#this rant is directed at simultaneously no one and several people

[babsbabbles]

stop telling me I need to move out challenge (impossible)

[winterinhimring]

The Art of Character Development in the Republic Commando Series

As many of you know, my love for the Republic Commando series is deep and enduring, and a large part of it centres on the characters of Kal Skirata and Walon Vau. Because when I love something I analyse the heck out of it, I decided to take a dive into what, from a writer's perspective, makes the two of them so interesting. After several weeks of thought, at least one rant to my parents about how these guys are SO COOL, and lots of internal monologuing, I have come up with an answer, which is that both of them are well-written examples of character archetypes that are very easy to write wrong.

Kal Skirata is a very simple man. What you see with him is pretty much exactly what you get. He's a father out to protect his sons against any and all threats, and Force help you if you are one of those threats. There. I've summed him up. This type of character is easy to turn into a cardboard cutout with no real personality beyond his overriding, defining trait, and yet - of all the many, many accusations levelled against Kal (several of which I have addressed here and here) - I've never seen anyone accuse him of being uninteresting or one-dimensional.

I believe the reason for this is that Karen Traviss made his flaws logically proceed from his strengths. Kal's single-minded love for his sons is simultaneously a strength and a weakness: it motivates him to rescue them from the Empire and set up a network to get out other clones, but it also leads him to keep information from them and make decisions for them, sometimes in ways that he shouldn't. His habit of making (often correct) snap judgements of people and situations leads him to step in and rescue the Nulls, but it also causes him to misjudge some of Etain's actions. The end result is a character who is deeply, painfully human, despite the deceptive simplicity of his motivations.

Now on to Walon Vau. Where Kal's motivations are almost entirely transparent, and a lot of what he does, you can predict from them easily, Vau frequently subverts the reader's expectations. The first time you meet him, he's been built up as a bogeyman for almost the first fourth of the book. You learn that he's responsible for Atin's scars, that he's a man who specialises in interrogation, that he makes Kal (a hardened mercenary) visibly uncomfortable...and then the first time you see him, he has this massive six-legged dog sprawled over his lap and is rubbing its ears and generally doting on it, as it drools on everything in sight. Allow me to add that this is in the middle of a military planning meeting. Huh? What happened to the bogeyman?

And that's only the first time he goes in a very unexpected direction. As soon as he's been established as a hard, cold, closed-off man who doesn't get involved with his trainees' lives more than he needs to in Triple Zero, he goes off in True Colors and (a) empties out an entire bank vault - when he is notably averse to stealing in general - to fund Skirata's clone ageing cure, and (b) gives Ordo a multi-million-dollar engagement gift for his girlfriend, just because he can.

Despite his habit of going off in entirely unexpected directions, however, Vau's actions actually make more sense the longer you think about them and the more you know about him. Each book casts new light on his past actions by revealing a new level of motivation - often one based in tragedy. However, he is never reduced to the sum of his past trauma, which is another common mistake in writing a traumatised character. He slowly but surely shows himself to be able to recognise his poor coping mechanisms and their impact, and by the end of the series he's beginning to improve them.

All in all, both of these men are excellent examples of how to take a character type that's often reduced to something that feels less than real or human, and make it both real and deeply compelling.

Taglist: @leias-left-hair-bun-again, @trashcanmando, and @kanerallels. DM me to join (or leave) the Repcomm taglist.

[mithliya]

1) When I said "the side that puts lesbians over bi women" I meant radfems who center their feminism around lesbians (which is not wrong at all before you jump at my throat accusing me of lesbophobia again)

2) And all of my rant was directed at the entire side of radblr that displays such behavior. I am not putting words in your mouth. I am talking about a legitimate issue on here. All the things I ranted about are not all accusations aimed at you personally but radblr in general.

But I remember approaching you before about the one woman who sparked up controversy on here about lesbians and you did tell me "it's just one lesbian...."

3) You don't take any lesbophobic shit but you sure as hell tolerate prejudice against bisexuals and also police on their experience as bisexuals (that bi male called you out on that and you weren't even able to come back with a response).

4) You also did say "it's not my job to police on how people express their anger at homophobia" as a defense for desisapphic. Do you realize how much you sound like racist white women who don't care about how they speak about moc when talking about misogyny faced by woc?

5) "I love how you implied that I could not a be CSA victim"

Where did I imply that? Literally where? Me pointing out rape culture perpetuated by a radfem is implying that you couldn't be a victim? Ok ma'am.

6) "Biphobia is an individual prejudice" yeah well I don't use the word "biphobia" yet because I haven't yet found any argument that biphobia is actually "bi"phobia and not homophobia and misogyny. But it's not an "individual" prejudice. A huge chunk of the community deals with the prejudice. That's what I am trying to say. It's something a lot of people deny. And again this isn't a personal accusation thrown at you.

