural creature should be able to cross.”

“Scott did it,” Stiles said.

“Once, but it nearly killed me,” Scott said. 

“We should’ve killed her!” Malia growled.

“Meanwhile, she’s probably on her way to killing someone else,” Stiles said.

“Can you guys, please, stop talking about killing people?” you asked. Your breathing was labored. You needed to move. 

The blood on your face didn’t do anything to ease your panic, but at least you weren’t the only one freaking out. Scott and Deaton were both telling Malia to focus on healing, and she was getting just as angry as you were anxious. 

The nerves faded, slightly, as you listened to Deaton explain how to focus your healing. Again, the only thing that put you at complete ease was listening to Stiles’ heartbeat - which was sky-high. It crashed in a few minutes, despite the uncomfortable position he was in, giving you a small sense of comfort. 

When Jackson was still the kanima, Derek had started training the wolves to heal from paralysis. Pain was the key. Using Stiles’ heartbeat to drown out the noise, you focused on shifting your claws, and - if that didn’t hurt enough - sank them into your side. If you remembered right, the fraction of time this shaved off the wait wasn’t even worth all the effort, but you had to do something.

Blood, sweat, and tears aside, you weren’t the first one to start moving. Malia was. First, it was the tips of her fingers and then the rest of her hand, movement slowly snaking through the rest of her body. It made you feel dangerously jealous, but it also made you fiercely protective. You wouldn’t let Malia kill Tracy.

Stiles was yelling at Malia to wait for the rest of you, and Scott was reminding her to save Tracy. You were still trying to move but that didn’t mean you couldn’t let Malia know that there would be hell to pay if she killed Tracy.

Malia ignored you as she dragged herself out of the animal clinic.

The minutes that ticked past until you could move again were dreadful. You’d finally started moving again when Theo showed up. He tried to pull you up and you slapped his hand away, telling him to get Scott so you could get Stiles.

It was still weird having the strength to lift him. Your whole body ached from the paralysis, tingling and full of static, but you could still hold up all of Stiles’ weight in your arms like it was nothing. The tear on his chest looked painful. He was struggling to stand, his face accidentally knocking into the side of yours as the two of you slumped over to the exam table. 

“How did you find us?” Scott asked. 

“‘Cause you work here,” Theo said. “I heard about Tracy. I’ve been looking for you.”

When Stiles could lean against the table on his own, you moved over to help Deaton up. “Why did you look for us?” you asked

“I want to help,” Theo said. No one said anything but you did exchange some looks. “Let me help. It doesn’t have to mean I’m a part of the pack or that you’ve accepted me or anything like that. It just means I can help catch this girl.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but Stiles didn’t make the same efforts. Scott, on the other hand, was actually thinking it over. 

“Scott,” Theo pushed. “I can help you.” 

“Scott, you can’t seriously be considering this,” Stiles said. 

“Guys, whatever we’re doing, we need to do it now,” you said. “Tracy isn’t in control and Malia is … a wildcard, okay? We need to go.”

“She’s right,” Scott said. It sounded like he was still in pain. “We need to go. Now.”

Stiles got to the station as fast as he could, but you still felt like it wasn’t fast enough. Scott led you guys through the already ajar door to the bullpen. All the blood inside sucker-punched you. The lights were out and deputies were strewn across the office space. Scott rushed to where Clark was checking on Noah and Stiles and Theo rushed to the office where Lydia and Kira were. For a moment there was too much happening for you to think. 

Then something clicked and your legs started moving for you.

When you got to the basement, Malia was standing over Tracy’s body and you had her up against the wall in an instant, one arm digging into her neck and your other hand pinning her down. 

“It wasn’t me!” Malia wasn’t even trying to fight back. “Y/N, I didn’t kill her.” 

You pushed forward reflexively before letting go and letting out a frustrated breath. “Then what the hell happened?” 

You knelt down to check if there was anything you could do for Tracy, if there was any hope that you could save her. She was still warm, but her heart wasn’t beating and she wasn’t breathing. Mercury was on her lips.

“There were these people-” Malia sounded confused, like this was something that happened years ago instead of seconds. The others came rushing in while she was trying to think of the words. “They had masks. Um, there- there were three of them. I think there were three.” 

She thought there were three? Malia seemed too distraught to be lying, but you honestly weren’t sure anymore. 

All you were sure about was Tracy lying dead on the floor, scales on one side of her face and claws on her hands. She should have started changing back like the wolves did.

“She’s not changing back,” Deaton said, coming to the same conclusion you did. “We need to get her out of here.” 

“What- Hey, absolutely not,” Noah said as he came closer. “This is a crime scene. We wait for the coroner.” 

“I think the coroner might be very confused by this girl’s severed reptilian tail,” Deaton said.

“I don’t care.” 

“You should,” Deaton said. “Unless you’re prepared to hold a press conference announcing the presence of supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills.” 

“Dad, he’s right,” Stiles said. 

“Maybe at the clinic we can figure out how to change her back,” Scott said. “Then we call the coroner?” 

“There is a line- There’s a line that we have to draw,” Noah said, shaking his head.

“Dad, you’ve already crossed it,” Stiles said. “More than once.”

Deaton tried again and between him and Stiles, something got through to Noah. He said you could take Tracy. Scott scooped her up in an instant and Stiles took your hand in his as you rushed out behind him.

You didn't want to leave Tracy again, but she was dead and Lydia was dying. Lydia would always come first. The five of you got to the hospital as soon as you could, but Lydia was already in surgery. Kira made sure that your mom knew that Lydia had been cut by Tracy’s tail, but then it was just the waiting. And Malia bringing up the men in masks again. Who may or may not have been made up.

Eventually, any chance of you being able to see Lydia passed and you all went home for the night. 

Stiles wanted to add the day’s event to his conspiracy board the instant you got back home, but you dragged him to the bathroom to clean up that cut on his chest. All you needed was for him to get a chest infection on top of all this. He took off his shirt while you dug around for the first aid kit. 

“Honestly, it’s not that bad,” Stiles said as you turned around. “Your boy Lahey’s done way worse … Hey, what are you- what’s that look for?” 

You knelt down in front of him, hand touching his stomach lightly. There was a scar nestled between two birthmarks, long and thin, only an inch or two long and jagged at the sides. The kind of scar you get when someone stabs you.  

“Oh,” Stiles said softly. “You know that’s not your fault, right?” 

“I never actually said sorry for that.” Your thumb traced the pale line. “I’m really sorry, Stiles. For all of it.” 

He gave you a sad smile and covered your hand with his. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a small kiss to it. “I know.”

“How about we get you cleaned up, huh?” you asked. 

You disinfected the wound and put a bandage over it, to which Stiles told you you were being dramatic and you told him to take it up with management. The two of you fell into your familiar routine of getting ready for bed to get some sleep in before Melissa came to get you on her way home from work. Every night you hoped she’d forget and you could just stay here. 

“Hey, you still awake?” Stiles whispered after half an hour of lying in the dark together. 

You rolled over so you were facing him, almost nose to nose, and searched for his hands under the covers. “I might be.” 

“I can’t stop thinking about what happened today,” Stiles said. He lifted his hand to the side of your face and ran it through your hair. “I don’t know what happened.”

“I know. Tracy and Malia …” You sighed and shifted around where you lay. “It’s crazy. That thing about men in masks? I don’t think she killed her but-” 

“Hey, we had demons in masks trying to kill me like a year ago,” Stiles said. “I guess crazier things have happened.” 

“I guess,” you said softly. “I have a feeling this is only the start of it though.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

Stiles moved closer and kissed your forehead. He cradled your head and you moved in closer. You fell asleep like that, tangled up and addled with too many thoughts in your head, but at least you felt safe for the first time all day.

Part 34

Tagged: @ietss​

[ryanmeft]

Ryan’s Favorite Films of 2019

A stuttering detective,

A top hat-wearing vamp

A forced-perspective war,

A bit of Blaxploitation camp

Prisoners on a space ship

Having sex with bears

A writer goes remembering

Whenever his pain flares

  A prancing, dancing Hitler

A gambler high on strife

Here will go cavorting with

A mom who becomes a wife

A family plot with many threads

Three men against their own

A stuntman and his actor

A mobster now quite alone

Doubles under the earth

Two men in a tall house

Are here to watch a woman who

Is battling with her spouse

A family’s plans for their strong son

Go awry one night

A man rejects his country

Which is spoiling for a fight

 A house built by his grandpa

(Maybe; we’re not sure)

Looks out upon three prisoners

Whose passions are a lure

  All these are on my list this year

It’s longer than before

Because picking only ten this time

Was too great of a chore

  What are limits anyway?

They’re just things we invented

I don’t really find them useful

So, this year, I’ve dissented

  You may have noticed this time out

That numbers, I did grant

Promise they’ll stay in this order, though?

Now that, I just can’t

  I’m always changing my mind

Because, after all, you see

Good film is about the heart

And mine’s rather finicky

  There are a lot more I could name

(And I’ll change my mind at any time)

For now, though, consider these

The ones I found sublime

 20. Motherless Brooklyn

I’ve got a (hard-boiled) soft spot for 90’s neo-noirs like L.A. Confidential, Red Rock West and Seven, and Edward Norton’s ‘50’s take on Jonathan Lethem’s 90’s -set novel can stand firmly in that company.

19. Doctor Sleep

There’s something about Stephen King’s best writing that transcends mere popularity; his work may not be fine literature, but it is immune to the fads of the moment. So, too, are the best movies based on that work. This one, an engaging adventure-horror, deserved better than it got from audiences.

18. Jojo Rabbit

There was a time when the anything-goes satire of Mel Brooks could produce a major box office hit.  Disney’s prudish refusal to market the film coupled with the dominance of franchises means that’s no longer the case. If you bothered to give Jojo a shot, though, you got the strange-but-rewarding experience of guffawing one moment and being horrified the next.

17. By The Grace of God

I’d venture this is the least-seen film on my list; even among us brie-eating, wine-sniffing art house snobs, I rarely hear it mentioned. Focusing on the perspectives of three men dealing with a particularly heinous and unrepentant abusive priest and the hierarchy that protects him, it’s every bit as disquieting and infuriating as 2015’s Oscar-winning Spotlight.

16. Waves

You think Trey Edward Shultz’s Waves will be one thing---a domestic drama about an affluent African-American family (and that in and of itself is a rarity). Then it becomes something else entirely. It addresses something movies often avoid: that as life goes on, the person telling the story will always change.

15. Transit

You’re better off not questioning exactly where and when the film is set (it is based on a book about Nazi Germany but has been changed to be a more generalized Fascist state). The central theme here is identity, as three people change theirs back and forth based on need and desire.

14. American Woman

Movies about regular, working class, small-town American usually focus on men. This one is about a much-too-young mother and grandmother, played brilliantly by Sierra Miller, dealing with unexpected loss and the attendant responsibilities she isn’t ready for. 

13. Marriage Story

There is an argument between a married couple in here that is as true a human moment as ever was on screen---free of trumped-up screenplay drama and accurate to how angry people really argue. The entire movie strives to be about the kind of realistic divorce you don’t see on-screen. It is oddly refreshing.

12. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Quentin Tarantino’s love letter to 70’s Tinseltown is essentially a question: What if the murder that changed the industry forever had gone down differently? Along the way, it also manages to be a clever and insightful study of fame and fulfillment, or lack thereof.

11. High Life

Claire Denis is damned determined not to be boring. Your reaction to her latest film will probably depend on how receptive you are to that as the driving force of a film. Myself, I’m very receptive. I want to see the personal struggles of convicts unwittingly shipped into space, told without Action-Adventure tropes, in a movie that sometimes misfires but is never dull.

 10. Dolemite Is My Name

And fuckin’ up motherfuckers is my game! Look, if you don’t like naughty words, you probably shouldn’t be reading my columns---and you definitely shouldn’t be watching this movie. Eddie Murphy plays Rudy Ray Moore, the ambitious, irrepressible and endlessly optimistic creator of Blaxpoitation character Dolemite. Have you seen the 1975 film? It’s either terrible and wonderful, or wonderful and terrible, and the jury’s still out. Either way, Moore in the film is a self-made comic who establishes himself by talking in a unique rhyming style that speaks to black Americans at a time when black pop culture (and not just the white rendition of it) was finally beginning to pierce the American consciousness. What The Disaster Artist did for The Room, this movie does for Dolemite---with the difference being I felt like I learned something I didn’t know here.

 9. 1917

Breathless, nerve-wracking and somehow intensely personal even though it almost never takes time to slow down, it is fair to call Sam Mendes’s film a thrill ride---but it’s one that enlightens us on a fading historical time, rather than simply being empty calories. Filmed in such a way as to make it seem like one continuous, two-hour take, for which some critics dismissed it as a gimmick, the technique is used to lock us in with the soldiers whose mission it is to save an entire division from disaster. We are given no information or perspective that the two central soldiers---merely two, in a countless multitude---do not have, and so we are with them at every moment, deprived of the relief of omniscience. I freely admit I tend to give anything about World War I the benefit of the doubt, but there’s no doubt that the movie earns my trust.

8. Ash Is Purest White

Known by the much less cool-sounding name Sons and Daughters of Jianghu in China, here is a story that starts off ostensibly about crime---a young woman and her boyfriend are powerful in the small-potatoes mob scene of a dying industrial town---but after the surprising first act becomes a meditation on life, perseverance and exactly how much power is worth, anyway, when it is so fleeting and so easily lost. What do you do when everything that defined you is gone? You go on living. This is my first exposure to writer-director Jia Zhangke, an oversight I must strive hard to correct in future.

7. Knives Out

The whodunit is a lost art, a standard genre belonging to a time when mass audiences could appreciate a picture even if someone didn’t run, yell or explode while running and yelling every ten minutes. Rian Johnson and an all-star cast rescued it from the brink of cinematic extinction and gave it just enough of a modern injection to keep it relevant. Every second of the film is engaging; Johnson even manages to have a character whose central trait is throwing up when asked to lie, and he makes it seem sympathetic rather than juvenile. The fantastic cast of characters is backed up with all the qualities of “true” cinema: perfect camerawork, an effective score, mesmerizing production design. As someone who didn’t much care for Johnson’s Star Wars outing, I’m honestly put out this didn’t do better at the box office than it did.

6. A Hidden Life

After a few questionable efforts and completely losing the thread with the execrable vanity project Song to Song, Terence Malick returns to his bread and butter: meditative dramas on the nature of faith, family, and being on the outside looking in, which encompass a healthy dose of nature, philosophy and people talking without moving their lips. That last is a little dig, but it’s true: Malick does Malick, and if you don’t like his thing, this true story about a German dissenter in World War II will not change your mind. For me, what Malick has done is that rarest of things: he had made a movie about faith, and about a character who is faithful, without proselytizing. That the closeness and repressiveness of the Nazi regime is characterized against Malick’s typical soaring backdrops is a masterstroke, and the best-ever use of his visual style.

5. The Lighthouse

Robert Eggers is a different kind of horror filmmaker. After redefining what was possible with traditional horror monsters in The Witch, he returned with something that couldn’t be more different: an exploration of madness more in the vein of European film than American. Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe are two men stranded in a lighthouse together slowly losing their minds, or what is left of them. The haunting score and stark, black-and-white photography evoke a nightmare caught on tape, something we’re not supposed to be seeing. It’s not satisfying in a traditional way, but for those craving something more cerebral from horror, Eggers has it covered.

4. Us

I have become slightly notorious in my own little circle for not thinking Get Out was the greatest film ever made, and now I’ve become rather known for thinking Us just might be. Ok, so that’s definite hyperbole: “greatest” is a tall claim for almost any horror movie. Yet here Jordan Peele shows that he can command an audience’s attention even when not benefiting from a popular cultural zeitgeist in terms of subject matter. It’s a movie with no easy or clear message, one that specializes in simply unsettling us with the idea that the world is fundamentally Not Right. I firmly believe that if Peele becomes a force in the genre, 50 years from now when he and all of us are gone, his first film will be remembered as a competent start, while this will be remembered as the beginning of his greatness.

3. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Ostensibly about urban gentrification, this story of a young black man trying to save his ancestral home from the grasping reach of white encroachment is a flower with many petals to reveal. Don’t let my political-sounding description turn you off: the movie is not a polemic in the slightest, but rather a wry, sensitive look at people, their personalities and how those personalities are intertwined with the places they call home. Though the movie is the directorial debut of Joe Talbot, it is based loosely on the memories and feelings of his friend Jimmie Falls, who also plays one of the two central characters. If you’ve ever watched a place you love fall to the ravages of time and change, this movie may strike quite a chord with you.

2. Uncut Gems

When asked why this movie is great, I usually say that it was unbelievably stressful and caused me great anxiety. This description is not usually successful in selling it. The Safdie Brothers have essentially filmed chaos: a man self-destructing in slow-motion, if you can call it slow. Howard Ratner has probably been gradually exploding all his life; he strikes you as someone who came out of the womb throwing punches. He’s an addictive gambler who loves the risk much more than the reward, and can’t gain anything good in life without risking it on a proverbial roll of the dice. His behavior is destructive. His attitude is toxic. Why do we root for him? Perhaps because, as played by Adam Sandler, he never has any doubt as to who he is---something few of us can say. He’s an asshole, but he’s a genuine asshole, and somehow that’s appealing even when you’re in his line of fire.

1. Pain and Glory

When I realized I would, for the first time, have the chance to see a Pedro Almodovar film on the screen, I was overjoyed. His movies aren’t always great, but that was of little concern: he’s one of the handful of directors on the planet who can fairly call back to the avant-garde traditions of Bergman or Truffaut, making the movies he wants to make about the things he want to make them about, and I’d never seen one of his films when it was new and fresh, only months or years later on DVD.

It seems I picked right, as his latest has been almost universally hailed as one of the best of his long career. An aging, aching filmmaker spends his days in his apartment, ignoring the fans of his original hit film and most of his own acquaintances, alive or dead---he tries hard to put his memories away. Throughout the course of the movie, he re-engages with most of them in one way or another, coming to terms with who he is and where he’s been, though not in a Hallmark-movie-of-the-week way. Antonio Banderas plays him in the role that was always denied him by his stud status in Hollywood. It isn’t simply him, though: every person we meet is engaging and, we sense, has their own story outside of how they intersect with his. Most engaging is that of his deceased mother, who in her youth was played vivaciously by a sun-toughened Penelope Cruz. Perhaps Almodovar will tell us some of their stories some day. Perhaps not. I would read an entire book of short fiction all about them. This is the year’s best film.

[mychemicalimagines]

Happens Like That- Jim Halpert-Chapter 1

Summary: Jim Halpert and Melissa Ford have been best friends since he started at Dunder Mifflin in 1999. Now that a camera crew is following the employees around so they can film a documentary, do they finally tell each other their feelings? Or do they just let them go? Either way, what will become of these two best friends? 

Warnings: Cussing and Smut in later chapters.

Words: 2780

Tag List: @you-a-southpaw-doll @elskinner45 @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl

A/N:I have NOT watched every single episode of The Office. Certain episodes will not have EVERYTHING that was done in the show and things might be wrong. Also Melissa Model Gifs are Sophia Bush...Her hair style and length will change. I look for her facial expression when I pick them. Please do not tell me this in the comments. There will be no Pam/Jim.

If you have any questions just message me. If you want to be tagged please send an ask or message me.

Pilot Episode 

No-One’s P.O.V.

Michael Scott walks into Dunder Mifflin Paper Products, a camera crew following along behind him. Everyone was informed a camera crew would be there so they can do a documentary on a Paper Products and their employees.

Michael smiles at the camera. “I’ve been at Dunder Mifflin for 12 years. The last four as Regional Manager. If you want to come through here…” He opens the door and walks through it, where two girls are sitting, Melissa Ford and Pam Beesley.

“So, this is my kingdom. As far as the eye can see. This is our receptionist, Pam Pam! Pam-Pam!” He says, doing an impression of Bam-Bam from The Flintstones, banging on the counter of the desk. “Pam Beesley. Pam has been with us forever. Right, Pam?” He asks, glancing, briefly, at the camera then back to the two girls.

“Um...well...I don’t know.” Pam says, looking at Melissa, then the camera, and finally at Michael.

“If you think she’s cute now, you should have seen her a few years ago!” 

Pam’s eyes widen at his comment. “What?”

Michael, however, doesn’t answer her. Instead, he just looks straight at the camera.

“This is Melissa. Mel. Melly. Melly Belly!” He chuckles, gesturing to Melissa. “Melissa Ford here is my personal assistant. Pam is getting married soon, so Mel here will becoming both assistant and receptionist.” Melissa smiles slightly at his words. “She’s been my assistant for 4 years and you were the regional manager assistant for…?”  Taking the cue to answer his train of thought, Mel nods and goes to speak, only to have him cut her off before she can. “Don’t care. You’re my assistant now. So, ladies any messages?”

“Um...yeah. Just a fax.” Pam replies, pulling a piece of paper off the fax machine and handing it to Michael.

“Pam! This is from Corporate. How many times have I told you? There’s a special filing cabinet.” He says, and looks up at Pam and Melissa.

“You...you haven’t told me…” Pam tries to say.

“What filing cabinet?” Melissa asks, looking confused.

“It’s called the waste paper basket!” He crumbles the paper up and throws it over their heads. They both look confused and shocked, which just has Michael laughing, and exclaiming, “Look at their faces!” before he walks away from the desk.

Melissa’s P.O.V.

I look at Pam and whisper, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to him.”

I look back at the computer screen she and I both share. About ten minutes later, one of our corporate leaders comes in, Jan Levinson-Gould. I quickly stand up.

“Hello, Jan!”

“Hello, Melissa, Pam.” She replies, smiling slightly.

“Michael is in his office.” I say.

“Thank you. Melissa, can you bring the agenda, please? And, Pam? I would like you to take notes.”

 With this, she turns and walks to Michael’s office. I reach over to the side of my desk and grab the planner. I hand Pam a notebook before we walk to Michael’s office and take a seat. 

“Was there anything you wanted to add to the agenda?” Jan asks Michael, who just bites his lip and rubs his thighs as he shifts in his seat.

“Umm...me no get an agenda.” He says.

“What? I’m sorry?” She says, clearly confused.

“I didn’t get an agenda.”

“I faxed you one this morning.” Jan says, glancing at Pam and I.

“Really?!? I didn’t...Did we get a fax this morning?” Michael asks, looking at us.

“Uh...ye-” Pam tries to tell him, but he just cuts her off.

“Why isn’t it in my hand?” He demands, looking at Pam before averting his gaze to Jan. “A company runs on the efficiency of communication, right? So, what’s the problem, Pam? Melissa? Why didn’t I get it?”

Pam and I both share a look before I look back at Michael and explain why he doesn’t have a copy in his hand.

“You put it in the garbage can since that was ‘the special filing cabinet’.” 

“Yeah. That was a joke.” He tries to say, but he chuckles a little. “That was a joke. That was actually my brother’s and it was bills. It doesn’t work with faxes.”

After that, Jan offers to let him use her paper, and they begin talking about downsizing the company. I look at Pam and swallow deeply. Oh no.  About an hour later, I look up as I hear the scraping of a ruler on a desk. Dwight is using his ruler to push Jim’s papers back onto his own desk. 

Dwight Schrute is the Assistant to the Regional Manager. I’m the Regional Manager’s Assistant. Dwight likes to remind me at least once a week that there is a difference. To me, they’re the same, but just worded differently.  I just don’t do any sales calls like Dwight does.

Jim Halpert is one of the top sales people here at the company. He is also my best friend. He and I are always pulling pranks on Dwight. The main reason is to get a rise out of Dwight. Jim rolls his eyes and finishes his sales call, before he looks at Dwight.

“Your papers are on my desk!” Dwight huffs in explanation,  still pushing the papers back on to Jim’s desk. 

“It’s not on your desk!” Jim replies.

“It’s overlapping. Its spilling over the side!” Dwight says loudly, finally getting the piles of papers onto Jim’s desk.

Jim just rolls his eyes and stands up. He walks straight over to me.

“Melissa, you wouldn’t happen to... you know...have a pack of pencils?” Jim says, smirking.

“Well...James, as a matter of fact, I do have a pack of pencils,” I say, and open the drawer to my right. “They’re unsharpened, though.”

“Well, if you could, could you help me sharpen them?” He asks.

I smirk and pull out two sharpeners, handing one to Jim. For the next ten minutes or so, Jim and I sharpen about 20 pencils. He takes the pencils, kisses my head and walks back to his desk. 

Pam turns to me and says quietly, “You like him!”

“What?” I giggle, nervously, “Nooo!”

“Yessss,” Pam says smiling and pokes my side.

“Alright, alright!” I giggle and nod. “I do!”

Pam smirks and leans back into her chair and crosses her arms, “Since when?”

I blush and look away, mumbling my answer.

“What was that, Miss Ford?” Pam smiles, and crosses her legs.

“Since the day he started?” I glance at her.

“Wait? Really?”

I nod and giggle.

I’ve always had a crush on Jim. He started about a year after I did and when the old RM hired him I just knew he’d be the one for me. I’ve been too nervous to do anything about it. I just became his best friend. 

He’s so sweet and funny. He’s always been so nice to me. I’ve always wondered why he hasn’t had a girlfriend since working here. I look up as I hear a desk moving. Jim moves his desk just enough to fit the pencils between the desks.

Dwight must have went to the bathroom. He has already taped most of the pencils, sharp side up, on his work phone and I think on his mug. He manages to get about 6 or 7 pencils in between the desks when Dwight walks back over. 

“You can’t do that!” Dwight exclaims, sitting back down. 

“Why not?” Jim asks, looking over at him then leans back into his chair.

“Safety Violation. I could fall and pierce an...organ.” Dwight says, hesitantly.

“We’ll see,” Jim says, crossing his fingers.

Dwight glares slightly then grabs his phone and start slamming it down on the pencils so they fall to the floor. Jim smirks and glances up at me. I giggle to myself. I glance behind Jim as Michael exits his office. 

He walks straight to Pam and I’s desk. “Pam...messages?” 

I stand up, not caring about the messages that I’ve been staring at for twenty minutes. I walk past Jim’s desk, messing up his hair as he takes a sales call. He looks up and smiles at me. I wink and walk to the break room. 

I start making a fresh pot of coffee and reach into a cabinet getting my favorite coffee cup that I stashed in there. I hear the door open and looks over. Jim walks in smiling.

“Hey,” He says, walking closer and leans against the counter.

“Hey!” I smile.

“So...are we still on for a movie and Chinese tonight?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It is Friday...so...” I smirk, looking toward the coffee machine as it beeps.

“Just making sure. I was thinking we could watch that new movie ‘The Longest Yard’?” 

“Sure! Should I wear a football jersey?” I tease. “Remember! It’s at your house this week!”

“I know, I know.” he chuckles.

I fill my coffee cup and Jim walks me toward the door. Just as we walk out of the breakroom, Michael walks out of his office. 

He cups his mouth, calling out, “Attention all Dunder Mifflin employees! We have a meeting in the conference room ASAP!” 

Jim and I glance at each other and sigh. I walk over and place my cup on Jim’s desk, and steal a piece of paper along with one of the pens he has. He places his hand on my lower back and ushers me into the conference room. 

We walk straight to the back into our usual area. I sit down in the chair Jim pulls out for me. He leans against the wall right behind my chair. Ever since he started here, and we became best friends, this is how our meetings would be. 

Unless there’s more chairs, and he can sit next to me with his arm behind me, lightly resting against my upper back, he just stands behind me. Everyone piles into the room and I lean back in my chair. 

Jim leans down and whispers, “I bet this has something to do with the message you sent me this morning.” 

I nod in agreement; he’s probably right. After the last person sits down, Michael walks in and stands in front of the room. 

“Now I know there’s some rumors out there, and I just kind of want to set the record straight.” He says.

Dwight stand up and walks straight to Michael, “I’m Assistant Regional Manager, I should know first.” 

Michael sighs, “Assistant TO THE Regional Manager.” 

I sigh before looking up at Jim and mouthing, “1,846.” 

He nods to me but shakes his head. Since Dwight was promoted, Jim started helping me keep track of how many times Dwight has said he was Assistant Regional Manager. When he was promoted, Michael even said he was just Assistant to the Regional Manager. I look back at Michael and Dwight.

“Okay. Um..Can you tell me please? Just tell me quietly. Can you whisper it in my ear?” Dwight says, leaning toward him.

“I’m about to tell everybody. I’m just about to tell everybody,” Michael says, irritated.

One of the accounting guys, Oscar, says “Can’t you just tell us?”

“Please. Okay. Do you want me to tell them?” Dwight says.

Michael laughs, “You don’t know what it is!”

“Okay you tell them with my permission.” He says, stepping back. 

“He doesn’t need your permission, Dwight.” I say, shaking my head.

“Thank you, Mel,” Michael says, smiling at me.

Dwight glare slightly. “I’m Assistant Regional Manager. You’re just the Regional Manager’s Assistant. Shut up.” 

I roll my eyes.

“She knows what this meeting is about. So you shut up.” Jim says.

I smile up at Jim. He winks at me. 

Michael looks at Dwight. “He’s not wrong. Anyway! Corporate has deemed it appropriate to enforce an ultimatum upon me. And Jan is thinking about downsizing either the Stamford branch or this branch.”

Oscar speaks up after a second, “Yeah...but...Michael, what if they downsize here?” 

Everyone starts asking if they do downsize here and what they should do. I look up at Jim. He looks down at me and sighs.

He starts rubbing my back and whispers, “Don’t worry. We got this.”

Michael starts lying out his ass then ends the meeting.

Noone’s POV

  The camera crew stops Jim and has him come back into the conference room for an interview. He smiles at Melissa who goes back to her and Pam’s desk where she starts looking at her emails. Jim sits down and one of the camera guys ask him a question.

“If I left, what would I do with all this useless information in my head? You know? Tonnage price of manila folders? Umm... Melissa’s favorite flavor of yogurt..which is vanilla.”

It cuts to Jim looking over at Melissa from his desk and there she is, eating her vanilla yogurt.

Next Melissa is sitting in the conference room a little while later.

“Jim said Vanilla?” She laughs. “He probably knows me better than anyone else.”

Melissa’s POV

I walk out of the bathroom when I hear Dwight bitching again. I sigh and look over. I see Dwight’s stapler in a thing of Jello. I smirk and walk over to my desk. Last night Jim came over and we did this prank together...again. 

We’ve done this multiple times but Dwight never suspects me. I look over to see Dwight talking to Michael and the New Temp while Jim eats one of the Jello packs he stole from my house.

I giggle, look back down and start playing Solitaire on the computer. After Michael makes dessert jokes, Jim walks over to me. 

“What time are you coming over?” He asks, leaning on the desk.

“Umm. 6:30?” I ask, looking up at him.

“That’s fine with me.” He says. “I’ll order the food as soon as I get home.”

“Great! I’ll stop and get the movie and change.”

Before Jim can reply, Michael steps out of his office.

“Melissa. Can you come here please?”

I look up at Jim confused, but I stand up and walk straight to Michaels office.

“Yes, Michael?” I ask, taking a seat in the chair next to him.

“So, umm...as you know, we might be downsizing. And Jan says we gotta start with you. I know you’ve been here for awhile but it’s time to pack your desk.” Michael says, and looks down, but I can see him watching me from the corner of his eye.

“Alright. Bye!” I stand up.

“Wait! You’re being X Punked! It was all Ryan’s idea!” Michael points to the New Temp. 

I glance over. “Wait? I’m not fired?”

Michael shakes his head. “No! What would I do without my hot assistant?! You’re never getting fired!”

I sigh to myself. “Damn. Thanks Michael.”

“You’re very welcome, Melissa.” Michael smiles. “Can you send Pam in?”

“Sure!” I walk out. “Pam. Michael needs to see you.”

Pam looks confused but walks around the desk, over to us.

I stop her for a second and whisper. “Don’t believe him. He’s lying. Just cry alright?” 

Pam nods and walks into Michael’s office, closing the door. I look at Jim who is looking confused. I kneel down.

“Michael tried to pull a prank saying I was fired, but I was gonna walk.” I whisper.

He nods. “Gotcha. What did I hear about ‘hot assistant’?”

“He said ‘what would I do without my hot assistant?’ Apparently I’m never getting fired.”

He laughs. “What can I do to become a hot assistant?”

“Get a hotter ass.” I smirk and stand up, then walk to my desk when Pam walks out. She has tears falling down her face. She smirks at me and walks over. 

“Thanks for the heads up. I made him cry a little.” 

I wink and look at the time. It’s now 5 o’clock and everyone but Jim and I were leaving. We notice the camera crew was still there. They weren’t leaving until everyone else officially leaves. 

Jim shrugs and waves the camera over. “Come on.” 

He grabs a plate from his desk that has a towel covering it. We walk into Michael’s office and Jim lays the plate on the desk and uncovers it. It has Michael’s World’s Best Boss mug in a thing of orange jello.

“So that’s where the extra box went!” I say, giggling. 

Jim smirks. “Let’s go.” 

We both walk to our own desks and grab our coats. I grab my purse and walk with Jim to the door. He opens it for me and then places his hand on my lower back, walking me to my car.

[flannelpunkcalum]

The Devil Wears Kevlar - Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 

Cover image credit goes to the amazing saintcalum!

it’s starting to get interesting!!!! this bit is quite a bit longer than the first which is fun - it’s about 4k words but that’s getting up there for me. hope you enjoy it!!! as always pls tell me what you think this is my baby and I love her

Monday morning is rough.

Aspen usually gets to work for nine, which means she has time to grab breakfast with her roommates before she lets the subway drag her to work. On her first morning as a personal assistant, she’s aiming to get to the coffee shop by eight, because she doesn’t trust herself or lines. She’s gonna put on some classy business makeup today, too, just do her eyebrows and put on mascara, not to mention her stress doublechecking her - well, Mr. Hood’s planner. This all means she’s trying to leave the house at the time she usually gets out of bed, which is very unfair.

She thinks about pretending to forget Calum’s coffee order all the way there. Honestly, she’d be better off in a lab somewhere, and the sooner he gets tired of her the sooner she’s elbow-deep in PCR and collagen synthesis. Still, she’s a try-hard at heart, and she mourns her honest nature the whole time she’s standing in line. Decaf, one cream.

Even with her comfortable margin of time, it’s almost eight-thirty when she gets to the front of the building. Her new business flats are already threatening to give her blisters, which sucks, but she straightens her back as a sleek car pulls up and her boss gets out of the backseat. Of course he doesn’t drive himself to work. Aspen smiles at the old man chauffeuring as Mr. Hood steps out, billion-dollar-briefcase in hand.

“Good morning!” She says, instead of “sweet ride my dude” or worse, her first instinct, to ask him why he’s having her bring him coffee when there’s almost undoubtedly better beans at his mansion.

She suspects it’s a test.

See, she came prepared today; she Googled her boss and her and Mel and Paige made fun of the articles that called him a “human sized lever pushing the industry forwards”, or worse, “Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor”. Jokes aside, though, she paid attention and she thinks she’s gonna be able to figure this out properly. He’s smart, no matter what Forbes or Business Insider says. He shows up to all sorts of galas with a pretty flavour of the month, which keeps both the Daily Gotham (“the idiot newspaper for criminals” her journalist roommate Paige calls it) and the New York Times very well entertained. When Aspen said she got a weird vibe, Paige said that he might be hiding something with this public image. Paige was probably joking (Aspen’s had all kinds of crackpot theories), but the more Aspen ruminates on it the more suspicious she feels.

She thinks back to the questions he asked in that interview. He probably doesn't trust her either.

So she hands him his coffee. “There’s a little- I dunno if you like pastries but these are my favourites. If you don’t want it I’ll eat it.”

Calum takes a sip as he walks into the lobby. He’s taller, and Aspen didn’t think much of that until she had to keep up with him. “I’m not really one for sweets.” He says, barely looking at her. By that time they've reached the elevators and she's almost surprised he doesn't have her press the button for him.

“Alright, that's cool. Snacks for later.” She says as the door dings open and they step in.

Aspen reaches out for the paper bag of pastry when she realizes Mr. Hood is looking at her, really looking, for the first time all morning. He doesn't move to hand it over. “Sorry, did I- you're not allergic or anything-”

“It's not that, no, you're very thoughtful. You're just very- people aren't usually very informal with me like that.” He says, and not like it's a good thing. Aspen’s stomach drops, and not just because this elevator goes up real high. She's pretty sure the whole city can see the blush on her cheeks.

“I didn't mean to overstep- I'm sorry.” She says. He has a ghost of a smile on his lips at that. “I'm sorry, sir.” She tries again, with a careful kind of laugh, but he seems to smile properly at that and she feels a little warmer.

“Don’t worry about it too much. It’s your first day. I’ll play nice.” He says, and if Aspen didn’t know better she would have said he winked before pressing the paper bag into her hand and turning to the doors.

She’s still trying to process that as the elevator dings again for the top floor and he steps out. No matter how warm the places where their skin met feel, she has to hurry to trail after him, which she does not like. Stupid long-legged CEOs, stupid business flats. Maybe this is another test, to see if she's content with falling behind or if she leans in to the cardio. Aspen is starting to think maybe she hates being a personal assistant, and it's only been five minutes.

Mr. Hood starts talking as they head through the reception area. “This is how most days are will go; once I arrive, you'll bring me my coffee and we'll go over my appointments and meetings for the day, lunch plans, etcetera. I may need you to accompany me to some of them, just to take notes. Your computer should be connected to my email, I'll need you to look through that in a second.” He opens the door of his office for her and follows her in, taking a seat at his desk and looking at her expectantly.

Well. No pressure, or anything.

“Alright, so here’s the agenda for the day, here's your copy,” She says, pulling a neatly folded piece of paper out of her bag. “First meeting is at ten with the-”

“It is 2019.”

What? Aspen almost panics. “What?”