7) And again the same person reblogged from you saying that her not believing the csa victim is not "as bad" and that he's actually lying. Why? All because he posts about bisexual experience?or because he's male? Man I know rape against men is rare but csa against boys is much more common. And csa in general is much overlooked by society. This is the 2nd time this has happened and I hope you're not ignoring that on purpose.

And this is doe the radfem who did accuse the csa victim of lying- fuck yourself if you think csa is not as damaging and severe as homophobia and you can be excused from it. I don't trust feminists like you at all because as much as you claim to fight for women it's only a matter of time till you throw us under the bus as well just for calling out on your bs. You would rather let a victim suffer instead of shutting the fuck up about people's trauma.

8) "All I said was that behavior is something that can be shown by any group and not just lesbians"

Yeah which is why I included straight women in my rant too. The problem isn't that bi women are overwhelmingly blaming lesbians for their problems. Straight people are homophobic obviously and nobody expects much better from them. But bi women do expect more empathy from lgb community. And the problem is that all issues that bisexual women come up with about their ipv or SA or anything else (without even mentioning the sexuality of the perpetrators) they are immediately accused of lying and faking.

Similarly I pointed out the hypocrisy of the same people who say bi women target lesbians but deny that lesbians (or gay men) aren't doing the same against the bisexuals (the "faking their sexuality" point is what I am referring to).

This is not just an issue of prejudice against bisexuals but homophobia and especially misogyny. Amazing how there are radfems who stand up sm for Amber Heard and simultaneously fail to see her trauma as one of the results of the unique prejudice faced by bi women.

you mean this? me saying someone whos not a radfem is not a radfem and saying a lesbian saying misogynistic stuff will immediately be criticised n result in lesbophobic generalisations whereas bi & het women being lesbophobic is generally ignored?

or this one? bc neither of these posts are me saying "only one lesbian ever has ever used this sort of terminology" and its p obvious to me that thats not what i was saying either.

anyways "lesbians that put lesbians over bi women / radfems who center their feminism around lesbians" and then point 2 is u saying ur ranting at lesbians prioritising ourselves even tho its "not wrong at all" to prioritise lesbians. which is it? and if its not about me why did u rant at me in accusatory manners lmao?

weird about the bi man bc once again the entirety of what i said was "hmm good point" to one post and me saying "yeah the lesbian masterdoc contributed to this" ....so again, where did i dictate anything about bisexual experiences? the bi man yall are happily tokenizing came to my dms not long after to apologise to me and said that he shouldn't have been placing the blame of what others are saying on me. we came to an understanding and left it at that. so im gonna ask again, what experiences did i dictate? bc i myself said absolutely nothing and was even arguing my perspective in the notes of the same post. what prejudice against bisexuals did i tolerate btw? bc last time u and others were hassling me for taking issue w someone calling women dicksuckers but apparently not enough bc i wasnt hating on lesbians while doing so.

"Do you realize how much you sound like racist white women who don't care about how they speak about moc when talking about misogyny faced by woc?"

wow amazing, youre equating a lesbian of colour venting about bi women being homophobic to her to racist white women being racist to moc?? please tell me what privilege do lesbians have over bi women?

i dont think you know what an interpersonal prejudice is or what i meant by that. it doesnt mean its just one person. you seem to have comprehension issues.

im not bothering with the rest of your bullshit rant. im once again asking why youre directing your complaints with some lesbophobia sprinkled in at me instead of the people you actually take issue with. "this OTHER PERSON said something and im offended ur not offended by it! so heres a whole essay from me about it!" is the stupidest fucking shit you people keep directing at me. i have a life and id rather not sit there dealing with you complaining at me for not complaining at other people. go deal with them yourself since you take issue with them but maybe you guys should stop viewing me as your personal attack dog, im not ur pet that u can call onto to attack the people u cant converse with urself. im not your personal customer service employee for u to direct ur rants at and demand refunds from. and i dont take kindly to being intentionally and repetitively misconstrued by some righteous ass that wants to rant at me for not going around fighting lesbians and justifying lesbophobia on their behalf. don't message me again or i might IP block u bc this shit is annoying and pointless.

[justcourttee]

Hey. Can you write one where the batfam visits Marinette at school and the class is just plain surprised and chaos ensues. You can include any salt (if yes, preferably Alya and a jealous Adien). Ship is daminette with sibling Jasonette or something like that. Thanks

Sorry It’s a little late! I hope this is something like what you had in mind :)) @long-lost-peace

Career Day

“-And it was just terrible Damian! Lila literally stood in front of the class and told them how she tried to get you all to come for career week, but that you all were just so busy in Thailand on a business trip that you just didn’t see how you could make it.”