“It's 2019, we have smartphones, you don't need to-” Calum gestures at the sheet, looking- not angry, not amused, just- unreadable.

“I know that. Sir.” Says Aspen, not like a defensive child at all. “It's just nice sometimes to have a hard copy. Maybe you'll like it.”

She gets a faintly amused vibe. Mr. Hood is definitely finding this a little funny. Asshole.

“Alright, then, go on.”

Aspen takes a deep breath. “SO, ten o’clock meeting with Julia Fedeski and the team from Hood Automotive, eleven thirty demo from Hood Tech that could be pushed to after lunch if the meeting goes long, then you have lunch with - it just says a question mark on your sheet, in the book there were like three names scribbled out.”

“That's fine.” Mr. Hood is definitely smiling a little now. Aspen really fuckin’ wished she knew why.

“Alright, then after lunch at one you're supposed to have a meeting with the sales rep - I wish I could be more specific but all it says is “the sales rep”. Um, and then at two thirty you have a phone interview with WGBS. Finally, at five it says you have to leave for a fitting for the Gotham Museum fundraiser and I can't let you be late to that. It's very clear. And that's what your day looks like!”

“Sir.” Mr. Hood reminds her, letting an honest smile show.

“Sir!” Aspen covers as best she can. “I'm sorry, I- I'm a scientist by trade, we're an irreverent bunch. I'll get it.”

“I know you will.” He seems cheerful as he takes another sip of his coffee. “Why don’t you check for messages and come back in, say, half an hour to bring me up to speed?”

“Absolutely, sir,” says Aspen, and she is out of that office as fast as politely possible.

Calum Hood is still terrifying, but at least that time Aspen didn't feel like she was about to spontaneously combust.

Half an hour gives her time to get a cup of tea before she heads back in to give the seventh richest person in the world an update. She doesn't burst into flames that time, either, and he doesn't have to remind her to address him all formal-like this time, either.

...maybe this could work.

By time Aspen emerges, glowing with happiness because she didn't fuck that exchange up, Liam and Janice are in. Janice gives her a really kind smile. Liam looks at her and his shoulders sag.

Aspen had hoped that Liam would have something to say to her today. An apology. She would have taken any excuse. She didn't want one of her best and most handsome work friends to be angry at her like this! It looks like that's not going to happen, though, which is- it's a shame.

“Good morning Janice, good morning Mr. Payne.” She chirps anyway.

Janice seems surprised to see her cheerful, but she says hello anyways. Liam grunts, but at least he doesn't try to grab her again.

Aspen suspects she's going to be counting her blessings fairly often this week.

She heads into her office and gets to… work, she thinks? She doesn't know what she's supposed to be doing until Mr. Hood needs her, so she pokes through file cabinets and tries not to look up through the glass to see what Liam's doing.

She makes a reservation for lunch.

She answers the phone and manages to direct them to Hood Tech.

She calls Mr. Hood fifteen minutes before his meeting to remind him and ask if she needs to take notes (she doesn't).

She watches him leave his office and head to the elevators. He doesn't wave.

Janice answers a phone call.

Liam coughs.

GOD, she's going to be here forever.

Aspen decides she hates being a personal assistant. Offices are terrible. Worst of all, she’s still over-analyzing the little exchange she had with her boss in the elevator, probably because her genius brain has nothing else to do. She’s really trying not to be silly about this but god, she fuckin’ yearns to be in a lab. No one expects a bunch of nerds to look poised and collected while they wait for something to happen! Aspen wishes she was back in the basement. Mouska, pretty Mouska who worked next door, would always let Aspen come around and watch her dissect turtle brains or whatever. Even when there was nothing to do, there was something to do. Here, all she can do us Google “what to do in an office when you are bored” and pray Liam can't see her browser history. One of the suggestions is “quit”. God, she wishes.

Things look up around eleven, when Calum gets back and has her draft an email for him. It takes her a nerve-wracking fifteen minutes to write one paragraph, but he approves it and then they finally get to head down to the levels of Hood Tech’s labs for the demo.

To say Aspen is psyched would be an understatement. She even grabs her safety glasses from the desk (of course she’s keeping them around) on her way to meet Mr. Hood at the elevators. Just in case. He meets her with eyebrows raised. “You don’t have to come along.” he says, but he doesn’t sound opposed to it so she presses on.

“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d really like to. Do you know how jealous Ash- Dr. Irwin is going to be when he hears about this?” She’s got a clipboard in her hand to make her look professional, and it seems to work because he smiles at her and turns to the elevator.

Hood Tech is so badass. Aspen remembers when they came out with the remote hacking device that helped Gotham City PD take down Firefly a few months before she moved to the city. Obviously with Gotham’s problems with corruption in the government, it makes her a little nervous, but god, she’s really into the science behind it. She can’t wait to see what they’re planning to show Mr. Hood.

She practically vibrates all the way down to the 19th floor, where everything is black and chrome when they step out. Aspen is a little envious that these guys get the flashy decor while her basement lab is a symphony in beige, but she has to admit she loves the effect. Someone is waiting by the elevators to walk them there, a middle-aged man in a lab coat and khakis. He doesn’t say much as they head through the labs, at least not to her. Mr. Hood talks to him in low tones. Usually being ignored would drive Aspen mad, but she takes this opportunity to try to peer into any lab with an open door and glean something about the research. Most of the doors are closed, but she sees a shooting range, shiny lab benches, and what looks like an fMRI machine. She’s really digging it.

They’re lead into a room with more men in lab coats standing around, and a chair in the middle of the room. One chair. As they step towards it, both Calum and the guy in the lab coat hesitate. “Oh, don’t worry, I can stand. I’m wearing sensible footwear and everything.” She jokes, wiggling her business flats. “I’m Aspen, by the way, nice to meet you all.” She waves cheerfully. She’s been told it’s disarming.

She gets one awkward wave back, so she counts it as a success. Calum sits down. Aspen stands behind his chair and tries to prepare herself for the marvels she’s undoubtedly about to see. Hood Tech does not disappoint. They’re shown a robot the size of her thumbnail that holds a camera and microphone and hovers, and as soon as it gets a portable power source it’ll be a breakthrough in surveillance. Next, the team brings out a voice synthesizer and has Calum speak into it, and soon the entire room of scientists has taken a turn speaking in his voice. Aspen’s clipboard is dangling at her side; she knows they’ve saved the best for last, and she’s so anxious to see what it is. The scientists seem just as excited as she is; she can catch the bright looks they give each other while Mr. Hood looks over the voice synthesizer.

He can sense it too. “...And?” Calum says, setting the device aside.  

Dr. Fox, the head of the team, grins. “And the Hive.”

Someone opens a box, and, yeah, it’s a swarm of drones that fly out to hover around Calum’s chair. Aspen, who’s standing right behind him, is also surrounded, but one of the robots around her beeps at her reassuringly. She thinks she likes it. No, she knows she likes it. “Autonomous swarm!” She exclaims, grinning.

Some of the researchers look surprised. Good, Aspen thinks. Let that be the last time they underestimate her.

Mr. Hood looks much less impressed, both with her and with the robots. “They certainly look good. What are the implications?”

“Well, as your, um, companion mentioned, it’s an autonomous swarm system that has many possible applications. The Navy has been testing similar systems for defence as well as offence, but we think that it could, for a start, act as security in the building while we improve its range.” Dr. Fox says, looking confident. “It’s just a start, mind you. I’d like to show you something more.

“The swarm can explore on its own, but it can also cluster around any object, moving or not. The nature of the swarm also has some… interesting features.” The good doctor pulls out a remote from his lab coat and presses a button.

Instantly, the whirring of the swarm’s motors changes to something sinister, and they start to move faster, tighter. They haven’t touched her yet, but suddenly they’re scary. Less like something from Star Wars, more like something from a nightmare. Aspen flinches, even though she knows it’s stupid.

Calum Hood isn’t immune to this, either. Aspen can hear it in his voice when he says, “Nicely done.” He’s uneasy. Even some of the scientists outside of the Hive look nervous.

Dr. Fox must press another button, because the swarm softens, retreats back into the box. “I’d like to discuss it more with you inside my office, Mr. Hood.”

Calum stands up and brushes off his suit. He doesn’t look shaken, but that doesn’t mean anything. “Excellent. Could someone show Aspen back to-”

“I can wait.” Aspen says brightly, brushing her hair back. She’s going to take a look at those drones if it kills her.

Her boss doesn’t look like he expected anything else. “Suit yourself.”

“I will!” She says as Dr. Fox shows him into the office.

As soon as the door closes, she makes a beeline for the box of robots, smiling at the scientists to show she means no harm. There are three of them now, in various states of apprehension. “You guys do great work here, I’m a huge fan. How’d you do that- with the- the aggressive Hive, or whatever?”

Aspen had thought that would be a nice icebreaker, but the scientist she’s direction her charm at just seems more nervous when she brings that up. “It was actually, um, some of Dr. Crane’s research, before he-”

“Ooh. Say no more.” That had been a scandal and a half. Well, scandal was the wrong word for it. Rather, it was a tragedy and a shame. Dr. Jonathan Crane had been working for Hood Enterprises as a researching psychologist when it came out that he had been performing unethical experiments on animals and on his own colleagues after hours. Very MKUltra. He had been fired and was now awaiting trial. This had all happened about a month or two before Aspen had gotten her job - she suspects it had a small part by scaring away some competition.

The man, dressed in a lab coat like every other schmuck in here, scratches the back of his neck and nods awkwardly. “Yeah, it was- not great for the project, I’ll say that much. But, uh, it means results, so we’ll keep getting funding. So. I’m Dr. Kaziman, by the way. Call me Nari.” He extends his hand to shake.

Aspen smiles and shakes. “Nice to meet you! I’m still Aspen.”

That usually gets a laugh, and it does now.

It turns out these guys have a lot more going on that what they’ve shown Calum, but some of it’s not ready, or it’s mostly just experimental. Once she explains her scientific background, they only take a little pressing to show her what they’re personally proud of. One of the engineers shows her one of his self-folding origami models - he hopes it could be useful for space travel, or some sort of biomedical shit, but right now he’s just trying to figure out how to make a little folded piano.  The main programmer lets her look at the code for the Hive, which she adores but absolutely cannot understand. It’s not long until Mr. Hood re-emerges from the office, but by the time he does Aspen’s feeling just a little bit better.

He doesn’t say much of anything, just nods at her to follow as he gives a stiff wave to Dr. Fox. Aspen follows with a much more cheerful “goodbye!” Mr. Hood doesn’t say anything until they reach the elevator, and even on the way up he’s silent until Aspen decides to speak up.

“Thanks for letting me tag along. I hope I didn’t get in your way or anything.” She says, with her very best trustworthy grin.

He returns the smile, thankfully enough. “Not at all. You really enjoyed that.”

It is so not a question. “Well, yeah, cutting-edge technology... it’s so cool, what those guys are doing, sir. You can’t expect me not to get excited.”

Aspen thinks she hears a chuckle. “Autonomous swarm.” He repeats, running a hand through his hair.

“Autonomous swarm! And the voice synthesizer, and- like, it’s not my field and all, but I loved it.” She shrugs, pleased. “Oh, also your reservation at the Cactus Club with Mr. Lord is in half an hour.”

The elevator dings for their floor. “Thank you, Aspen.” Says Mr. Hood, stony-faced again, and he leaves as soon as the door is open. It’s abrupt enough to give her pause before she exits the elevator. It sounds like a dismissal.

Well, alright.

Maybe he just doesn't like Mr. Lord?

Aspen doesn't really get a lunch break that day. Mr. Hood gets her to make an appointment with the Mayor and also draft an email, and being on hold all that time decimates her chances at sneaking down and seeing her friends. She's back to miserable, and she sees Liam walk past her to the elevators with a smirk.

Things stagnate again.

It’s 4:30 when she calls Mr. Hood in his office to remind him of his fitting, and it says a lot about what she’s doing that that’s the most exciting thing that happens after her non-existent lunch. Mr. Hood says he’s a bit busy but he’ll do his best, and she says something vaguely respectful how it said it was very important in the book and not to let him be late. She’s still got to prove herself, after all.

At 4:45 she’s anxious to go and makes a few phone calls, just to look like she’s working a little while longer. Maybe she likes having a little control over this, too. She’s been following Mr. Hood all day, and it’s about time he had to stick to her schedule, and oh, it says at 5:26 she has to get home and immediately lie facedown on the couch for three hours. That’s non-negotiable.

She generously gives him until 5:01 to come out of his office. He doesn’t, so she knocks on the door and is already pushing it open when he says “come in”. “This appointment was underlined four times, sir.” She says, by way of explanation.

“You do good work, Ms. McMichael.” He says, all resigned, as he stands up to gather his coat. “I was wondering why Alfred was outside.”

Aspen is proud of that. “Yeah, well, I do what I can. Do you want me to carry anything for you?”

Calum seems like he has to suppress a laugh. “Eager to head home?”

Yes. “No, sir, just trying to do my job.” She says, smiling, because they both know it’s a lie.

Mr. Hood gathers some papers into a briefcase and tugs his suit jacket on. Aspen, unbidden, heads over to the coathanger and brings his coat over, helping him get it over his broad shoulders. “Thank you,” he says, quiet, and before she steps away he catches her shoulder and gives it a squeeze, just for a second. “You’ve done so well today.” He says, as he lets her go. “You should be proud.”

Aspen smiles. It’s nice to hear her terrifying boss say she did well. Of course, that doesn’t explain why the hair on the back of her neck is standing up, but she’ll deal with that later. “Thank you. Sir.” She adds, almost entirely on her own.

Calum Hood doesn’t look so scary when he’s smiling like that. “Thank you. And go home! Get some rest. Busy days ahead.”

Yes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.” She smiles brightly as he leaves his office. As soon as she hears the elevator ding she catches her breath, runs a hand through her hair.

Well.

Aspen doesn’t know if she likes that Mr. Hood didn’t go out himself when he noticed the car - he waited for her to get him, instead. He’s probably a little spoiled. Plus everything is a test, she’s pretty sure. Even- that look he gave her as he left, the one she’d call tender if she didn’t know better, that was probably a test too. It’s done now, though, and she waves goodbye to Liam and Janice as she heads out.

Aspen’s first day was… not uneventful. But fuck if it couldn’t have been a lot worse. She expected to royally fuck up, get screamed at, to be sent back to the lab in disgrace. To be completely honest, she’s not sure if she’s pleased about that; sure, seeing Hood Tech was nice and all, but she sort of missed wearing a lab coat. Plus, Mr. Hood… he’s impossible for her to get a read on.

Unfortunately for her, she’s tenacious in nature, which means she wants to see how this all plays out. The pay is good, too, especially for the amount of work she does.

Whatever.

She’s going to eat her body weight in pizza when she gets home.

[mrs-captain-evans]

Blind Date - Chris Evans x Ofc

Summary: Melanie (ofc) has been set up on a blind date with Captain America himself, Chris Evans. How will it go? Pairing: Chris Evans x Ofc Word Count: 1841 Warnings: Fluffy

A/N: Today is my birthday! So to celebrate I have written this little piece which sprung from an idea due to a friends first (and awful!) date. Thank you @mycapt-ohcapt for once again being an amazing support. Forever grateful <3

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This was the worst first date you’ve ever been on. Your best friend, Emily, set you up on a blind date with, what she described as, the perfect man who will make all your dreams come true. She gave you his number last week in case any plans change, but the only thing she told you was his name, Chris, nothing more. When you asked for his last name she said you’d bail if you knew who he was. You were sat at the 2 person table in a luxurious and exclusive restaurant in Boston fearful for your life. What if he was a serial killer? He didn’t sound creepy in his messages, but you still felt panicky.

The restaurant was far more expensive than your liking. Looking around at the other diners, feeling out of place, you couldn’t help but notice the time. He was 35 minutes late! If it wasn’t for the fact your glass of wine cost more than your weekly shop, you would of left 15 minutes ago.

Feeling frustrated and wanting to take your anger out on your best friend, you pulled out your phone to send her a text, ‘Ugh, he’s so late *rolling eye emoji* This is the last time you set me up, the fucker couldn’t even cancel himself. The waiters are giving me funny looks. You owe me big time for this!’

With a tight smile on your face, you looked towards the waiters, who were giving you a sympathetic look and asked for the check. Reluctantly paying for your drink, hoping your card didn’t decline, you thanked your server while vowing to never listen to your best friend again.

Standing up and downing the rest of your wine, you moved to leave, but a tall, muscular man with a full beard and a frantic look on his face caught your eye. The hostess pointed in your direction and the man politely nodded and turned in your direction striding towards the table. Reaching you, he apologised instantly “Oh god, I’m so sorry, my meeting overran, the traffic was terrible and I couldn’t find anywhere to park.”

Realising who your date was, you replied with a dazed edge to your voice, “That’s okay, I was just about to leave but I’m going to quickly use the restroom.” Before giving him a chance to reply, you rushed off in the other direction to compose yourself.

Chris Evans. Your date was Chris Evans. Captain America, Chris Evans. You couldn’t believe Emily, how could she? Not only was he the hottest bachelor in Boston, he was your celebrity crush. You were aware that Emily was distant friends with him but you never thought she’d actually set you up with the actor. You always knew that letting her plan the whole date was a bad idea, she picked the most over the top restaurant in Boston and now you were going to have to sit with the man, trying to act normal.

Heading back towards the table with a smile on your face, you noticed your wine glass was now full again and Chris sipped from a glass of his own, with the remaining bottle in a silver bucket to the right of him. As you approached the table to introduce yourself, Chris noticed you and awkwardly reached his hand out towards you, miss judging and knocking your glass over, tipping it straight onto your brand new, and expensive, dress.

“Shit! Fuck! Sorry.” Grabbing some napkins and passing them to you, he continued apologising, “I am so sorry, let me pay for the dry cleaning.”

Irritated at him for not only ruining your new $170 dress, but also being late, you couldn’t help your sarcastic response, “No point in dry cleaning, it’s ruined!” Looking up at him, seeing the sheepish look on his face, you couldn’t help but carry on, “I can’t just afford to spend nearly 200 dollars on a dress for it to be destroyed after wearing for an hour! This is the last time I ever let Emily interfere with my love life.”

“Look I am really sorry, I can’t apologise enough, I’m just- well I’m nervous.” Seeing him shifting on the spot, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, blushing, you felt bad for snapping at him.

“No I’m the one who should be sorry, I shouldn’t of snapped at you.” Still trying to wipe off as much as you can, you gave Chris a small smile, showing him he was forgiven.

Both of you sat back down and finally got onto the formal introductions, “I’m Chris Evans, the biggest and most awkward dork in Boston. Nice to meet you” He sent a wink your way.

Laughing at his humour, you flicked your hair over your shoulder, throwing him a cheeky smile, “Melanie Clarke, or Mel, the most wine drenched girl in Boston right now.”

“Yeah, I asked for that!” God, his laugh is infectious. You couldn’t help but look around the room in discomfort. This was not your kind of place, you’re a simple girl who loves a local and casual restaurant with home cooked food and doesn’t cost a months rent for a three course meal.