Damian chuckled at his exasperated girlfriend. He knew how agitated this sausage haired woman made her, but his laughter couldn’t be helped. After all, every time she enters a rant, her little nose scrunches up in the cutest way that he couldn’t help but compare to the hamster she’s always wanted.

“Damiannnn, this isn’t funny! I was literally going to ask Dick if he could come for Friday’s session, Madame Bustier knew that too! So for her to step up and claim that it was all her idea? Gods, now he can’t even come because everyone will praise her for ‘convincing’ him to show up.”

“I know my love, what if father and I show up instead? Dick is on a business trip in Thailand right now, attempting to expand the company into further international business, but I’m sure even he would drop the meeting if you asked.”

Marinette let out a sigh as she slunk down into her seat, only the top of her head visible in the laptop camera.

“I know he would, but I’m retracting my ask. I really don’t want to deal with the backlash. Besides, it’s getting late. Chat will be expecting me for patrol in an hour and I haven’t even started my homework yet.”

Damian nodded as they said their goodbyes before signing off his computer. His hand absentmindedly reached for the small token the Marinette had given him just last summer. It was a river stone that she had engraved with the name he had first called her; Hobi.

He spun the stone several times before gently setting it back in its rightful spot. If he wanted to help his love, then he was going to need more chaotic energy than his own. Picking up his phone, Damian dialed a number he had learned by heart over the years. The phone had barely rung twice before the man answered.

“What up demon spawn? Ready to cause some trouble for dear old dad?”

Damian rolled his eyes trying not to imagine what Jason could’ve possibly meant. Instead, he turned his focus to the task at hand.

“This is more important Todd. Marinette needs our help.”

There was a momentary pause on the other side of the phone and for a brief second, Damian was tempted to check to see if Jason had accidentally hung up on him. (it wouldn’t have been the first time.) He was both relieved and perplexed when a sound rang through the background that was suspiciously similar to a gun being loaded.

“Well, why didn’t you start with that Damian? Who exactly do I have to kill?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . . .

Career week couldn’t come to an end fast enough for Marinette. Hearing Lila’s false tears over her Damiboo and favorite brother-in-law not being able to make it despite her constant begging was both infuriating and a bit nauseating. She was almost certain that if Damian heard the word Damiboo uttered in a half-mile radius of himself, he would bring down his sword on that person’s neck.

“Alright class, settle down.” Madame Bustier walked into the room, an ear-splitting grin accompanying her. “We have a few very special guests to finish off this Career Week. In fact, one of your own classmates made this meeting happen!”

The class muttered excitedly as all eyes landed on Lila in the front row. Marinette placed her head on her desk, ignoring Adrien’s hand attempting to rub calming circles in her back. She was 100% done with this week.

“Please welcome Bruce Wayne and his associates here to talk about the world of Entrepreneurship.”

Several jaws hit the desks as Bruce walked in, Jason and Damian in tow, all wearing bright smiles. Marinette sat up so fast that her back crushed Adrien’s hand into the bench behind them.

“Ouch, excited much my lady?”

Marinette ignored his teasing as her eyes narrowed in on her boyfriend standing in the front of the room, an absolute shit-eating grin gracing his face.

“Oh no.” Adrien followed her stare down to the boy in the front of the room, instantly feeling a dislike for him. If his lady was uncomfortable, then so was he.

“Thank you for having me Madame Bustier and on such short notice. I realize that Marinette said it would only be my son Dick Grayson, but seeing as he was away for a business trip, I just knew I couldn’t leave our favorite Parisian high and dry.”

There was an instant silence across the room as all eyes turned from where Lila sat in the front row to where Marinette sat in the back. She wanted to shrink in her seat and disappear from the number of people looking at her, but it felt impossible.

“Anyways, I would like to start my presentation by stating-”

“Excuse me, sir!” Alya’s hand shot into the air, her stare intense as some of Gotham’s finest.

“Uhm I haven’t covered any information yet Miss, did you have a question about my flight?”

A few chuckles sounded throughout the classroom, but that didn’t seem to stop Alya as she stood, her arms crossed in front of her body.

“I believe you owe my best friend an apology. Marinette didn’t get you here, Lila did.”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back to where Jason and Damian stood.

“I didn’t get your girlfriend’s name wrong, did I, Damian?”

Damian shook his head, his grin pulling into a smirk as his eyes met Marinette’s.

“I would hope you didn’t father. After all, you have known her for years now.”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully as if considering Damian’s information as a possibility.

“So as I was saying, thanks to Marinette-”

“You mean Lila? Damian, how could you mix up your own fiancee with a shell of a human being like Marinette.”

Damian took a step forward, one hand on his shoulder holding him back as Jason sent a wink in his direction.

“Madame Bustier, if I understood right, Brucie here offered a free trip for your class to the Thailand location this winter if they could sit through just one measly presentation. Are you really going to let this rude child ruin that for the rest of the class?”