Noticing your uneasiness, Chris asked you if everything was okay. Wanting to be honest, you told him how you felt, “I’m not really a fancy kind of girl, I prefer little quaint, family run places. You know where the owners know your name and you can have a fulfilling meal surrounded by charm. Nothing that breaks the bank.” Seeing his embarrassed smile, you tried to make him feel a bit better, “Don’t get me wrong, this is a beautiful restaurant.”

“But..”

You looked into his eyes, shrugging slightly “It’s just not me.”

Seemingly delighted with your response, Chris let out a sigh of relief, “Thank god, I hate places like this. Do you wanna get out of here? I know a great pizza place”

“Yes please, I thought you’d never ask!”

Signalling for the check, Chris reaches into his pocket to pay the bill. Frantically searching through all his pockets, raising his voice slightly “Fuck! I cannot believe this.”

Surprised by his sudden outburst, you glanced at his annoyed face, “What’s up?”

Repeating his words and no doubt feeling mortified, “I cannot believe this! My earlier meeting overran and I left my house in such a rush to get here on time, that I forgot my wallet.” Shaking his head in disbelief, cursing at himself, “Chris you dick! And shit, you were late anyway! And now you’re cursing in front of a lady, fuck!”

As much as you enjoyed seeing him squirm in his seat, you felt a tiny bit sorry for the actor. You had a feeling he wasn’t always this horrendous at the dating scene, he did have a bachelor boy reputation after all.

The waiter comes over with the check and recognising the guilty look on his face, you reached into your purse and produced your credit card. “Don’t worry I’ll get this, a bottle of wine can’t be too expensive right?”

Wrong. As you studied at the bill you nearly choked on your own breath when you saw the figure at the bottom of the slip, $120. Trying not to look startled, you forced a smile the waiters way, hoping that your card didn’t decline. Thankfully the payment went through and you politely thanked the waiter.

Breaking the silence, Chris cleared his throat from across the table, and spoke to you in a timid voice, “All I seem to be saying to you is sorry, but I really do apologise, for everything.” Not wanting to be a bitch, you acknowledged him with a curt nod, trying not to let your anger boil over. “Please let me at least drive you home.”

“What and potentially get run over? No thank you. I’ll call a cab.” You exhaled loudly while pulling out your cell phone.

Just as you were about to dial the number, Chris’s small, gentle voice interrupted you. “I’ve really screwed this up haven’t I?” Closing your eyes for a brief second, you let his words and tone of voice sink in. Opening your eyes, you could see he was slumped in his chair, not making eye contact with you and looking very ashamed of himself.

“Sorry Chris, I just don’t think it was your day.” Feeling a bit guilty for barking at him a moment ago, you wanted to let him down gently.

He lifted his hopeful eyes, and while he stared into yours, asked “I’m guessing a second date isn’t on the cards?”

“I don’t know Chris.” Shrugging lightly, you couldn’t help but think this was all a big mistake.

With a smug smile on his face, and a knowing smirk, you suddenly felt on the spot, “Oh c’mon, please, I owe you big, remember?”

Confused at his question, you furrowed your eyebrows together not understanding him, “Huh?”

Grilling you further, “The ‘he’s late, what a fucker for not cancelling, you owe me big time’ text.”

Completely forgetting you had his number, texting him back only 5 hours ago confirming you were still on for this evening, you must of accidentally sent your message to him instead of Emily! Now you were the embarrassed one, “I umm- oh shit”

Chuckling lightly at you, “Looks like it’s not your day either.”

Mortified at making such a rookie mistake, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Nope, obviously not.” Your voice was tight and your breath was coming out in short bursts. Noticing Chris’s laughter you were pulled out of your near anxiety attack and couldn’t help but feel amused. This was definitely not the way you thought your evening would turn out, but as much of a catastrophe it was, you were happy you shared this awful experience with such a charming and humble man.

“Look, I know this evening hasn’t gone well. Actually it’s been a disaster, but I would love to see you again.” Pausing a little, he sent a wink your way, “Plus I owe you that pizza right?”

After a small debate in your head, you quickly decided to give him another shot. After all it was Emily who planned this outrageous dinner date. If you were both in a more comfortable environment then things, may perhaps, be more successful.

“Okay Evans, you’ve got yourself a second date….just.”

Smiling widely at you, he stood up, checked his watch, and held his hand out for you to follow his lead, “C’mon, it’s only 7.45pm, my condo isn’t too far from here, I can pick up my wallet and treat you to the best pizza in Boston. It’s the least I can do for being late, and ruining your dress. Oh and for making you pay for that ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine.”

Placing your hand into his, you both walked out of the restaurant feeling a lot more relaxed with big smiles on your faces.

“Just you wait until Emily hears about this!”

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Thank you all for reading! Please reblog and comment, it’s very important to all writers on here.

If you would like to be tagged, please leave a comment or send an ask.

Tag List: @mycapt-ohcapt @princess-evans-addict @gigglegirl77 @coffeebooksandfandom @the-sunshine-in-the-dark @loricameback

[hope-for-olicity]

Fictober18 #3 - “How can I trust you?”

This is today’s entry for fictober. I’m going to try to post a short story every day during October based on a quote provided by the organizer of Fictober18. All stories will be from Arrow based on the Olicity Fandom.  

Today’s quote is “How can I trust you?” Set right after Oliver proposed at Iris and Barry’s Rehearsal Party during the Season 6 crossover. 

Thanks so much to @lucyyh for the amazing gif above. Also available on AO3.

“How can I trust you? You don’t trust me.” Felicity felt broken as she walked away from the love of her life. But she couldn’t marry a man who didn’t trust her.

Oliver watched Felicity walk away dumbstruck. Felicity loved him, of that he had no doubt. Yet, she said no. She thought he didn’t trust her. After all this time - he really thought they moved past this. She had been willing to take steps to get back together before the island…

“Hey man, you alright?” Barry seemed to have come out of nowhere but then he did that on the regular.

“No.” Oliver couldn’t even attempt to lie. He needed to find Felicity. They needed to talk now. They needed each other during a time like this when they were both shaken. Felicity was not okay. He needed to be there for her. “I’m sorry, Barry I have to go. Felicity sends her regards as well.” Oliver left before the fastest man alive could stop him.

*****

Oliver was outside on the sidewalk before he realized he had no idea where Felicity was staying. He knew she was supposed to stay with Iris and the other bridesmaids but where she didn’t tell him. He looked down at his phone, tried her number again. It went to voicemail after three rings, he hung up before leaving another desperate message.

Oliver paced back and forth on the sidewalk before suddenly realizing he could call Digg.

John picked up on the first ring. “Hey Oliver, thought you’d be partying tonight.”

Oliver sighed. “Not exactly. Digg, can you ping Felicity’s phone? I need to find her. She’s not picking up.”

“Oliver has something happened to Felicity? Should I come now?” Diggle kept his tone calm.

Oliver knew despite Diggle’s calm tone he was freaking out. This was Felicity they were talking about. “No, Digg. Felicity’s fine we just had a little disagreement. I need to track her down to make sure she’s okay.”

“A disagreement?” John’s knuckle cracking could be heard on the phone. “ Oliver, what did you do?”

Oliver thought for a moment of what to say then quickly decided on the truth. “I asked her to marry me. She said no.”

“She said no? You know she didn’t mean that, right? Felicity loves you to the moon and back. You have to go find her. You need to talk it out.” Diggle pulled a full Yoda.

“I agree. Which is why I asked you to ping her phone.” Oliver starting to get more agitated. He knew in his gut Felicity needed him. Trust was so important. She thinks I don’t trust her. Why would she think that? I trust her with my life! I trust her with everything always.

Digg’s hands tapping on the keyboard. “Doing the trace now Oliver, it should only take a moment”

“Digg, can I ask you something?” Oliver’s voice caught.  “I need you to be honest.”

“Sure. What’s up? Wait, I got her. She’s at the Marriott on Winchester, let me see if she’s registered there if so I’ll get you a room number.” Digg began typing again.

Oliver laughed, “I didn’t know you knew how to hack. I’m getting in a taxi now.” Oliver told the driver to head to the Marriott.

“Felicity showed me some tricks over the years. She called them self-preservation, in case she ever needed help.” Digg spoke with a smile in his voice. “Didn’t you want to ask me something?”

Oliver sighed. “Yeah, Felicity told me she couldn’t marry me because I don’t trust her. Digg, I trust Felicity with everything. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out where that came from. Can you think of a reason, she might think this?” Oliver paid the taxi driver, stood looking up at the hotel. He waited for Digg’s answer.

“Yes.” Digg paused.

“Don’t leave me in suspense,” Oliver replied dryly. What did Digg know that he didn’t?

“You’re not going to like this Oliver.” Digg let out a breath. “You need to talk to Felicity about William.”

Oliver suddenly felt defensive. “Felicity loves William!”

“Man, I know she does. Just like she loves you. Go talk to her she is in room 320. Tell her you trust her. Make sure she hears you.” Digg hangs up.

*****

Oliver races up to room 320, he takes the stairs, no time for the elevator. When he’s stood in front of the door, he’s suddenly very nervous. He lifts his hand to knock. The door opens.

Felicity was dressed in Tardis pajama pants, blue tank top and his hoodie. Oliver could see her eyes were puffy from crying beneath her glasses.

“Oliver, I was going....” She looked surprised for a moment. Then threw her arms around him. She knew it made no sense but she needed to feel his warmth right now. She needed her best friend to comfort her.

Oliver squeezed her tightly against him. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered in her ear. Felicity began to cry on his shoulder. He moved them back into the room closing the door behind him.

He looked over Felicity to see the couch, Oliver scooped Felicity up bridal style carrying her to the couch. He kept her on his lap once they were seated. He kissed her cheek, her forehead and finally her lips. When he pulled back he looked into her eyes, “I love you, always. Nothing is going to change that. But we need to talk.”

Felicity nodded. She really couldn’t trust herself to speak. Plus, she knew she never wanted to have this conversation. Oliver deserved the truth no matter how selfish and stupid she was.

Oliver gave her an encouraging smile. “I’ll talk first, okay?”

Again Felicity nodded but she also managed to say “yes.”

“I love you and I need you to hear me when I say I trust you. I’m not saying this to belittle your feelings. I know, I did something to make you doubt that. I trust you. I really do. Are you ready to tell me why you don’t think I trust you? Maybe I can explain.” Oliver kissed Felicity’s forehead.

Felicity began to cry again. “I’m sorry,” she managed to get out. Oliver let her cry for a few minutes. Felicity took a couple of deep breathes. “Okay, I’m worried what I’m going to say will make you see me differently. But I have to tell you.”

Oliver nodded. He took Felicity’s hand to offer her support.

“I know you love me. I know you trust me with many things, including your life. But I don’t think...I don’t think you trust me with William.” Felicity paused.

Oliver was taken aback. He knew Digg said it was about William but he was still shocked. “Why?” He managed to mumble.

“When we came back from the island we agreed that you should focus on William and I should stay away. I still think that was the right choice. But later...it felt like...like you weren’t sure. I wanted to ask but I didn’t want to add to your stress - you had so much going on so I just left it and I continued to doubt. I tried to broach it once when you came back from your trip with Slade. I honestly wasn’t sure you would be okay with me hanging out with William. You were but I just couldn’t trust it. Maybe I couldn’t trust that you trusted me. I’m sorry Oliver, I’m not trying to say I’m more important than William. I’m just...confused and not sure. And if you don’t trust me, a marriage...a marriage wouldn’t work.” Felicity searched Oliver’s face to see if he understood any of what she said. “Oliver…”

“No, I need to talk now.” Oliver kissed Felicity’s forehead.  “Felicity you are not selfish. I am so sorry that I was not clear that I trust you implicitly with William. In fact, I plan on you being his stepmother. There is no one alive, I trust more with him. I’m just so sorry that I didn’t notice any of this going on. Don’t think I missed you offering me an easy out with the whole, you were stressed thing. There is no excuse. I have to do better. We have to do better. We can’t keep things to ourselves. I’m here forever, baby and I’m pretty sure you are too. I know what it’s like to be scared you might lose someone because of things you did. It’s awful. I NEVER want you to feel that way. Your feelings are your feelings and you felt like I didn’t trust you. I understand why you said no to my marriage proposal but don’t think I won’t ask again. But first, we need to work on rebuilding our trust. Then we will get married. What do you think?”

Felicity looked deep into Oliver’s eyes. “I love you, Oliver Queen. You are the best man I have ever met. I want to marry you. I think we should have a long engagement - or at least longer engagement. And once we were are both sure, I want to be your wife for the rest of my life. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like I just got engaged.” Oliver beamed with happiness. His future would be with the love of his life.

Hope you enjoyed. I’m going to tag a few people. Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged!

@mindramblingsfics @memcjo @mel-loves-all @wherethereissmoak @green-arrows-of-karamel @spaztronautwriter  @wrldtravler @tdgal1 @vaelisamaza @oliverfel4 @lucyyh @swordandarrow @smoaking-greenarrow @it-was-a-red-heeler  @miriam1779 @coal000 @blondeeoneexox @laurabelle2930 @loutendiena @oliverandhisqueen

[aion-rsa]

Framing Britney Spears Review: FX Doc Is a Pop Horror Story

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The FX docuseries The New York Times Presents takes a celebrity turn on the installment “Framing Britney.” But this is no tabloid exposé, even as the gossip rags and paparazzi become inadvertently complicit. The series provides consistently dedicated longform journalism as a matter of course. Their beat is varied. It’s covered front line workers, booted a hacking network, and chased a killer.

“Framing Britney” doesn’t present a homicide case, though legal minds might argue a life has been taken away. It is a true crime documentary, but the truth hasn’t been determined, and the crime is hard to define. There is a fiduciary element, and questionable mental health is a contributory factor. It is also a missing person’s case where the exact location of the victim-at-large is known. Well known and splashed across newsfeeds at a moment’s notice if there’s even a hint of a move. That’s part of the problem.

“Framing Britney” does a very good job of breaking down the incredibly confusing legal details. Since what has been called a very public breakdown in 2008, Spears has been under her father Jamie Spears’ conservatorship. This is also known as a guardianship and it is normally limited to people with diminished capacity who might not be capable of making decisions. Spears entered the conservatorship at age 26. She acknowledged it was necessary when it began, but at 39, wants the conditions changed.

The court documents call Britney a “high-functioning conservatee” who is still raking in the bucks. James Spears’ conservatorship may have been legally dubious, but it has been profitable, bringing the star from the depths of a bottomless spending spree to a net worth of well over $60 million. The conservatorship has done so well, even James’ initial co-guardian, the aptly named Andrew Wallet, wants a raise, and The New York Times Presents wants to know why. Britney’s attorney Samuel D. Ingham III tries to explain as much as he can, but he’s only privy to so much information. The documentary makes it seem Spears’ case is too profitable to get resolved. It’s not about health, but money. Even the Los Angeles Superior Court Judge is named Brenda Penny.

The subtext of the documentary has even saturated Spears’ song titles. “Work Bitch,” “I’m a Slave 4U,” “Overprotected,” all describe the neverland Britney inhabits, and “Framing Britney” lets you know it without stating it explicitly. Baby, she’s been hit more than one too many times. And it drives her crazy. It drives her fans mad as well. They’re only angry but they’ve been labeled insane by the opposition. Britney’s father dismisses them as “conspiracy theorists.” Some members of the #FreeBritney movement say they feel so gaslighted they sometimes doubt what they know. But they know, and are very good at getting the inside scoop.

One sequence recounts an anonymous voicemail message to the fan-produced podcast “Britney’s Gram.” It is obviously big news, and the fans who produce it do the right thing. They make all the right disclaimers. They do their due diligence, vetting as much as possible, cross-checking as much information as they can get. The self-appointed Britney-fan-journalists are organized, intelligent, and so well-informed Britney herself thanks them on record highlighting the word. They go to the hearings, take minutes and share them via google doc, insiders confess to them. They are a serious media concern, and this writer hopes when they achieve this goal, they don’t give up on their network and what it can do.

The fan/journalists dig through every conservatorship document available to the public. This may be part of a New York Times series, but they are star stringers, and director Samantha Stark is absolutely justified in treating them this way, albeit with tight editorial restrictions.

This may be the most innovative aspect of the episode. New York Times journalists Jason Stallman, Sam Dolnick, and Stephanie Preiss teamed with Left/Right’s Ken Druckerman, Banks Tarver, and Mary Robertson on this project. They enthusiastically analyze and incorporate the information they get from the grassroots fan-based press which sparked The Free Britney movement. Over the past few years, cellphone-recorded incidents and social media feeds have been changing the way news is gathered, providing first-hand accounts of harassment, protests and aggravated law enforcement tactics. The New York Times Presents produces one of the best mixes of the evolving media landscape. It is a transitional program, adhering to traditional journalistic values while vetting the upstart alternative media.

“Framing Britney” watches Spears’ followers as they scrutinize the star’s Instagram posts. Since disappearing from public view, these are the only glimpses into the megastar’s life, and she appears to be packing as much into the short clips as she can. Almost every post artfully weaves a mysterious clue, but even the fans admit, anyone can read anything into all of them. Spears’ lyrics have come under similar microscopes leading to vast and dark conspiracies. Britney could be singing about watching The Sixth Sense in “Girl in the Mirror.” The lyrics to “911” could be interpreted as a plea from a monarch-programmed sex-kitten. She never even officially released her response to a famous ex-boyfriend’s teary-eyed breakup song.

The documentary includes insightful interviews, especially with Felicia Culotta, who was with Spears from the very beginning of her career. She is to Britney what Mal Evans was to the Beatles, the one who did the day to day work. She was hand-picked by Britney’s mother and James Spears’ ex-wife Lynne Spears. Culotta stood with Britney for Times Square selfies on the first trip to New York. An early talent manager talks about how dedicated Britney was to her musical and performance studies, and the documentary shows stills of the singer on different instruments. We see the rise of a female pop phenomenon in the age of the boy band.

This is where “Framing Britney” earns its title. The directors indirectly infer not only has Spears been set up for some kind of blame, the entire picture is off-center. Sure, the #FreeBritney movement has become a cause célèbre, and the documentary shows Cher, Miley Cyrus, and others hoisting flags during concerts. But when Britney shaved her head and told people to stop touching her, she was a late-night talk show joke regurgitated on daytime game shows.

The documentary highlights how, from the moment Britney took off Mouseketeer ears and got ground through the American pop-star machine, she was a target and an easy score. “Her rise was a global phenomenon,” the FX advance press promised. “Her downfall was a cruel national sport.” One segment of the documentary shows a chorus line of well-known names making sport of Spears. The series shows Justin Timberlake treating radio interviews like locker rooms, and Us Weekly heading the cheerleading squad.

The piece sheds a completely different light on Spears’ public breakdown in 2007 and 2008. While an interview with former MTV VJ Dave Holmes reveals how professional, friendly and focused she was on set, one the paparazzi squad talks about ducking the famous umbrella attack. Even in retrospect, he doesn’t get it. He still doesn’t think his actions, chasing the pop singer around in a car while she tended intricate family business, had anything to do with her beating on his car door with an umbrella in the middle of the night. He acknowledges Britney had told him to lay off, but the cameraman assumed the requests applied to specific moments, not forever. It makes it seem Britney had to advise the paparazzi on a case-by-case photo op basis. Who does that?

One of the highlights of the documentary comes at a big announcement of her second Las Vegas residency in early 2019. Britney, who did her share of comedy acting on Saturday Night Live, does a perfectly broad impression of a Mel Brooks late-night Tonight Show appearance. She walks onto the stage and keeps walking. It is art. It is a major statement from the fabricated pop star.

One of the sad truths the documentary inadvertently points out is a series of artistic “what might have been” scenarios. Known only as a singer and dancer, we’ve never gotten to know the singer as a musician, because everyone cared about the gossip. People dismiss Britney as a dance pop artist without thinking that dance pop is an art. In spite of its intentionally static rhythms, it is often more intricate musically than rock. Britney, the artist, never stopped looking to expand the sounds. She was one of the pioneers of dubstep, taking it from the London club scene to the tops of all international charts. The documentary shows a series of unrelentingly harrowing questions about dating, boys, and the dangers of her young feminine sexuality. At one point Britney has to respond on camera to the news that some mother in the Bible Belt wants to shoot her dead. “I’m nobody’s babysitter,” the singer mouths, ad-libbing like the young professional she is, before cameras linger a little too long.

Ultimately, The New York Times Presents gives us a horror documentary, as scary and unfathomable as The Blair Witch Project, only more chilling because it is not fiction. Even Stephen King veers from this kind of harrowing suspense. It’s a pop-up, and you have to wait for it. They don’t reveal it until the end credits, though we’ve known it from the beginning. As the producers are thanking their contributors, they mention they reached out to Britney Spears herself. She never responded. They don’t even know if she got the message. This is dramatic brilliance. It is subtle, effective, and as the final visual burning in the mind’s eye, provocatively expansive.

“Framing Britney” is worth watching for the details, the history it tells, and the history it captures inadvertently by virtue of its hybrid journalistic filmmaking. This is Millennial Media and it is fitting the subject is Britney Spears, the most iconic figure of that generation. The full-length documentary, without ever expressly proclaiming it, shows how the star is being saved by her peers. An entire community, linked with nothing but love for their favorite singer, comes together to do right by her. It’s their prerogative. K-Pop fans showed the power of their stans as political weapons. “Framing Britney” presents entirely new possibilities.

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The New York Times Presents “Framing Britney Spears” debuts Feb. 5 on FX and FX on Hulu.

The post Framing Britney Spears Review: FX Doc Is a Pop Horror Story appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3rjH2W4

[jemmafitzsimmons]

Hi Mel! For the prompts thing, could you please do FS + "Stay over"? x

Hello lovely! and thank you for the prompt! Sorry this took forever. I finally finished up my semester, so now I can write again! :D 

#66 - Stay over. (Want one? Choose from this list.) 

~

Academy Era AU

He hated to admit it – he wasn’t surprised when he received the text message at one in the morning asking if she could come to his apartment. His place was a closer distance from the bar than hers, and he didn’t want her trucking all that way in the harsh weather. But the real reason was that Jemma had spent the evening out with several girls from the event planning committee, many of which he was not too fond of, and he assumed it wasn’t the most enjoyable evening for his best friend.

A few weeks ago, her mum called inquiring about her social life, and suggested she spend some time with some of the girls from her building to broaden her horizons. Jemma seemed optimistic, saying she could treat it as an experiment to see if should could attract some new girlfriends if she simply spent some time doing normal social activities, but Fitz was worried, knowing these girls weren’t the sort to find discussing her latest chem experiments a fascinating way to spend a Friday night. He wanted to be wrong, hoping Jemma would meet someone friendly for a nice conversation or a person she could turn to when Fitz wasn’t available. But alas, he received her text while he was half asleep and sent her a quick reply saying he would leave a light on for her.

When the soft knock came a few minutes later, he smoothed out his hair and pulled the door open quickly, not wanting her to wait any longer than necessary, and he was surprised to see her in such a, well, not Jemma outfit. Instead of her sensible shoes and usual skinny jeans and jumper, she wore a rather fitted dress that flared out at the bottom – which also seemed to emphasize her upper half in a distracting manner, but he tried his best not to stare – and what seemed to be five inch heels from his judgment, her meeting him at eye level. She looked bloody fantastic, to be honest, but her slightly defeated expression pulled Fitz out of his thoughts immediately, so he reached his arm out to touch her shoulder.

“Come on, then.”

Giving him a half smile, she stumbled into his apartment, obviously uncomfortable in her footwear and probably still a bit tipsy from the bar.

After closing the door behind him, he turned to face her hesitantly, placing his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

Tossing her hand up nonchalantly, she scoffed. “No, it’s fine. I’m over it already. I swear. I’d rather be here anyway.”

“Do you…want to talk about it?”

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and walked a small circle around his living area. “Why is it so freezing?”

“Heating’s out. I’ll have to call maintenance in the morning.”

“And you’re sure you don’t mind me staying over? I could easily walk back to my apartment—”

“Simmons, you’re in a dress and heels. I’m not gonna let you go out there and freeze to death or break your ankles on the ice.”

She nodded. Reaching out for the bookcase on the wall for balance, she slipped off her first heel and let it drop heavily onto the floor, hesitantly placing her bare foot on the cold hardwood.

“Here, hold on.” Noticing her shiver, he moved quickly back to his bedroom and returned a few seconds later with a bundle of clothes between his hands. “You can borrow these.” He picked them out carefully, a bit embarrassed to think she would be wearing his clothes, but she looked miserably uncomfortable in her dress and bare feet, so he fetched her a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and hoodie, and the thickest socks he could find.

Her smile radiated up to her eyes as she took the bundle into her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered, bringing the clothing up to her face and giving them a subtle sniff.

They both stood frozen for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to do next.

“Do you want to…” Fitz trailed off, not meeting her eyes.

“I’ll just use your bathroom.”

“Good idea.”

When she returned to the living space looking much more comfortable, he had a kettle on the stove and two mugs set on the counter, making sure he found her favorite from the last time she stayed over – the dark navy one that lit up constellations when hot liquid was poured into it.

Through a sheepish expression, Jemma gestured toward his bedroom. “You can go back to sleep…”

“No, it’s fine. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” He topped off her tea with a splash of milk and handed the mug to her. Hoping to lift her spirits a bit, he then shuffled through his cabinet until he found his stash of mini M&M’s and tossed her the bag, which she swiftly caught with one hand.

She chuckled while pulling out a small handful. “Aren’t we being naughty?”

They settled onto the sofa, sharing a blanket and Jemma resting her legs across Fitz’s lap. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence for them, as it was nearly the fourth year into their friendship, and both had tested each other’s boundaries countless times before, invading each other’s space causally in the Academy lab and falling asleep on each other’s shoulders into the wee hours of the morning during study sessions. Still, Fitz felt his stomach flip slightly as she seemed to lean further into him, her hand resting comfortably on his knee under the blanket.

“Did you have any fun at all?” he asked.

“A little. It wasn’t a completely worthless night. Some of the girls were nice…ish.” She let out a heavy sigh. “It makes sense though. We have nothing in common. I’m never going to be interested in reality television or gossip magazines, so what’s the point in trying? Still, it would have been nice to have a girlfriend to talk to once in a while. I mean, I love you, Fitz, but you know…” She shrugged.

He didn’t really know where she was going with that sentence, as he was too hung up on hearing her utter a particular word near the end. If only she knew.

After finishing their tea and polishing off the last of the candy, it was settled she would sleep on the sofa, much to Fitz’s dismay. But she insisted, so he retrieved a pillow from his room and an extra blanket, hoping it would be enough to fight the chill hovering over the apartment. Before he turned to go back to his room, she pulled on his wrist.

“Thank you.” Lifting herself from sofa, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his middle, letting her head sink into his chest.

He left out a soft chuckle as he hesitantly returned the hug, lightly patting her on her back. “Don’t worry about it.” He pulled back to look at her at arms length. “Let me know if you need anything else. Don’t hesitate to knock.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Once in his own bed, he tried to fall asleep. He really tried. But the thought of her trying to sleep on that uncomfortable sofa alone after a night like hers didn’t seem right. Still, he didn’t want to seem overeager, so he waited another ten minutes before crawling out of his bed to fetch her. Quietly, he tiptoed around the side of the sofa to find her clutching the blanket up to her chin, a visible crease on her forehead. Carefully, as he didn’t want to startle her, he reached out a hand and placed it gently on her shoulder, shaking it slightly.

“Jemma,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” she replied, groaning as she pulled the blanket even closer to her chest.

“Jemma, you’re shivering.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, come on. The bed’s warmer.”

“Fitz.”

“I said come on.”

Finally giving in to his pleading, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and took his hand to pull herself up from the sofa. Not letting go of her hand, he guided her to his room, a soft smile lingering on his face. When they entered his room, Jemma hesitated at the edge of the mattress.

“Do you have a side?” she asked.

“What? No, pick whichever you like.”

Nodding her head slowly, she collapsed heavily onto the bed and curled up beneath his comforter. Fitz tried to not think too much about the fact that she picked the side where he was previously trying to fall asleep, a clear indention in the mattress and pillow. He also tried hard not to notice how she seemed to sink deeply into his pillow as she lay on her side, her arm wrapped underneath to cradle it to her face as much as possible. She was just getting comfortable and trying to stay warm, he told himself.

Settling himself on the opposite end, he turned on his side to face her, but kept a reasonable distance between them. Before long, they both fell quiet, the only sound in the room their steady breathing and the whistling wind outside.

Suddenly, without opening his eyes, he sensed her lift her head slightly off her pillow.

“Fitz?” she asked, breaking their silence.

“Hmm?”

“Are you still cold?”

“A little, why?”

She didn’t answer, but instead shifted over to his side of the bed until she was curled into his chest, her hand gripping his t-shirt. “I don’t need any girlfriends to hang out with. You’re all I need.”

They stayed like this for a while, Jemma’s breathing slowly syncing up to his, but that didn’t keep his heart from hammering in his chest, which he assumed she noticed, much to his embarrassment. After some time, he thought she had finally fallen asleep, but the next thing he knew, she was slowly lifting her head from where his chin rested and reached up to softly touch her lips to the underside of his jaw. When he took in a quick breath at the sudden intimacy of her touch, she looked up to meet his eyes.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly.

He let out a small laugh. “Yeah. It’s more than okay.”

“Good.” She settled herself back against his chest, letting her head rest more comfortably under his chin and let out a heavy sigh. She was asleep within minutes.

Of course, Fitz gave up his attempt at falling back to sleep now that his best friend was all but sleeping comfortably on top of him. But he didn’t mind. It allowed him to think of what he would finally say to her, as it was about time he stopped dragging his feet. Four years of feelings weighed heavily on him, and he wasn’t going to wait any longer.

He would tell her in the morning.

[wendynerdwrites]

Im glad that u also like archer. Ive been rewatching it (im on s2) and i feel guilty as a feminist for liking it so much :( i know a lot of the jokes are supposed to be ironic but i still feel bad for laughing, and my bf has made comments abt "how can u laugh at that as a feminist" (he isnt one, hes using it as a gotcha). How do u feel about this? Any advice for separating myself from toxic fandom to just be able to enjoy something problematic? Love ur blog btw happy friday 💋💋

Thanks, and don’t worry, anon: You’re not a bad feminist. 

It’s funny you ask this, but I used to have an entire essay series on this exact topic, and on Archer, particularly!

My philosophy is: don’t ignore the problematic, examine it. Use it as a springboard for analysis so you can learn more about the issue conveyed. Use your problematic responsibly! Because, let’s be honest, there ARE no unproblematic pieces of media. So just use it to educate yourself instead. For instance: my love of West Side Story (starring Natalie Wood as the Puerto Rican Maria) got me to learn more about the issues of white-washing.

Being a feminist is not about being perfect, it’s about learning and being open to examination and learning. Use your fandom for good!

Laughter is the balm for the soul. And listening to your boyfriend telling you how to be a feminist… less so. Kind of the opposite. 

My old articles are lost, for the most part, but under the cut, I’ve pasted them for reference and included a great video on satire that also very easily applies to this discussion (just substitute feminism with the Holocaust)

Our Faves Are Problematic (And So Can You!)

Nothing and no one is perfect, so isnt it about time we learn how to call out the things we love?

We are all familiar with guilty pleasures: those things we like in spite of ourselves, that we are ashamed to admit we enjoy. Usually the term is applied to something we enjoy despite a perceived “lameness”, or because we’re not the right demographic for something. For instance, I still have a deep, abiding affection for Sailor Moon: that colorful, stock-footage-laced Japanese phenomenon that still gets me shouting “MOON PRISM POWER!” when I’m in the right mood. Yes, childhood is over, and yes, the show’s American dub did give me incest panic as a child, but I can’t help but love it.

But then there is the more difficult brand of guilty pleasures guilty pleasures that involve actual guilt instead of “mild embarrassment”. I’m talking about problematic faves the stuff that we love despite it containing clearly objectionable material.

willing18

(Image copyright Vertigo Comics)

…This is a panel from Bill Willingham’s Fables. The character there is Bigby Wolf, one of the main (anti) heroes of the story and the character the writer identifies with most. The person Bigby is waxing poetically on pro-Zionism to is someone literally called “The Adversary”.

Fables also happens to be one of my favorite comic book series on the planet.

Safe to say the issues surrounding Israel, Palestine, and the Middle East are a bit more complicated than that. And my own feelings on the matter are far more complicated. But this glorification of Israeli military policy is… um… in very tame terms… uncomfortable. After reading this, I resolved to only check Fables out of the library: a way for me to enjoy these comics in a legal way without financially supporting these ideas, however indirectly.

There are other problems with Fables: a lack of ethnic diversity, some murky racial and class commentary, and instances of some objectionable tropes, but there is a lot to recommend of these books as well. The stories are fantastic, the art brilliant, the characters well-fleshed out, and there is a definite progressive take on issues like gender and sexuality. But as much as I love this series, there is no getting around the fact that these stories have issues.

No excuses.

But it’s not just Fables that has disappointed me in the past. I am now and forever a Trekker, yet despite how horribly sexist episodes like “The Turnabout Intruder” are, or the very troubling anti-Semitic coding of the Ferengi. The Star Wars prequels famously had racist caricatures with the Trade Federation and the infamous Jar Jar Binks.

In the world of media, there’s no shortage of problematic content. From the novels of Robert Heinlein containing pro-fascist commentary, to HBO’s Game of Thrones misogynistic adaptation decisions, there’s nothing that is quite free of some messed up messages, subtle and blatant alike.

Now, when we talk about such media, we don’t merely mean triggering factors (i.e. the presentation, portrayal, or discussion of potentially traumatizing issues like domestic abuse, racism, hate crimes, substance abuse, or sexual assault), but rather how these matters are portrayed. A piece of media, such as Marvel and Netflix’s excellent Jessica Jones series, can portray certain issues (such as sexual assault, domestic violence, and mental illness) in a respectful, progressive, and sensitive light. Thus, while the content of the show can be triggering, the skill with which they portray these matters keeps it from being problematic.

In contrast, something like Game of Thrones, which portrays sexual assault in a thoroughly insensitive, exploitative, and misogynistic manner, is highly problematic.

Unfortunately, progress has been a slow-moving process, with many issues such as race, gender, sexual identity, mental illness, substance abuse, and violence only being examined in a more nuanced way fairly recently. As a result, almost all media is problematic in one way or another. Especially since even today, the majority of executives crafting, publishing, and greenlighting books, shows, comics, movies, and other forms of media are in fact cisgendered, heterosexual white men.

So what do we do?

Good news: here at Fandom Following, we don’t believe in dropping something you like just because it’s problematic. Why?

Because knowing, examining, and yes, even appreciating problematic content can be incredibly important. While certain content can be damaging, it can also teach us a great deal. Not only about current issues, but also about how to go about discussing these matters, and constructing narratives in general.

The racial issues in things like Star Wars and Star Trek can teach us much about how coding works, and how to avoid reinforcing stereotypes. The exploitation of women and rape on Game of Thrones can open up a dialogue of how to portray these things properly and improperly.

There are three tricks to enjoying problematic media: 1) Recognizing that there is an issue, 2) Being ready for a dialogue, and 3) Not ignoring or silencing the complaints about said issues.

Well, we here at Fandom Following have decided to tackle this issue head on with a series called “Our Faves Are Problematic (And So Can You!)”, where we will be exploring specific media franchises, creators, and works and, specifically, the problematic content they contain. In this series, we’ll be examining the issues, talking about why they’re important, discussing what this piece of media did wrong, how to approach the issue in a more progressive way, and the best ways to go about discussing the issue itself. Various writers will be contributing to this project, and we’re excited to present this feature to you!

So let’s get down and dirty, people. We all have our problematic faves. Let’s talk about them.

My Face is Problematic: Archer

Honestly, doing a post like this on Archer, a show which is deliberate in its dark humor, is a bit hard for me. Not because I like the show, but because I think there’s true validity in the argument that humor and narratives about really messed up, problematic stuff has its place. The show exists to be as outlandish and absurd as possible. The extremes and the awfulness of the characters’ personalities and their actions is the point.

I VUZ BORN IN DUSSELDORF AND THAT IS VY THEY CALL ME ROLF!

Joking about awful things, awful circumstances, and awful people is hardly new ground for comedy to cover, nor does it send a poor message, necessarily. Mel Brooks wrote a movie in which one of the characters was a Nazi, who wrote an overblown pro-Nazi musical produced by men deliberately trying to make a flop. Springtime For Hitler, as it exists in our universe, is not problematic. The Nazis are the butt of the joke, in which any pro-Nazi sentiment can only function if it is wildly fabricated and over-the-top, and even then, it will still be taken for satire. Because Nazis are utterly terrible, they built their movement on total bullshit that they dressed up in shiny boots and Hugo Boss uniforms and German exceptionalism and “glory”. This song-and-dance number about “Don’t be stupid, be a smartie, come and join the Nazi party” only ever deserves to be a joke, as the Jew who wrote it can tell you. Nazis fucking suck and it’s hilarious that anyone would ever suggest otherwise.

There’s justice in reducing Nazis to self-parody, and doubling down on that by making a joke about them being reduced to self-parody. Especially when said self-parody and depiction of it is crafted by the very people Hitler tried to destroy. No one enjoys or masters mocking Nazis like the Jews. Plain and simple.

Joking about awful things and how terrible they are can be a good way to process things and not allow them to hurt you anymore. Comedy, at its core, is a defense mechanism against horror and pain. There’s a reason slapstick is a classic subgenre of comedy that people have built entire careers around. Laugh at terror and pain to make it go away. Unfortunately, some of the things we manage to find humor in can really make you wonder if were all just terrible and have no limits.