Bustier’s smile wavered as she turned her attention to where Alya sat, motioning for her to sit and zip her lips. With a great huff of annoyance, Alya compiled.

“Excellent, now that we can begin-”

“I’m just saying, Mr. Wayne. Lila did all this hard work, attended all your charity functions, helped your city’s heroes, and is betrothed to your son. How could you not recognize her?”

Madame Bustier tried to wave Alya down once more but it was useless.

“Alya, is it?” the girl nodded confidently as she slung her arm around Lila’s shoulders. “I suggest that whoever this Lila person is, you should reconsider your friendship with her. If you or she were caught spreading rumors about another billionaire besides myself, you might not make it off so easily. We take defamation very seriously as it could hurt our empires. Take that as lesson one for Entrepreneurship; always know who you’re working with.”

Alya’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water as she slipped back down into her seat, her eyes burning holes into the side of Lila’s head. With the new peace, Bruce continued his presentation with the full attention of the rest of the class. When the time came for questions, every hand but two were raised high.

“How about you sir? The blonde in the back beside Marinette.”

Adrien stood, his eyes narrowed in on Damian.

“You said the first lesson was to always know who you’re working with, well, did you know that your son is a liar?”

Another round of hushed whispers echoed through the room as Adrien took the first step down toward the front of the classroom. Bruce cocked his head to the side as he instinctively put out a hand to catch Damian before he could move forward.

“How would you justify that kid?”

Adrien stepped closer, his posture rigid as his stare never left Damian’s face.

“Well, he’s been telling you that he’s been dating Marinette, but that is a lie. Marinette is my girlfriend.”

Damian’s fist curled as Jason took a step to intercept the two boys.

“I think you forgot to put a space between the girl and friend sir. You see, demon spawn here and pixie pop up there are together, no space. You and pixie pop are just friends.”

Everyone’s eyes shifted uneasily between the men, unsure of who was going to strike first. No one was given the chance as Marinette raced down the stairs, pulling Bustier to the side. Her whispers were harsh and rushed and when she pulled back, all the color from the teacher’s face had drained.

“That’s enough Adrien, I wouldn’t want to bother your father over an inconvenience like this.”

The boy's mouth closed tightly as he turned his attention to where Marinette stood, a sudden feeling of nausea coursing through him. Did she really just pull that card here? In front of everyone?

He couldn’t say a word as he marched back to his seat, ignoring the many questions that were thrown his way.

“Well, I’m sorry to everyone that had real questions, but this stunt seemed to have taken up all of my time. Madam Bustier, do you mind if I check Marinette out of school early?”

The teacher could only nod as the men swept Marinette out of the room before she could protest. She waited until they had reached the car before turning on the men, hitting each of them as hard as she could. Three simultaneous ow’s sounded through the courtyard.

“Pixie pop, what was that for?” Jason’s whining was shut down instantly with one cold look.

“I told you all not to come! You totally just made everything worse.”

Bruce risked a step forward as he pulled her into a hug.

“Marinette, you mean the world to this family. Defamation to the Wayne family needs to be shut down instantly. That Alya girl is bad for your emotional state, the Lila one as well.”

Marinette tried to deny his accusations, but Bruce refused to hear any of it. He pulled back, opening the door to push Jason inside, slamming it shut before he could fight back. With the other two gone, Marinette was forced to face her boyfriend.

“Hobi-”

“Don’t start with your cute nicknames. What was that scene with Adrien?”

“He was the jealous one! I can’t help if he tried to attack me.” Damian crossed his arms in defiance, ignoring the daggers Marinette’s eyes were shooting.

“You know he’s just a friend mon amour, you are the only one I want.”

Damian grumbled under his breath as he allowed himself to be pulled into Marinette’s embrace. After a few minutes, he pulled back, a curiosity overtaking his face.

“What did you say to the teacher to cause her to stifle Agreste?”

Marinette’s smile was devilish. It would almost be cute if it wasn’t so terrifying.

“I just reminded her that defamation was taken very seriously and that if she didn’t stop Adrien, he could have started a full-blown legal battle between two very powerful men, leaving the school and her job in the crossfires.”

Damian placed a kiss on her forehead before moving towards the car.

“Hobi, you amaze me at every turn.”

Marinette rolled her eyes as she allowed him to help her into the car. She would deny till her last breath that she was grateful for that particular Career Day, but the one thing she couldn’t deny was how much she loved the Wayne boys.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @long-lost-peace @heaven428 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava

[dameronology]

a world on fire {poe dameron}

summary: passion is good, fire is good - but breathing is more important (based loosely on just a lover by hayley williams, naturally) 

warnings: mentions of infidelity, language 

i just love angst. i really love angst. i like to hurt. enjoy :)

- jazz xx

Poe Dameron was a paradox. 