Angela’s Ashes is a memoir by Frank McCourt about his impoverished, abusive, dangerous childhood in Ireland. In it, he chronicles his own starvation, life-threatening illness, abuse, and suffering at the hands of alcoholism and brutality from adult authority figures. He was a child laborer who went days without food while his father drank away the family’s money and abused the rest of the family, who often came down with horrifying illnesses as a result of the terrible conditions he lived in, and spent his formative years suffering along with all the people he loved. Three of his infant siblings die within the space of a chapter. We get a glimpse of the time when his father, overjoyed at the birth of his daughter, finds the will to stop drinking, stop mistreating his family, go to work, provide for his family, and just generally be a better person so that his children don’t have to suffer. For a short period, the McCourts have food, heat, and happiness. Then the baby promptly dies and Frank’s father is back in the pubs, once again squandering any pay he manages to acquire on alcohol and returning home at three am to scream at and beat his wife while his remaining children try to cover their ears and sleep on the cold ground.

Along with being praised for it being a both an unflinchingly brutal depiction of poverty and a testament to the triumph of the human spirit, the book is also praised for its humor.

Remember: Angela’s Ashes is a true story written by the very man who suffered through all of these horrible things. And it’s considered a pretty funny book. And the author who, once again, is the person who actually suffered all of these horrible things, actually did intentionally try to make people laugh as they read about that time he was in the hospital with Typhoid Fever and enjoyed it because it was the first time he’d been in a place where he was fed regularly and got to sleep in a warm bed.

Hilarious.

That being said, there’s satire and dark humor, and there’s just gratuitous, shock-jock bullshit. There are jokes that are terrible simply because of what they’re about and how they’re handled. George Carlin said that anything can be made funny, even rape, if you imagine Elmer Fudd raping Porky Pig.

If we can build entire films and musicals about how any pro-Hitler sentiment can only ever be taken as satire, isn’t that proof that you can joke about anything?

Yes, you can, but that doesn’t mean you should try, that the joke is funny, or that it’s alright, necessarily. Maybe Elmer Fudd, Porky Pig, and Springtime for Hitler prove that anything can be made funny and that’s okay. But if that’s true (and no, I’m not saying that it is), that still doesn’t mean every attempt at making something funny is either acceptable or funny.

Springtime for Hitler is not a get-out-of-jail-free card for any attempt to make a terrible subject the object of humor. Standards need to exist.

Unfortunately, the line between good or acceptable dark humor and simply gratuitous, insensitive, inherently problematic jokes can blur. The excuse of humor can only go so far. Yes, make light of Nazis. But there’s still a point where “humor” is used an excuse for people to act like assholes. And it’s an excuse that is used all too often. Radio Shock Jocks have been using that excuse to help reinforce racism and rape culture for quite a while. Whether certain dudebros like it or not, there’s a point where it stops being gross-out and just starts being gross.

Which brings me to Archer, the animated spy comedy on FX that premiered in 2011. Like many comedy series like Seinfeld or It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, a major part of the premise is that certain characters are, quite simply, terrible people. These characters and their abhorrent behavior is the joke. And, as the show is about spies, these terrible people are often put into highly dangerous, outlandish, and traumatizing situations.

So, the main characters, by virtue of their profession, spend a lot of time killing people in cold blood. Or trying to seduce or manipulate enemies. Or engaging in clandestine operations of sabotage that harm a lot of people. Horrible, violent things are going to happen, things violent enough to serve as narratives on their own. But most of the characters are as awful as the situations they encounter, so the horror is amplified. And it’s a comedy.

Indeed, in the first episode of the fifth season, we get the whole main ensemble recounting all of their actions and experiences working for the spy agency ISIS that we’d witnessed over the course of the show’s run at that point. Drag racing with the Yakuza, knee-capping the Irish mob, encountering human traffickers, 30 year affairs with the head of the KGB that only ended when the guy was blown up because one of the ISIS members had choke sex with the victim’s cyborg replacement, actual piracy, paying homeless people to fight for spectators, defling a corpse, defiling a different corpse, sexual assault, kidnapping the pope, blowing up oil pipelines, “smuggling Mexicans”

Yeah.

There are comedic arcs about cancer, illegal immigration, kinky S&M bondage murders, cocaine addiction… a lot of stuff, basically.

Now, take those situations, and add in characters who get aroused by things like homeless people, being choked, sex with food, and the thought of their mother dying. Who spend their weekends starting fires, making hybrid pig-people, rubbing sand into the eyes of their employees, competing in underground Chinese Fighting Fish tournaments, and calling in bomb threats so that they can get a table at a fancy restaurant. You get the idea.

And it’s all totally awesome and hilarious and god damn it I kind of love these characters.

This show has a season-long sub-arc about one of the main characters getting so aggressively addicted to cocaine that she not only consumes (literally) half a ton of it in the space of a few months, but almost gets her head chopped off for buying amphetamines from the Yakuza with counterfeit money. It’s one of the most incredible things the show has done.

Pictured: An absurdly self-centered man feeling genuine dismay and concern over his friend risking her life to achieve an unrealistic standard of beauty.

The title character has a butler named Woodhouse who practically raised him. One of the first interactions we witness between them is Archer not only threatening to rub sand into Woodhouse’s “dead little eyes”, but making him go out and buy the sand himself and check if they grade it, because he wants the sand to be coarse. He’s also done things like make the man eat a bowl of spiderwebs and deliberately keep him in the dark about his brother’s death and funeral.

Another character is a mad scientist and possible clone of Adolf Hitler who kills a young intern by giving him a drug designed to turn him gay. That’s one of the less disturbing things Dr. Krieger has done.

Frequent gags on this show include one guy repeatedly getting shot, another character repeatedly getting paralyzed (it’s complicated), people trying to remember the inappropriate puns that they wanted say as one-liners, the horrific abuse and neglect Sterling Archer has received from his mother his entire life, and basically everyone being a sex-maniac.

There are plots revolving around mind-control, drugging people, and hypnotism. You can imagine the paths some of those episodes go down. Yes, there is a character that has tried to sexually assault one of her sleeping co-workers. And later deposited two unconscious, naked coworkers in a bathroom stall with an octopus, in an episode that has already made tentacle hentai jokes. Yes, the openly gay character on the show is often the target of jokes about him being gay or a woman from his coworkers. Yes, the female lead, a black woman, is referred to as a “quadroon” at one point by one of the characters.

Yes, the following exchange of dialogue does take place in an early episode:

“Oh my god, you killed a hooker!”

“Call-girl!”

“No, Cyril, when they’re dead, they’re just hookers!”

And yet… Oh my god. How it manages to play around with stuff in an amazing fashion. For one thing, it is amazing how often this show skewers micro-aggressions and fucks around with stereotypes. And, despite how unabashedly messed up it is, the writing in it actually manages to be oddly pro-social progress in ways that most modern media doesn’t even seem to be aware of.

I take pride in my sex work and I will not put up with your bullshit!

For instance the “hooker” referred to in that exchange? (spoiler alert: she wasn’t really dead) She’s Trinette, and she an unbelievably refreshing and strangely progressive depiction of a sex worker. While she’s a minor character, every time she shows up, it’s awesome. Trinette is a sex worker who is unashamed of her job, a woman who truly does take pride in and enjoy her work, who does not put up with poor behavior from her clients, and is just generally awesome. She call people out and makes them pay for any mistreatment she receives, from calling out micro-aggressions by insisting on her preferred terminology for her profession (“Call-girl, you puke!”), shaming men for their sexual misdeeds (“How can you cheat on Lana bare-back?!”), demanding restitution for any injuries or threats she’s suffered (Threatening Archer into giving her his car after he fakes her death and stuffs her in a rug to fool Cyril into thinking he killed her), and determining her work and clients (“What about Trinette? She said that? Damn it!”). When she has a baby, she gives it her last name along with his father’s (“Magoon-Archer”) and she unapologetically proud of her Irish heritage. She’s easily one of the most functional characters in the show, and every one of her appearances on the show manage to defy at least one whore-phobic trope a minute. She’s the best.

Then there’s the show’s handling of race, which is mixed. While arguably the most important female character in the series (the show, despite its name, is very, very much an ensemble, especially as the series progresses. But in the early episodes when they focussed on fewer characters, she was the one who got the most screentime) is Lana Kane, a highly-competent (for ISIS) African American woman who is really, really well-developed, there is also the fact that she’s the only POC in the main cast. Granted, part of that IS the point. One of the earliest episodes is “Diversity Hire”, where, aside from Lana, the spy agency is so overwhelmingly white that they hire a “diversity double-whammy!” Conway Stern, a black Jew.

“Sammy Gay-vis Junior!”

Now, granted, that doesn’t sound great the way I describe it, but there are so many great moments in this episode alone. For instance, when Mallory Archer, terrible woman and owner of the spy agency mentions their lack of diversity, Cyril, the tragically white accountant and “nice guy” puts his hands on Lana’s shoulder and says he thinks they’re pretty diverse, a statement Lana finds hilarious. Cue Sterling Archer, other horrible person, telling Lana she’s “black-ish”, then responding to her offense at this with “Well, you freaked out when I said quadroon!”. The framing of this entire discourse is that Cyril and Archer are fucking idiots and Lana is of course taking offense because, duh, she should. The episode proceeds with a lot of references and discussion about racism, highlighting casual racism in a nuanced, funny, and organic way. For instance, Archer’s relief that Conway didn’t sleep with his mother. While Archer freaks out about anyone sleeping with his mother, regardless of race, Conway believes it’s racism on Archer’s fault. And in no way does the narrative act like he’s overly-sensitive or irrational for thinking that. Because the stereotype about black men seducing white women and fear from white men about this is still a very real, pervasive thing that has somehow managed to survive in our “enlightened” times. Of course Conway encountering a guy who displays a downright violent fixation on whether or not his new black coworker is sleeping with his mother will assume it’s a race thing. Because why would anyone be so preoccupied with such an idea? In that situation, it’s almost certainly based on the long-standing paranoia white men have about black men’s sexuality “conquering their women.” It’s one of the most common varieties of anti-blackness in existence.

Of course, since it’s Archer, who has kidnapped a LOT of people under the suspicion that they were having sex with his mom, we know this is the one case that it isn’t racism. It’s Archer’s disturbing, Oedipal relationship with his mother. He even kidnapped and threatened his role model, Burt Reynolds, for dating his mother. When he says “Not in a racist way” to Conway in this episode, it’s actually true. He’s just honestly that screwed up where his mother is concerned.

Conway’s conclusions on this, regardless, are still framed as a totally understandable. To the point where the episodes suggests that it would make no sense for Conway to think otherwise. Part of the joke is that no, Archer isn’t a horrible racist at all. He’s way too screwed up for his actions to be motivated by racism.

And before anyone asks, no, this wasn’t the “episode that acknowledges that racism is a thing.” You know the ones… The episodes that talk about race and why racism is bad to prove to the audience that they’re not racist, then proceed with the rest of the show, which never acknowledges race and racism again. There are frequent instances of highlighting racism, from violent outright bigotry to common micro-aggressions to clueless white people demanding how the thing they just did/said could POSSIBLY be considered racist! They’re not racist! How is THAT racist?! Cue Lana face-palming.

I just really, really like this. It doesn’t just end there, either. Racism is called out pretty frequently on this show, and not in a cliche, strawman way. Nor is it treated like something that only exists in the form of aggressively bigoted bad people shouting slurs and holding cross burnings. Nope. The “heroes” of this show just say shit that you could easily imagine someone saying in real life, shortly before getting defensive about any racism on their part. It’s treated as a common, pervasive thing that Lana and other PoC have to deal with every day, and the offense they take at it is treated as nothing short of sympathetic or justified (even in the cases of misunderstandings, like with Conway). This includes Mallory telling Lana to “put [the race card] back in the deck!” as reminder of how much of an unapologetic douche Mallory is.

It’s made clear: people say and do some super racist shit on a regular basis with realizing it or meaning to, and regardless, it’s still uncool and people have every right to get upset and call you out on it. See: Ray’s bionic hand at the end of season six.

Lana’s reactions and how they’re framed is usually pretty awesome. Mostly they come in the form of small, reasonable confrontations, which are never framed as an overreaction on her part. The fact that she “freaked out” when Archer called her a quadroon is framed as “well, duh, of course, she should.” Then there are instances like when she, Archer, and their child visit a high-end nursery school where they encounter a pretty obvious racist. The guy ignores and dismisses Lana at first, then expresses surprise at the fact that she’s the mother of the child (despite the baby being black), remarking about the “times we live in” and telling Lana “good for you!” when she informs him that yes, she is the mother, not the nanny or the maid.

Not all of the racism stuff stems from Lana being back, either. They skewer bigotry against Latinos on a pretty regular basis. When an Irish mobster rants about Latinos (he doesn’t refer to them by that name) “taking American jobs!”, Archer immediately calls bullshit, recalling actual history of the Irish being accused of that exact same thing during the mass immigration of the Irish to America during the potato famine, and it’s just as shitty and bigoted to say such things about immigrants now as it was in 1842. He is extremely irate about a mission ISIS is assigned to do on behalf of border patrol to  arrest people who just want to get a job, and he ends up siding with and befriending the Mexican illegal immigrants he encounters. All of this while aspects of certain Latinx cultures are often highlighted, often very favorably (“Ramone is Latino, so he’s not afraid to express affection.”)

That being said, there are still a lot of issues in the show. The lack of diversity is definitely an albatross around this show’s neck. Especially so many seasons after the “Diversity Hire” episode. While I do praise Archer for not treating racism as a thing that is rare and only needs to be addressed in one twenty-minute block of time, it is telling that the lack of diversity at ISIS is never addressed again.

Then there’s the approach to sexuality. The show loves gross-out sex humor, especially regarding Krieger. And the depiction of sexuality is actually pretty mixed. On one hand, the openly gay character in the show adheres to a lot of stereotypes about gay men: he mocks Lana about her “knock-off Fiacci drawers”, his go-to alias is “Carl Channing”, his free time is spent at raves, and he loves to make effeminate poses. He’s also a frequent target of homophobic jokes and remarks. His outrage at this is treated as being every bit as valid as Lana’s, but it doesn’t change the fact that their main gay character is basically ALL of the stereotypes, as are a number of the other gay characters.

“Alright! Were off to get our scrotums waxed!”

Then there is the sexual assault. Which, once again, is called out for being what it is, in defiance of many common biases (such as the idea that female-on-male sexual assault isn’t a thing). But this show is way too flippant about this.

While I consider Archer to be very sex-positive, allowing every character, regardless of sex, age, or orientation, to be comfortable and expressive about their sexuality without judgment (a lot of jokes, yes, but not any that come off as particularly shaming). Almost every character, male or female spends a fair amount of time naked or scantily clad. We see Archer stripped down just as often as Lana. And the fan service isn’t relegated to just women who adhere to the typical youth and weight obsessed eurocentric standards we all know and hate.

Pam, who is a big woman (and often the target of fat jokes, which the show always treats as nothing short of detestable) is a total sex goddess who grows to be utterly confident in herself as a woman to the point where she’s giving Mallory (one of the most desired women on the show) advice. When she reveals that she keep ingesting cocaine because it’s made her thin with big boobs, Archer is utterly dismayed, telling her she was way better off the way she was, acting horrified that she’d risk her life to be “hot”, and just generally freaking out about Pam’s desire to be thin. It manages to avoid being cliche or empty given that Archer considered Pam the best sex he ever had before she got thin, to the point of blowing off assignments just to have sex with her, because she’s just that awesome. After she gains the weight back in season six, she’s still sexy, making Archer’s jaw drop in the episode “Edie’s Wedding.” She’s also unapologetically pansexual, which is awesome.

Mallory, meanwhile, is still actively sexual and treated as desirable. While sex and sexuality are always sources of gags and jokes on Archer, never do the jokes about Mallory’s sexuality ever come across as ageist. Sure, some characters make ageist comments on the show, but it’s never treated as valid. Mallory is still treated as being extremely sexy and confident about it. While Mallory is generally a horrible person, her enthusiastic sexual agency is never once treated as a flaw or something disturbing or gross. What’s disturbing, gross, and worthy of ridicule is her son being so preoccupied  and reactionary about his mother having a sex life. It’s clear: if you have a problem with Mallory having a lot of sex and enjoying it, you’re the one with issues.

Even the one young, thin, white woman in the main cast gets to be unapologetic about her kinks. It’s really only a problem when her desire for choke-sex motivates her to lead a KGB cyborg to the ISIS safehouse. Or when she coerces Cyril into sex. And generally acts like a violent, awful person.

Essentially, there’s no tolerance for shaming women for being sexual. All of it, regardless of preference, age, size, or race, is nothing but fun and should be enthusiastically represented. “Can’t talk, got a pussy to break!”

Being a predator is shameful. Having belly rolls is not.

Who on Earth finds this funny?

But, then there’s the flippancy about sexual assault. There ARE gags about Pam and Ray dropping their pants when encountering an unconscious Cyril. And sorry, but the framing of it is all manner of screwed up. There’s tons of sexual coersion as well. Another one of the most problematic instances comes in an episode of season two, where Archer is repeatedly sexually assaulted by a sixteen-year-old German socialite. The show goes out of its way to make it clear that Archer explicitly refuses consent, that he’s being violated, yet the show treats this as funny.

While I get that this is a comedy show and that in-depth exploration of the trauma of sexual abuse isn’t going to be something they can spend a lot of time on, the option they should have gone with is, you know, not base an episode around a german schoolgirl raping the main character. It’s not funny, guys. It’s not necessary. It’s actually just uncomfortable and off-putting.

The show mentions things like alternative gender identities, emotional triggers, and sexual exploration in ways that treat these things as totally valid, which is good. It also frequently portrays poor people as jokes in and of themselves, which is a lot less good. While materialism is lampooned frequently, it’s not treated as a joke in and of itself the way poverty is.

The way the show often portray legitimate abuse for laughs also often goes overboard. While the show does a good job of exploring and following through on all the ways Mallory’s abuse screwed up Archer, there’s a point where the volume of “abuse humor” gets to just be downright gross. Dark humor is one thing, not being able to go an episode without a “Haha, ten-year-old archer was abandoned in a train station at Christmas!” joke is, uh… Not great.

Archer is an awesome, immensely watchable show. But it’s not one I always feel clean watching. It’s a show that celebrates extremes, yes, but there’s a point where certain lines are crossed and it’s just problematic rather than gallows humor.

Archer is one of those series that really makes me struggle to distinguish the gallows humor from the simple tastelessness. To give pause to the idea of problematic content being the “point.”

The line blurs with Archer. A lot. It often manages to distinguish itself with the things it gets right, especially since they often do well on things that most shows, movies, and books are often terrible at. And that’s enough to buy it some goodwill for when they screw up.

But seriously, guys, please stop treating sexual coercion and child abuse as bottomless gag wells. I would have really preferred to have Pam and her awesome sexuality without her sexually assaulting Cyril and Ray. It’s not funny or clever or edgy. It’s just gross.

[nerdyfandomimagines]

Off-Screen

Word Count: 1837 Warnings: Fluff Here's your order, miss." The lady at the counter said, catching my attention. With a quick thanks, I grabbed the three cup trays and the bag filled with food and headed back to my car. I hated being on lunch duty, it was a five mile drive from the studio and it always took forever, with the insane traffic, the waiting in line during the lunch rush. Then waiting for them to make it all, then checking to make sure it's all correct. Lastly, I have to make it back with 11 drinks and a bag of food, with out spilling any of it. In stop and go traffic. Fun, right? If only. The guard let me in without a second glance. At least he didn't stop me, I'm already late. I park close to the door amd decide I'm going to have to make two trips, I grab the bag and two of the trays, leaving the third for later. I bump the door open with my hip, while trying to balance the trays. I drop the food on the snack table and run back out to my car. Once I get back in, everyone's crowded around the table grabbing their order. "Oh, good, there's more, I thought you forgot my order." British accents are the best. "N-no, I just couldn't carry it all, sorry it took so long, lunch rush, and the traffic was crazy." I stuttered, feeling bad. "I told you it'd be faster to walk." Followed by a hand being slung around my shoulder. I was one of the personal assistanton the Marvel set, I worked a few different jobs here. They hadn't started the actual filming yet, so I wasn't as busy, just prepping. That's why I was sent out for lunch. "No it wouldn't, the sidewalks are just as crowded, and plus I wouldn't have been able to carry it all." "Hm, that's true." "Of course it's true, Mel, you really think I hadn't thought of that." "C'mon we have to finish the last set, remember." She pulled me along, towards the back where we had to finish one of the house-like sets. *** "Hey! Melissa! Dammit, now I have to go change." She had flung paint at me, to get my attention. The walls were almost finished anyway, she could do it by herself. I stated walking back to my car, before I realized that I didn't have a change of clothes. Well, fuck. I really don't want to walk around with paint all over me all day, not that it's a big deal, I'm always covered in paint, but I hadn't put my smock on yet, and this was my favorite shirt. "Woah, what happened?" My head snapped up at the question that was obviously addressed towards me. "I- uh-" I found myself at a loss for words. I couldn't think straight, sometimes I wish I interacted with the actors more, maybe I'd be less shy. "Shouldn't you have a smock on?" Something clicked and I was able to form a sentence. "I just got back from the lunch run, I didn't have time to put it on. The girl I'm working with flung paint at me to get my attention." I felt my face heat up and I knew I was red. He was obviously amused. "Sebastian St-" "Stan." I finished for him, taking his outstretched hand. "I know who you are. I work on your set, plus, you're famous. Its kind of hard not to." I state, feeling the blush come back. I ramble when I'm nervous. He smiled. "Well, you know my name, it's only fair that I know yours." "Oh- uh, my name's Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N" "I like that name." I feel the blush coming back, so I look down and mumble a quiet thanks. "Are you going to change?" He questions. I blush even redder, this time from embarrassment. "I-well, I forgot a change of clothes, so I really can't." I stutter. He laughs again, his blue eyes filled with amusement. "You could borrow one of my shirts, although you should put a smock on this time." He smirks. My eyes widen. "No no no, uhm no, thank you, it's fine. I can deal, you don't have to let me borrow your shirt. I probably won't see you again soon anyway. I'm always busy and I rarely see the actors, unless we're filming, because I work with the set and uhm..." I trail off, realizing I'm rambling again. "Hm, that does seem to pose a problem. You can just keep it. It's fine." "No, no really I'm okay, I don't need to steal your clothing." "How about we make a deal. I let you borrow my shirt. And since you insist that you can't keep it and that you won't see me, you give it back to me when we go out to dinner. Saturday at 8, sound good?" I'm at a loss for words. I stand there gaping at him. He takes a pad and pen from the table I'm front of us, and I realize that we're at his trailer. He writes out his name, phone number and the details and hands it to me, along with a maroon colored shirt. He smiles and ushers me into the bathroom to change. I stare at myself in the mirror for a few seconds before stripping off my shirt and putting his on. It's big on me, but that's to be expected, I'm pretty small. I walk out with my shirt in hand and Sebastian takes it from me. "Hey!" " I'll wash this right now, and we'll exchange shirts on Saturday. See you then, Y/N." He says with a smirk ushering me out the door. I head back over to the set to finish cleaning up. This time I put a smock on, just in case. Mel did a great job finishing the wall, but left a mess for me to clean up. After I finish cleaning, I look around for Mel and find the studio almost empty. I check the time and realize how late it got. I hop into my car and drive home. God, it's been a long day. When I get home I do my usual routine, eat, shower, brush my teeth, watch some TV, and go to sleep. I threw Sebastian's shirt in the wash before I showered, so I wouldn't forget. We talked for five minutes tops, and he managed to organize a date. Honestly, that scared me. Was he always like that? I mean, was he just looking to hook up and I was an easy target? My mind was piling questions on top of each other and I couldn't think straight. Eventually, it went blank and I fell into a dreamless sleep. The last three days of the week passed slowly and quickly all at the same time. I did my best to avoid, not just Sebastian, but the rest of the cast as well, which wasn't too hard. When Saturday came around, I was all too happy to sleep until noon. The only problem was, Sebastian wanted to meet up. I mean, he didn't have my address, so I could just ignore the date and go about my life, right? I'd drop his shirt at his trailer, but what about my shirt? The familiar Star Wars theme played from my phone. I groaned and picked it up off the nightstand. "Hello?" I answered, a bit hostile. A deep chuckle sounded from the other side, followed by: "Did I wake you up, Y/N? Sorry, I didn't think you would still be sleeping. You never texted me, so I took it upon myself to get your phone number from that tech you're always with, Melony, right? No, that's not it.-" "Melissa." "YEAH! That's it. Thanks. So, about tonight. I wasn't thinking fancy, you don't look like that type of person. I was thinking maybe we could go out to that little diner in town and then head to my place for a movie?" I hesitated. At least at the diner, there were other people. I didn't know how to feel about being alone. "Y-Y/N? Are you still there?" "Oh- y-yeah I'm here." "You didn't answer. I was talking to Mackie about it, he told me that he overheard you say something to his makeup lady about the diner." "Did everyone else give their input as well? What about Chris? He's like your other half." I know he couldn't see me, but you could definitely hear the smirk in my voice. "You know, Chris and I aren't as attached as people think we are. Sure we're close, but we're not 'I would die for you' close. I mean I spend just as much time with Anthony." "I've noticed you spend time with Anthony. The diner sounds nice, and for the movie, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. It depends on how much work I have left to do." "Alright, be ready at 8, and text me your address. See you tonight, Y/N." "See you tonight." I repeated, hanging up and going into my messages. I typed in my address and hit send. The work lie was an excuse. I really don't know if I want to be alone with a man I just met, although its not like I don't know who he is. You get the idea. °°° Knock knock knock Shit. I dropped my pen and grabbed my bag. I practically jumped over the back of the couch to reach the door. "Are you ready for an adventure?" "Sebastian, we're going to the diner. Is that really considered and adventure?" "Yup." I sighed and followed him outside. "I decided, since it's a really nice day, that it would be nice to walk. It's not too far. Two blocks. Do you mind?" "Of course not." We walked in silence through the busy city, making sure to keep our heads down as to not draw attention. At the diner we were shown to our table and we ordered our drinks. The conversation stayed light as we talked about our jobs and the sheer contrast between the two. After dinner we took the streets once more, but instead of going to Sebastian's house, we walked through the park, keeping the conversation flowing. We talked about everything from past to future. By the time we left the park, it was already midnight. Sebastian walked me home and when we reached the door to my apartment he handed me my shirt and left me with a hug and a smile. I stepped in the door and locked it behind me, dropping the keys on the table. My shirt smelled like him and it made me smile. I put it back in my drawer where it belonged and my phone buzzed on the bed. I picked it up and read a text that brought a smile to my face. You up for date #2? Friday for coffee?

[dustiesmasseffect]

You used to be realy active and nice and freindly, and now it seems like you only reblog art and talk to your blogger freinds who you write MEL with. You ignor asks and you ignor fandom memes. What happened to suporting smaller bloggers? What hapened to you? Its like you got populer and just forgot about your old friends.

Hi Anon-

TBH, this message took me by surprise.

Let me try and unpack your Ask a bit because I feel likeperhaps I hurt feelings or did something wrong unintentionally. I also could gointo all the things happening in my life on the other side of this screen, butyou don’t need a bio (and I don’t think I should have to write one either).

First of all, I will say that I did actually make a postback in October about stepping back from the blog. This was a purposefuldecision of mine because I was spending a lot of my days in front of mycomputer during work, after work, andon the weekends scheduling and tagging posts. I was putting up 4 posts an hourfor 24 hours at the time, meaning I was tagging and scheduling nearly 100posts/day. I did this for several MONTHS. My social life took a dive, mysleeping schedule took a dive, and I wasn’t doing anything but running theblog. I call(ed) DME my “second job” when I talked about it with myfriends. That’s how much time I was spending on it.

Until about 2-3 weeks ago, I had cut the schedule back to 2posts/hour with a small queue running for a few hours during the middle of thenight. That’s still a lot of work for me, but it allowed me some personalpursuits off of the computer which is what I need to recharge.

With the new Andromeda trailers dropping more frequently andfandom content going into overdrive, I’ve had to up my posting schedule againto even try and keep up. Even when I’m “on top” of things I find I’mstill behind and I’m not catching up.

This breaks my heart because I feel like I’m letting peopledown. I am only one person though, so it’s important that it’s understood thatI’m doing the best that I can.

As for only reblogging art, I am sad to say that this istrue and I feel HUGELY guilty about it. The main reason why this happens isthat I want to read every piece of fiction I post and reading a story takes alot longer than looking at a work of fan art. I honestly have about 200 storiesfrom the fandom in my drafts that I want to read before I post. It’s horribleand rude and terrible of me. I can’t read it all like I want, I haven’t readANYTHING for fun in months, actually, because I’m too tired to when I finallyget to bed. It’s an excuse, yes, but it’s the truth.

I try to talk to everyone that messages me. Sometimes I’mable to reply right away and other times it can take me a week or two (ormore!) to answer. I’ve never been the best at conversations, even though I ambetter at written ones than verbal ones. (I am also terrible with replies because they take me forever to do.)

As for only talking to @omegastation and other MEL folks,that’s blatantly untrue and I’m not really sure where that assumption camefrom. I am sorry if it appears that way, but it’s definitely not the case. Yes,we talk, but those discussions of late are incredibly short and MEL business related andless of fun, “Hey what’s up and how are you doing?” convos.

In regards to Asks and memes, I actually try to answer asmany asks as I can and I often answer privately because that’s what’s warrantedby the message I’m sent. As for other Asks, I put a lot of time and thoughtinto them and they can take me quite a while to answer. However, because ofyour message, I’ve tried to go through as many of them as I can because it wasa task I had been neglecting. There are a couple of them that I will take sometime to answer still, but for the most part, I hope I’ve caught up.

Memes are also something that take me awhile to do. HonestlyI love(d) doing them for quite a while, but I became overburdened with themquickly. I also stopped getting emails from Tumblr over a year ago, so I onlysee posts I’m tagged in if I happen to see the tag in my notifications.Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Getting tagged in something is an honor andI am really happy that people think of me when they do them. 

It’s incrediblydifficult for me to do memes though because I want to do them right and notfast. I also get stressed and anxious about tagging other bloggers and doingchain messages because I always feel like I’m leaving people out and I don’twant others to have hurt feelings by not getting a message/tag. It’s a funpractice, but it can also cause hurt unintentionally. I kinda unofficiallystopped doing them for this reason. I want to tag EVERYONE, but I can’t, so Ijust don’t do them.

I support everyone and try to do so fairly. I’ve spent mostof my time in the tag now for the better part of a month, reblogging as much asI can. I know I’m missing posts but that’s basically because there is SO MUCHNEW CONTENT I cannot keep up. I try to reblog and showcase as many differentpeople and blogs as I can, but with the sheer amount of stuff going aroundright now, I am bound to miss some. I have considered opening my submissions tohelp with this, but in all honesty I prefer to reblog.

I haven’t forgotten about anyone. In reality this franchisehas a huge fan base and our “little” community that existed sixmonths ago has grown again as people have started coming back to Mass Effect asAndromeda approaches. Mass Effect 3 sold over 3.5 million copies on its own in itsFIRST MONTH OF RELEASE, which means that there are a TON of fans out there.Some of the fans weren’t as vocal until the Andromeda hype machines startedfull blast, but they’re back and excited now, and I’m happy that everyone ishere.

The thing is that now the community feels bigger and lesscohesive than it did last year. It’s not really, but it FEELS that way andthere’s so much content being produced daily that folks like me, who want toget as much Mass Effect in one spot, are having a hard time collating andorganizing it all. I physically can’t keep up, even if I spend all my wakinghours doing it.

Yes, I realize that perhaps my break seemed like I wasturning my back on the community and that’s definitely not the case. I had to step back for me and my mentalhealth. I miss the community and the friends I have here for sure. I misswriting! I miss talking to people about their Sheps. I miss lots of aspects ofTumblr that I was more active in 6 months ago. But I could not and cannot keepup with it all without it being detrimental to my life outside of the computerscreen.

I’m trying. I really am. I am sorry if I somehow missed apost of yours and didn’t reblog it. I’m sorry if there are mutuals who feelthat I’ve not boosted them enough. I’m sorry if I’ve left IM messagesunanswered. To be honest, I hardly feel “popular” and I kind of feelthe most hurt about that remark more than anything.

My goal has always been to make this blog a nice place forpeople to appreciate a game franchise they love and I hope I’m still doingthat, even if I’ve been unable to be directly in the thick of things for awhile now.

This is already much longer than I intended (or than itshould be) but clearly this is a topic that should be addressed.

I can only apologize for my extended “satellite” absence and ask for theunderstanding as to why I needed to and continue to do it.

Sincerely,Marina, AKA Dustie

[someone-who-needs-a-hoopoe]

I can't call this a liveblog if it's not live, right

@everyone-needs-a-hoopoe

HEY MEL HAPPY BURDDAY

It's starting. :D And by that I mean Avi's attempt at "live"blogging omegafrisk. Because, as you know, I've fallen ridiculously far behind and I have no excuse. There’s another tangentially related reason for why I’m doing this now of all times, but that explanation has to wait. It’s a bit more complicated than “Oh wait your birthday is coming up I should do something”.

Be prepared for rambling, less than perfect grammar, possibly incoherent comments, and screaming. I usually put a great deal more effort into writing posts/long messages/fanfic reviews etc., but it'd take me approximately forever to get anywhere if I tried the same thing with this blog, so I'll be writing this more like we're still in a chatroom. (...Which means that a lot of my comments may end up totally short and underwhelming. Tumblr as a system is being a tad too formal for my liking, darn.)

Anyway, so here's how this thing works! All of my posts including this one are scheduled. I don't have time to liveblog anything on a weekday, unfortunately, so I'm doing this on the weekend before. The time intervals in-between posts are still mostly preserved, although the actual time won’t match (I finished writing this post at 6:27 AM on April 15 and I'm scheduling it for 2:27 PM NZ time on April 20, for example). I may end up condensing/removing some of my longer breaks.

Before I start, I have to say this whole "project" was pretty spontaneous and last-minute (and I'm not calling it a birthday gift of any sort, half because I never intended it as one and half because it feels seriously inadequate as one), but it doesn't matter as long as it's fun, right? \o/

BUT IN ANY CASE I'M ACTUALLY STARTING NOW. Good grief, time is passing way too fast.

(Watch as my grammar steadily degenerates to chat message level.)

I'm...not even sure where I'm supposed to begin reading by now?? But I vaguely remember I stopped reading the asks (though not the comic) as early as October last year, and I think that was also about the time I stopped telling you my reactions to the comic in chat... Hmm. *scrolls through archive* Oh gosh I’m glimpsing some seriously awesome things in here already aaaaaaaa I’m excited

...Okay, I'll begin from October. Which was when you returned from trekking around China, heh. I'll just find your blog page for your posts at the start of October and then go towards More Recent, reading every page from bottom to top. There’s probably a more sophisticated way to do this with /chrono or whatever, but I’m too lazy. *starts putting in random page numbers*

Looks like posts from October 4th onwards are currently located on page 66 out of a total of...110 pages? What the heck that's more than half your blog. *facepalm* LOTS OF READING AHEAD

I should wrap up this post now, I think! I’ll reblog and comment on stuff I find interesting. I’m not sure if continuing to follow this blog is the best option for you, though, since I may end up clogging your dash just to get a couple of words onto your posts and it might not be worth all that scrolling...? I’ll tag everything with #maz reads omegafrisk, if you want to track that tag or just view it with /chrono on this blog. :D

Postscript: The reblog button on your blog themes is (still) a blessing.

[marytagus]

Felicity Smoak - A path of my own (III)

Note: This started as a thing that was brewing inside me because of the way Felicity Smoak is being the invisible elephant in the bunker but then @bringbackianto gave me the last push and I did Part I .  Part II came because I got a request to write what, in my head, came next. But what came next didn’t have the happily ever after or at least some light that guide the way to it and I asked if people wanted Part III and here we are. 

The Cave was colder than she remembered the gloves protected her fingers from the cold but made it harder to type.

Alena had been true to her promise and a flow of jobs was coming her way. Small jobs nothing high risk. Felicity tried not to think that maybe Alena didn’t trust her work, she hold on to the thought that Helix didn’t trust her enough yet.

She didn’t mind, small jobs kept her busy, without major risk, and brought in enough money for her to survive. Still the Cave was hardly touched, it still showed all the markings of having been attacked, anyone that came close would think no one was there and that was the point.

Felicity kept in touch with Donna. Over the weeks Donna had stop insisting in knowing where she was and had moved on to trying to convince Felicity to go back to Las Vegas. That was the last thing Felicity wanted. Has she did the job’s Helix sent her way she was also gathering intel on Palmer Tech. It was time. It was time for her to gain back what Ray had given her. Then and only then she would move, to Central City.

The phone beeped with a new message.

“New job. Same place. Alena”

Taking her hoodie and her backpack Felicity made her way to the Park.

Alena was already there.

“We need information on this subject.”

Felicity takes the small piece of paper Alena left on the bench.

“Same fee. Same timeline.”

Felicity exits as nothing had been exchange.

The ARGUS agent lurks inside a dark sedan. He has no knowledge of who the girl is but he has documented enough shady encounters to report to Mrs Diggle.

Lyla picks up the file on the activity of the hacker Sledgehammer, ARGUS suspects she’s connected to Helix and hopes that by tracking her she may lead them right to the leaders.

Her activity has been profuse and in the course of the investigation ARGUS had already been able to stop some minor hackers. The leaders however had been careful, so far.

The first photos show Sledgehammer aka Alena on her day to day activities, namely meeting subjects and giving them small pieces of paper that Lyla is sure are assignments. Every photograph with a new face is sent to Research for identification of the new subject.

The last picture in the file, however, didn’t need to be sent to Research.

Lyla calls her husband.

“John. I found her.”

Oliver is pacing restless on the Bunker.