On one hand, he was a complete bad-ass. The best pilot in the Resistance and righthand man to the General. He was a leader in the making and everybody looked up to him, even when he was chaotic as fuck. The way he went into battle with his common sense both simultaneously present and no-where to be found would go down in the history books. His parents’ spirit and good-natured lived on through his selflessness. He was untouchable, in a way; a man made of titanium with a never-ending wit and a will of steel. A hero. 

On the other hand, he was...Poe. Your Poe. The man whose eyes lit up when he spoke about his late mother; the man who turned up at your door at 5AM in floods of tears because he’d just finished a book and had to tell you about it.  Poe with the warm brown eyes and lopsided smile, whose brows creased together whenever he got a little confused about something. Poe, who left you little notes around the base when he knew you were sad, and brought you random gifts back from his trips to other planets just because. Completely complex and yet entirely understandable, but one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, inside and out. 

Especially now. At 5am, under the thick canopies of the Ajan Kloss jungle; the air around you was stuffy and fresh in equal measures, casting a cold chill over your bare arms and legs. It was raining, but not really. The sort of dumb rain where you smell it in the air and see it hit the ground, but never quite feel it on your skin. Poe had called it soft rain. Still, you would have taken it over a storm, because you only wearing a baggy old shirt and some pyjama shorts. 

Poe was stood opposite you in a similar attire - except instead of opting for boots, he was still wearing his Ewok slippers (albeit, slightly soggy Ewoks). You were perched on a log with the pilot stood a few feet away; he’d been ranting for the better part of fifteen minutes, but you’d zoned out long ago. His dark curls were sticking to his forehead thanks to the rain, and he had that spark in his eyes that they held whenever he was talking about something he loved. It was an easy sight to get lost in. 

‘Anyways, so I know you took dances classes a kid and I was thinking you could help me-’

‘- woah, when did we get to that?’ You blinked in surprise. 

Poe rolled his eyes. ‘You zoned out again, didn’t you?’

‘I’m sorry!’ You groaned. ‘It’s late - or early, I can’t tell.’

‘You’re a nightmare.’ He shook his head with a laugh and stuck his hand out to you. ‘C’mon. You can make it up to me by teaching me to dance.’

‘I don’t dance, Dameron-’

You let out a squeak when he took your hands in his, wrenching you up and off the bench. Stumbling for a moment, your chests collided, an easy balance settling over you as steadied you with an arm to the waist. You were in his eyeline now, the perfect position to hold his gaze in yours and just...stare. It wasn’t something you did often, but right now, it was impossible not to. He was smiling ear to ear, honey eyes creased at the side as he dragged you away from your little safe spot and into a dirt clearing, mid-Jungle. 

He held you flush against his body, intertwining your fingers. What the fuck were you supposed to do? You didn’t dance. Hadn’t for years, and you were beginning to regret showing Poe those pictures of you in ballet class. It was comical that he thought you knew how to ballroom dance, or at least know enough to teach him enough for his first dance. You felt your throat dry up at that thought, quickly pushing it to the back of your throat. 

‘There’s no music, Poe.’ You tried to pull away, but his grip on your hands only grew tighter. 

‘When have we ever needed music?’ Poe softly smiled. He pulled you closer, trying to fight back a laugh as he comically swayed from side to side. 

Your eyes fell to the floor, and you forced a smile. ‘You gotta keep your back straighter.’ 

‘Got it. Posture is key.’ He adjusted his stance. ‘Anything else I oughta know?’

‘You should lead.’ You continued. ‘Because you’re taller.’

‘And how do I do that, chief?’

‘Just...go in whatever direction feels right. No harsh turns, just kinda make it flow, y’know?’

‘Like this?’

He moved his hand to the small of your back, pulling you in the other direction. You almost tripped as he did, burying your head in his shoulder to suppress a laugh. His body shook with a chuckle, mirroring yours. 

‘There’s this song my mum used to sing to me at bedtime.’ He softly said. ‘I don’t remember the words, but I know the tune.’

‘Are you implying that I’m about to get a live performance?’ You lifted your head up to look at him. 

‘You did say that we needed music.’

You stayed like that for a moment, bodies mere inches apart, swaying side to side. Poe murmured a soft tune; it was familiar, like a sweet and distant childhood memory, softly filling the air around you. You kept your arms circled around his waist, shirt balled up in your fists and head planted firmly in his shoulders. He didn’t know it, but it was a moment of pure desperation, wanting to cling onto him for dear fucking life. This might be the last time you were this close; the last time you could ever have him hold you in this way. You would have given anything, not just in the galaxy, but far beyond that, to stay like this a little longer. Just you and him, closer than you’d ever been, under the golden glow of the Ajan Kloss moonlight and the soft sprinkle of the rain.

‘Do you think I’ve got it?’ He asked quietly.