“Where is she, Diggle?”

“She’s coming, Oliver. Be patient.”

Patience was something he didn’t have. He lost it about two weeks after Felicity left.

“She’s fine, Oliver.”

Lyla walks into the Bunker like the Sun has come in through the clouds for both her husband and Oliver.

“Here.”

Oliver takes the photograph. The hoodie covers her hair and part of her face but it’s her, he would know her anywhere. By her side a woman.

“Who’s that with her?”

“Alena. Helix handler.”

The rage threatens to overpower Oliver’s will but he struggles to keep it contain.

“The Park looks familiar.”

“The Glades.”

“She’s here? In Star City?”

“Yes, Oliver. I don’t think she ever left. At least we couldn’t find any traces of her leaving.”

“I’m going.”

“I’ll...”

Lyla puts a hand to her husband chest stopping him.

“Let him go, John.”

Ever since Verdant had closed Oliver had never returned. The new apartment buildings speeded fast outside but he didn’t even registered, there was only one thing in his mind, Felicity, and the moment he recognized the Park he knew where she was.

It had been home, once, more to him, but she was right, it had been her too home, their home.

Verdant sign welcomed him. The green had faded but the letters were still clear. A look was enough for Oliver to understand the door hadn’t been touched in years. Could he be wrong? Maybe Felicity was somewhere else.

No. Oliver smiles to himself. No, he knows her. His mistake during all this painful month was thinking he didn’t.

He steps around to the entrance at the ally. The door had been used, it’s ill treated but the ground is scraped, signs of something or someone coming and going.

Oliver opens the door with ease. It’s dark inside. Debris everywhere, a shade of what it once was. He let’s the door close shut behind him. Silence is his only welcome, but as his ears adjust to the absence of sound he hears it, the soft humming of her computers. Music to his ears.

Walking inside is a dangerous task, which he learns the hard way when he bumps into some kind of metal sheet. Picking up his phone he checks the ground, it’s not a metal sheet it’s a side of his Salmon Ladder that fell to the ground. To the side a bit of table rests on the ground. It’s enough for him to sit. The phone light fades and darkness surrounds him once more.

“I’ve missed you, Felicity.”

He knew she was there, he could feel it, but only silence answered him.

“How did we get here?”

Again silence.

“How...?”

He couldn’t kept his voice steady.

“We both left, Oliver.”

The relief of hearing her voice is physically painful.

“I needed to find my way to happiness. You taught me that,Felicity.”

Oliver waits a beat, two.

“And I lost my way, Oliver. I need to find it.”

“Have you?”

“Not yet. You?”

“I think I did. Now.”

“Susan makes you happy. I’m glad.”

Susan? He almost forgot about her. It was almost a month since they were together. It was almost a month since she was just a reporter on City Hall. Exactly the time it took ARGUS to find Felicity.

“No.”

Her low giggle echoes the Cave. He drink the sound like a thirsty man drinks water, it’s been much more than a month since she laugh, the small giggle makes him remember the last time he heard her giggle, they were still together, it was the night he ask her to marry him. So many things had pass, so much pain.

“Oliver you can’t know if I’m glad or not.”

Lost in memories Oliver forgot what was the conversation about.

“Susan doesn’t make me happy.”

Only she could, he was sure of it now, if any doubt ever existed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

He wasn’t. Talking to the darkness was fine and good but he needed to see her, to touch her.

“Where are you?”

“Sitting in your bed.”

Oliver smiles. But it only takes him a moment to understand how hard the task of getting to her is.

“Can you help me navigate?”

“Where are you?”

“Just next to the Salmon Ladder.”

“Can’t do it anymore.”

A brief moment of panic.

“What?”

“The Salmon Ladder. It fell. As soon as you are free from the top of it you can walk straight. There’s small debris but you will get here safely.”

Soon he can distinguish her figure sitting still on the bed.

He just wants to hold her and never let go but he doesn’t dare. Still her warmth sends a shiver down his spine the moment he sits by her side.

“I missed this bed.”

By the sound of her breath he knows she’s laughing.

“I bet.”

Memories of Sara come seeping in but soon it’s not Sara with him on the bed.

“It’s not that.”

“Not a very comfortable bed.”

It’s his turn to smile.

“Better than the floor.”

“I believe you.”

Silence lingers.

“Oliver, I can’t live forever in your shadow. Forever living your life and pretend its my life. I need my own life.”

It hurt. He needed her there with him, he need her in his life, as he needed to be in hers.

“Helix isn’t giving you that, Felicity. They are dangerous.”

“You know about them.” she’s not even surprise “You are right, they are dangerous, as I was, once.”

“You weren’t like them, Felicity.”

“You didn’t knew me then. Still, I don’t care to join them, I just need them to get myself back to my feet.”

“I could do that, Felicity, I could help you.”

“Too risky. Besides you are busy, you are all busy, with Prometheus and City Hall and all the rest.”

“I’m never busy for you, Felicity.”

She freezes and he knows why, he’s lying.

“Sorry, I was busy, but most of all I was giving you the space I thought you wanted me to give.”

“Space...”

Oliver nods before he recalls it’s too dark for Felicity to see.

“Yes.”

“I felt alone, Oliver. Just... alone. But I won’t get in the way to your happiness.”

“That’s the issue right there.”

“What is?”

“You are my happiness, Felicity. It’s no use trying anything else...”

Felicity sharp intake has Oliver holding his own.

“I need you, Felicity. Go and build your life, I won’t stop you. Do whatever you want just give us another chance.”

Oliver feels Felicity hand searching his face, his lips, and his ready when her lips touch his. His hunger meets hers, the perfect match. Felicity allows him to lay her on bed.

“Are you sure?”

“You are my always.”

As the words of his wedding vows echoes the Cave they lose themselves in each other. Home once more.

All well that ends well

@vaelisamaza @hope-for-olicity@tdgal1@bindy417@supersillyanddorky06@emmaamelia95@coal000@miriam1779@felicityollies@eilowyn1@taurusclh@jules85@scu11y22@quant-um-fizzx@memcjo@dmichellewrites@bringbackianto@mogirl97@laurabelle2930@oli-feli@oliverfel4@mel-loves-all@spaztronautwriter@cruzrogue@bekaoperetta@cndyprfumegirl@somewhatinvisible@charlinert  @almondblossomme @oliverdant @callistawolf@jbuffyangel @felicitys @fadinglands @nalla-madness@geniewithwifi @yespleasehawkeye@hisbabygirl18love@kathrynelizabeth89@laurabelle2930 @smoakandarrow @smkkbert @yet-i-remain-quiet @cruzrogue @musicxloverx1320 @just-arrow @kajunblueyes @clokiko @pharmalen@readerkas@maaaaaaarts  @winstallenski @mariel-olandag @marianamurias@marniforolicity@natashaatwell @aichaaa12 @oliversmoakly @arrowolicity88 @jaspertown@malafle @cinfos @sadfangirl05 

[lauraramargosian]

Positive Celebrity Exclusive: Joseph O’Brien talks about AGT, music and his childhood! 

Positive Celebrity Exclusive: Joseph O’Brien talks about AGT, music and his childhood!

AMERICA’S GOT TALENT — “Auditions 5” Episode 1305 — Pictured: Joseph O’Brien — (Photo by: Trae Patton/NBC)

America’s Got Talent has raised the bar to a new level for talent since cuts. The heat is on and talent have been working their hardest to show their skills to the judges and to the world. But, regardless of the challenges they’ve each faced, it’s been a positive journey on the show for all acts.

In the end, every participant would like to win, but whatever the outcome, the experiences along the way are priceless.

Joseph O’Brien’s audition was packed with personality. He chose to take on Lionel Richie’s “Hello,” while playing the piano. He mentioned being nervous, but we think he did a fantastic job. Hello is a classic. It’s a difficult song to take on, and even more so when you’re focused on drawing the audience into the performance as a whole.

O’Brien nailed it.

The judges–Howie Mandel, Mel B, Heidi Klum, and Simon Cowell–all voted “yes,” sending him to the Judge Cuts.

During his second audition, O’Brien told us he had more confidence in his abilities. He even joked about being “single and ready to mingle,” which made the audience laugh. His ability to connect with others is just one of his many incredible qualities.

O’Brien took on Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling,” while playing the piano, for his second performance. The judges stopped him because they didn’t feel it was the right choice. Joseph went on to do an original. That performance was strong enough to push him into the Quarterfinals.

Joseph O’Brien’s original is called “The Average.” He performed it with such powerful emotion and passion.

Regardless of his anxiety in front of the large crowds, he’s pulled of excellent performances and made it look easy.

We recently had the opportunity to talk with Joseph O’Brien. We learned a lot more about his journey on America’s Got Talent. He shared a few reasons why he chose to audition for AGT.

Positive Celebrity Exclusive: Joseph O’Brien talks about AGT, music and his childhood!

“I decided to audition for AGT for a couple reasons. I grew up watching clips of AGT on YouTube and dreamed of the day that I would be standing on the X talking to judges like Simon, Heidi, etc., and answering questions! Also, my goal is to do full-time music, so I saw AGT as a sort of platform to push me closer to that goal. AGT seemed to be the best place to showcase original content, vocal ability, and instrumental performance simultaneously!”

Joseph O’Brien’s voice is incredible. We told him so. He shared with us about his musical family.

“Haha! Thank you, first of all! I grew up in a musical family, so we all sang. The idea of becoming a full-time musician didn’t occur to me until about my high school year. People began to really affirm my songwriting ability and musical gifts, which pushed me to keep crafting and stewarding. The funny thing is that I don’t like to hear myself sing, a lot of the time. I can recognize being on pitch, but sometimes I just don’t like listening to myself. It weirds me out. So when people say I have an incredible voice, I always chuckle because I can’t hear it myself.”

That’s so relatable. There are so many people who don’t like to hear their voice, but when you’re surrounded by positive people, who push you to be the best version of yourself, you can reach your dreams and goals so much easier. And his voice deserves to be heard.

Could you imagine performing for such a large audience?! We wanted to know how Joseph felt before and after his audition.

“At the time, I was scared. Scared to see how everyone would react to my audition. I was dealing with some major anxiety during the day my audition would air. Thankfully, people seemed to really relate to me and my story, and they also seemed to enjoy the performance! It’s super encouraging whenever I get comments and messages of real affirmation, and even messages that tell me I should be more confident.”

Could you guys imagine performing in front of a large audience?! It’s, no doubt, an absolutely nerve-wracking experience. But, it’s a fun and irreplaceable experience, due to the personal growth and boosting of confidence that takes place throughout the journey. Joseph O’Brien shared a little insight into the benefits of being on America’s Got Talent.

Joseph O’Brien — (Photo by: Trae Patton/NBC)

“I think being on AGT has helped me with my confidence, and dealing with anxiety. I’m a perfectionist. And if you ask any friend I’ve ever had, they’ll tell you that after every performance in the past, I’ve beaten myself up about it hardcore. I want every note to be pitch perfect and I want there to be no mistakes. If I make mistakes, I dwell on those after the performance, rather than the positives. I’ve slowly learned that there is no such thing as a perfect performance, and there is always room to improve. I’ve learned that taking risks in a performance is important. Sometimes, I like to stay in a really nice vocal range, where I don’t have to go for anything. But in order to reach a new level of performing, you have to reach for those notes you hit in private, and make them public, even though you know it takes great skill, concentration, and confidence.

Truth! O’Brien had some advice for those thinking about auditioning for AGT!

“I would say this… and it may surprise some or may not. Go, and see what happens. I went to Nashville for my open city audition, and that was a hard city to choose. I auditioned with probably 10,000 other people that day, and maybe half were musicians… IN NASHVILLE!!! They were all trying to make a break and get onto the show, and little ol’ Joseph, from Columbia, TN ended up getting his shot. I didn’t even think anything would come from my audition. And that’s what everyone’s mentality should be, I think, cause then you’ll be very pleasantly surprised if something does happen. Go and meet people, go and take in the experience of everything, and go have a good time! It really is a different world, and you can meet some great people. So, don’t go to an AGT audition thinking your whole career is on the line. Go and just see what happens!”

Perfectly said! Get up and make your dreams come true!

Positive Celebrity Exclusive: Brody Ray talks AGT, his transition and the LGBTQ community!

Joseph O’Brien has an incredible voice and heart. He talked a little about his favorite charity.

“My favorite charity is Compassion International. I’ve seen my dad work with them, and he has nothing but high praise to give them. He studied them and their program for quite some time, making sure that they did whatever they said they were doing. And he couldn’t find anything shady or problematic. I would love to work with them at some point.”

Compassion International is all about helping children. Their official website talks about helping children in poverty.

“Compassion International is a child-advocacy ministry that pairs compassionate people with those who are suffering from poverty. The ministry releases children from spiritual, economic, social, and physical poverty. The goal is for each child to become a responsible and fulfilled adult.

Compassion International’s work has grown from modest beginnings in South Korea in 1952, when American evangelist, Rev. Everett Swanson, felt compelled to help 35 children orphaned by the Korean conflict. Today, it is a worldwide ministry, where millions of children are now reaping the benefits of one man’s clear, God-given vision.”

There is a lot of incredible talent on America’s Got Talent, right now. There’s such a variety of performances, we were curious as to which acts Joseph enjoyed the most.

Positive Celebrity Exclusive: Joseph O’Brien talks about AGT, music and his childhood!

“Wow. That is incredibly tough. There is some incredible talent for sure. I’m honored to be a part of this season of AGT cause there is so much good talent. I’ve been thoroughly impressed by We Three. They caused me to tear up in their first audition. They have good songwriting skills and powerful arrangements when it comes to production. I enjoyed both Shin Lim’s and Rob Lake’s acts. I’m a huge magic nerd, so I appreciate both of their acts. UDI really got a hold of me during the second round. I’ve loved every singing golden buzzer… they are all incredible. But yeah… SO MUCH GOODNESS in this season!”

We were curious what O’Brien would be up to if he weren’t on AGT right now.

“I’d probably be at college, doing massive loads of homework, while on the weekends yelling at kids to get off the top of the monkey bars at the trampoline park. So yeah. I’m in a good spot right now. Haha!”

Hilarious!

We asked if funny things happen to him. He shared an experience with his brother that really shows his amazing personality.

“Hm… I really don’t know. Funny things happen in my life all the time. Today I was filming a commercial with my brother for our old high school, and I had to pretend like I was talking to my little brother for an interview, and I couldn’t keep a straight face. Neither could he. We both just died laughing for some reason and had to start over so many times. Small, funny moments are the things my little brother and I will remember forever.”

Don’t you think Joseph O’Brien sounds like an incredibly fun of a person to hang out with?!

Next to having a funny personality, Joseph O’Brien also has a deep side and shared what life means to him and what brings him the most satisfaction.

“Whoa! Deep question. Life is most meaningful when you don’t live for the glory of yourself. The greatest purpose in life is to live for something higher. We’re all short breaths in time, so living for something that has eternal value is of the uttermost significance. As the Westminster Catechism states, “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” That’s what I’ve held on to ever since I was a kid.”

That’s inspirational and thought-provoking. I agree that “living for something that has eternal value” is very important in life.

Positive Celebrity Exclusive: Joseph O’Brien talks about AGT, music and his childhood!

O’Brien then shared a little about his favorite childhood memory, movies, and his favorite food!

“Playing tennis with my brothers was always so fun. Sometimes we would go to the park and play ‘King of the Court’ for 4 to 5 hours in the heat of summer. Sports in general, with my brothers, were always my most fond memories.”

We dug a little deeper and asked Joseph O’Brien him what people likely don’t know about his personality.

“I really like chick flicks. Particularly, BBC movie/series chick flicks… Things like Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Jane Eyre, etc… I mean, I love my superhero movies, yet honestly, I have no shame right now. They are really good movies.”

On his favorite Movie:

 “Bolt.”

On his favorite food:

“Chilighetti (Pour chili on top of spaghetti noodles).”

That’s awesome! And yum, if I might say so myself.

Be sure to follow Joseph O’Brien on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. That way you can stay up-to-date on his latest news!

Did you guys catch his audition performance? If not you can check out his first audition and second performance. And don’t forget to let us know what you thought in the comments below!

Blessed be!

Joseph O’Brien performs “Hello,” on America’s Got Talent! Check out his audition!

Joseph O’Brien Original Song “The Average” his 2nd Chance America’s Got Talent 2018 Judge Cuts 2 AGT

The post Positive Celebrity Exclusive: Joseph O’Brien talks about AGT, music and his childhood!  appeared first on Positive Celebrity News and Gossip.

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[inspirechenge]

day 2 (less than 48 hours post)

the worst thing about breakups: the waves 

it ebbs and flows, all of the emotions flowing in, swirling around, and torrenting out. i hate it. i hate it more than anything. i hate the roller coaster. i hate the cruel thoughts, running 100 miles a minute. i hate the sudden panic of a thought or a memory or a scent. i need to be steady, to feel anchored, to be at peace

but it’s different this time. regardless of the waves... they’re smaller. more manageable. more final. 

this time, i’m not distraught. i’m not inconsolable. i am strong and already picking myself back up. perhaps it was inevitable and something deep in me recognized that from afar. or perhaps it was over before it had even begun (again) 

this time, i’m managing. quite well if we’re being honest. i pick myself up and move out of the house. i mingle. i chat. i do all of the activities i intended to do prior to this, just with twice the challenge. but i do the damn thing. and that’s more than i can say i did previously 

the first night, i couldn’t quite sleep through the night. but last night, i slept like a baby with vivid dreams void of you. and that’s a wonderful thing 

it’s easier this time because it’s finally done. it’s all over. forever. and i am accepting of that. i’m not fighting it like i once tried to do. i am not thinking of what could’ve been, i am not thinking of how i could’ve changed, i am not hoping for you to come back. i am thinking of the future without you and moving forward. and i am okay with it 

i cry when i think of how thoughtful my friends have been

sweet al picking me up, driving me around to see the city lights, holding my hand while i silently cried, listening to me babble, delivering soylent to me when he knew i couldn’t stomach a full meal

nicole, welcoming me into her arms (literally), holding me as i weeped into her hair, listening to my thoughts running out, sending me empowering messages, making sure i stay on top of my shit 

mel, the one who has done it all, immediately rushing to defend me, support me from 650 miles away, giving me strength in words like no one else can 

krishna, racing to call me the night of, comforting me as she has done previously a countless amount of times 

asheema, casually watching from the sides and swooping in to pick up the pieces even through the disapproval

my sister, planning trips, supporting me, hating him only as a sister could, helping me to see what i should see with clear eyes 

all of them, saying “i wish boys were better to you”. i wish that too. i wish i didn’t only know relationships through sadness and anger. through betrayal, through inconsistency, through pure shit 

but it’s okay. i’ve never been more confident in myself or in my ability to be who and what i want to be. i look forward to the future, to my career, to the thousands i’ll one day be able to steadfastly serve. i look forward to the endless list of opportunities i am now presented with. and this time, i feel utterly confident, emboldened even, that i am truly never, ever going to look back 

[horseshoecrabs]

oh to be known by your friends.