‘Yeah.’ You murmured. ‘You do.’

‘I appreciate you, sweetheart.’ He smiled. ‘Can’t be making a fool of myself at my own wedding, right?’

His wedding. Not your wedding. Just his, and a girl you’d barely made the effort to get to know.

That was your own fault - a mixture of jealousy and guilt, probably. Jealousy, because she was getting to marry the man you’d loved for as long as you could remember, and guilt, because you’d fallen into bed with that man several times since he’d put the ring on her finger. You could barely look her in the eye, knowing what you’d done - but it had never stopped you. Every time was supposed to be the last time, but then it became a past time. 

Sneaking about behind her back, promising it would never happen again, only to fall between the sheets mere weeks later. It was never about love, or cementing anything long term. It wasn’t because Poe wanted to be with you instead or because he was trying to sabotage his engagement. It was just...it was one of things that could never quite be explained. You loved one another more than life itself, in an all consuming, debilitating way, but it never worked out when you tried. You didn’t want to be together, but you didn’t want to be with anyone else. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. 

Then there were moments like this; just you and him, against the backdrop of a vast galaxy but unable to think about anything else or look at anyone else. The whole world could have been up in flames and neither of you would have noticed. It didn’t matter where you were, or what you were doing. As long as you had Poe, you had everything. 

But that was about to change. He was marrying someone else, and this whole thing would have to stop. Not just the sneaking about and the stolen kisses - in reality, that never have started in the first place - but everything. Because even if Poe completely dedicated himself to his wife-to-be, and demoted you to just a friend, you could never manage it. You were like two ends of a magnet, completely unable to stay away from one another. You’d already crossed too many lines.

‘Poe.’ You softly murmured. Your hands dropped back to your sides, letting go of your grip on his shirt. ‘This has to stop now.’

His smile softened. ‘Is my dancing that bad?’

‘Not your dancing, dumbass.’ Your pained tone didn’t quite match your words. ‘Us.’ 

‘Right. That.’ Poe sniffed. He let go of you, backing over to where you’d been sat on the log a few moments prior. 

A small sigh escaped your lips, and you trudged across the muddy ground, taking a seat beside him. The atmosphere had quickly changed from something sweet to something bitter. It made you wish you’d savoured that soft moment with Poe for a little longer, because now you’d brought up the subject, there was no going back. This was it now. You had to rip it off like a band-aid. 

‘I like us.’ Poe murmured quietly. 

‘There is no us, Poe.’ You reminded him. ‘We tried, remember? And it never worked.’

‘What’s the last few months been then?’

‘It’s been us living in a bubble. Pretending that if we ignore the outside world, that we can be together.’ You said. ‘But reality is gonna catch up with us, and we have to get on top of it before it does.’

‘Maker.’ Poe sniffed. ‘I always said I’d never be that guy.’

‘I shouldn’t have made you that guy.’ You reached across and took his hand in yours. Giving it a squeeze, you brushed your thumb over it and let go. 

‘Time to face the music, huh?’ Poe’s eyes followed you as you stood up. 

‘’fraid so, Dameron.’ 

You wanted to say it, to blurt it out: I love you.

In reality, what you had was just infatuation. It wasn’t love, not in the long term. It was passionate and intense, as though the world around you were on fire. It burnt bright and true, lighting up everything around you and keeping you warm inside. Ultimately, though, it was susceptible to burning out. And once it had, what would be left? Ashes. Burn scars, and strangled cries for what you’d lost. 

Like fire, the entire thing was suffocating. Depriving you of oxygen and swallowing you whole; making you feel like you had the weight of the world of the chest. It was okay, though, because when you were with Poe, breathing didn’t matter all that much. 

You had to step away; fan the fire out and let your lungs fill with air, so that you could scream. Scream for him, scream for the fact you would only ever be a lover, and an affair that would pass in time. 

When the flames were gone, when you’d let out a cry of war and grief, you could take a step back, and maybe, just maybe, breathe him in again. 

tags: @marvelinsanity​ @poestardust​ @princessxkenobi​ @nomanchesnoncreator​

[tbehartoo]

Bursting Bubbles

My piece for @thedjwifizine that can be found here. It's full of great art and stories. Check it out!

...

Nino looked up into the scowling face of his favorite seatmate.

“Here you go, Bubbles,” she said as she thrust a mango bubble tea into his hand. “One special of the day from The Boba Bar.” Her other hand slapped a small card onto his sheet music. “And here’s your other three week’s worth of drinks.”

“Aw, Alya you didn’t have to do this,” he held up the card. “This,” he grinned as he took his first sip of the drink, “you definitely needed to do.”

“Well you won the bet fair and square,” Alya huffed as she plopped down into her seat. “You really could find a way to get a harpsichord to sound rockin' when you DJ’ed Kim’s house party.”

“Scoops, I’m surprised you could doubt me,” Nino held a hand to his heart. “It’s like you’ve forgotten that music is my life.” He grumbled toward the music piece he’d been assigned, “It’s not like I’ve spent nearly three grueling years learning this European centered musical theory or anything.” Looking at her smirk he added, “Or that I’d hardly be the first person to experiment with combining old instruments to new music.” He thought for a moment before adding, “Or old music to new instruments.”

The next week it was Nino placing a gift card on Alya’s notepad.

“Your payment for getting me those sources for my music history essay, m’lady,” he said as he bowed to her.

“Nino, what-” she asked as she looked at the card “-what is this?”

Nino felt his face warm up, but he sent a shy smile in her direction as he sat down. “You were saying, the other day, that it’s been forever since you had a mani-pedi, but that they weren’t in your budget at the moment so I figured I’d get one for you as thanks for saving my bacon. I didn’t have time to track down those translations of medieval manuscripts for that Music Development in the Dark Ages assignment, but you did it without my asking.” He grinned at her, “You really took some pressure off of me and I appreciate it.”

She looked at him, back at the card, and back at Nino.

“I don’t remember saying that,” she murmured.

“You were picking at your nails because the color was coming off and said that you’d need to see if Marinette was free for a girl’s night so you could get her to do your nails again,” he said as he started to root around in his bag.

“That was two- three weeks ago?” she said, thinking out loud. She looked at him, but he was obviously avoiding her gaze. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

His head tucked between his shoulders, a turtle pulling into its shell.

“It was easy to remember,” he said. “You had that sparkly red polish. It really drew in the eye. I remember thinking that you had the perfect hands for playing the piano right before you said it.” He quickly looked away again.

Alya was quiet for a moment before smiling up at him.

“That seems like a really nice compliment coming from a musician like yourself,” she reassured him. She looked back at the card. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this place.”

“It’s, uh, one of the local beautician schools,” he told her. “You were right about mani-pedis being a bit pricy, but my cousin is going there to learn to cut hair, and she said the girls in the nail class are crazy talented and eager to get someone not a relative to paint on, and it only costs about a fourth of what the pros charge.” He shrugged. “This way you can have like half a dozen manicures for the price of one.”

Alya lunged at him and caught him in a tight hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” she cried before releasing him. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Miss Cesaire, if you are quite done groping Mister Lahiffe I’d like to start the class,” the voice of Doctor Agreste cut through the lecture hall and every head snapped toward them.

Alya’s face was nearly as warm and red as his own.

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked as she pulled her arms back to her side.

“Now if we may?” the professor’s curt voice took control of the class.

“Groping,” Nino mumbled. “He calls one little hug groping.” He pulled out a composition that Madame Mendeleiev had assigned just that morning. “I’d like to show him groping.”

He was startled out of his grumbling when Alya whispered, “Me, too.”

Only three more weeks and I’m out of this class and I never have to see this man’s stupid face again, Nino thought to himself. At least after today it’s just student presentations before the final.

They had finally reached the Contemporary Era and the man was butchering even the easiest movements! And don’t get him started on the composers. He’d wasted over half the lecture trying to explain that Richard Wagner wasn’t really an antisemite, but that Nazi sympathizers, mainly Adolf himself, just liked his music so much and thought it expressed National Ideals perfectly! The man wasn’t even a composer in Contemporary times!

And that just served to take time away from some real pioneers of the era like Laura Anne Karpman whose music can be found literally anywhere. Or what about Meredith Monk who includes operas amongst her compositions, since Doctor Agreste seemed to be hung up over Wagner’s damn Ring Cycle. Of course he didn’t mention Yihan Chen the brilliant Chinese pianist and composer. And though the man would fawn and dote on child prodigies like Wolfgang Mozart all day, he wouldn’t give the time of day to “Bluejay” Greenberg who could hear several compositions in his head at the same time and then be able to write them with minimal correction.

Just, UGH!

Nino was done with this entitled little man and the racist ideology he’s attempting to spread about. He was certainly spreading something, but it smelled more like fertilizer than anything else to Nino’s mind.

He could tell that Alya was concerned about his agitation, he’d been clenching his pencil so hard he heard it crack, but he refused to look in her direction. She had a great talent for sniffing out these kinds of things and if he looked at her right now, he’d probably see his frustration reflected on her face and do something dumb- like start an uprising in the middle of class. He really couldn't afford to take this class again.

As soon as they were out the doors Alya started ranting about how it was obvious that Doctor Agreste didn’t even bother to check Wikipedia for sources. She made her opinion known that the good doctor didn’t like the era because more people were included in writing and performing it rather than just white, Western-European men who were either wealthy or had wealthy patrons. And stopped mid rant.

Nino looked at her and watched as Alya got an idea. By the look on her face it was a genius idea: an Evil and Genius idea if the cackle was anything to go by.

“Whatever you’re planning, I’m in,” he declared.

“I haven’t even told you my idea yet.”

“I can tell by your expression alone that it’s going to be the best idea ever,” he said with a smirk. “So want to let me in on our plan?”

She explained her idea and Nino’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, that man is going to regret crossing paths with us,” he chuckled. “Can you come over tonight? I’ve got plenty of stuff we’d need for the music portion of the presentation.”

She shook her head. “I need at least one day to fact-check my notes and another to find accurate sources. Are you busy Saturday?”

Nino thought for a moment. “I’m free in the morning, but I have a wedding I’m playing for in the evening.”

“Okay that gives me a little more time for research.” She smiled up at him. “So, Saturday morning we’ll meet up to pull things together?”

Nino nodded in agreement.

“Great,” she said, “That’ll give us Sunday to type up the report and Monday to practice for our presentation on Tuesday.”

“Tell me the truth, Alya,” Nino looked at her, “Is this too much? Are we crazy to put together a spite presentation in one weekend? At the end of the semester?” He brushed a bit of her hair out of her face and tucked it carefully behind her ear. “You already have so much to do for all your other classes. I don’t want this to be something that stresses you out or makes you do something that hurts you.”

Alya reached up and patted his cheek before replying.

“Nino this is going to be so much fun that I doubt I’ll even notice how much work it is,” she grinned at him fully. “I might pull an allnighter here or there, but I promise you that I’m taking care to not do too much. I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t think we could do it.”

He held her gaze for a moment then sighed.

“Okay, let’s ruin this man’s whole career.”

She laughed loud and pulled him toward the school’s cafe. Obviously this called for copious amounts of snacks and his precious bubble tea.

Tuesday dawned bright and clear. A perfect day to teach about the subtleties of Contemporary music while simultaneously displaying the ignorance and prejudice of the most hated music teacher on campus. Nino sipped at his Thai tea with coffee pudding as he contemplated Alya’s plan of attack. It was a nice simple plan, but it needed something. Seeing a familiar outline hurrying across campus brought a smile to his face. The final nail in Doctor Agreste’s coffin just made itself known. He hurried across the quad to see if he could catch up with Madame before she reached her office.

An hour later he stood at the podium inserting the thumb drive into the computer for the projector.

“Good morning everyone,” Alya began. “As you all know we’ve had to jump over and through many musical ages and movements. That meant we had to skim through a lot of really interesting information. Nino and I decided to do a little bit of music through the ages for the Contemporary Era for you all. Now, get ready to get funky!”

That was his cue. He started the Powerpoint and Richard Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” began to blast from the room’s speakers while Elmer Fudd stabbed a spear into the ground singing, “Kill the wabbit! Kill the wabbit!”

“Welcome to Neoromanticism,” he called to those present.

The presentation went off without a hitch. Madame Mendeleiev had managed to slip in before their presentation and had stayed to the end of class. It was with great delight that Nino watched the Dean of the Music Department approach Doctor Agreste and congratulate him on the quality of his students’ final presentations. She even approached Alya and complemented her on the amount of research she’d done to be ready for the day. Then she turned to him.

“An adequate presentation, Nino,” she said with no trace of humor in her words. “Your compilation was a little heavy on the electronic music and light on the serialism, but I suppose that’s only to be expected with where your interests lie,” she paused, “and in light of the time constraints.”

He gulped and nodded his head. He knew she’d pick up on that.

“Please, send me a copy of your presentation at your earliest convenience.”

His eyes snapped up from the floor to meet hers. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the slight upturn to the corners of her mouth or not, so he chose not to comment on it.

“I think I might incorporate it into my opening lecture next semester,” she remarked so offhandedly that Nino was sure he was hearing things. “It’ll be an excellent introduction to modern music for the freshmen.” She nodded to him before moving off to catch professor Agreste on his way out the door.

Alya was grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating where she stood. He turned to her and had a fraction of a second to brace for impact as she’d thrown herself in his direction. Her arms were around his waist as she pulled him into a hug. He returned the hug with matching enthusiasm.

“We did so good!” she squealed.

He looked down into her grinning face and returned the smile.

“Hell yeah, we did,” he replied. “This calls for a celebration.” It was only then that he realized he still had his arms around her shoulders. Then again she was still holding on to him. He pulled back but kept hold of her hands. “I know you have another class in an hour, but do you want to go get boba to celebrate?”

She smirked up at him. “Only if you’ll let me treat you to dinner at Sabine’s tonight.” She looked to the side as she added, “And then we could go check out that concert in the park you mentioned yesterday.”

His mouth suddenly went dry. That sounded a lot like an actual date. Like a real date with this girl he knew he’d started crushing on some time this semester. What else could he do?

“Sounds great, but you have to let me bring pizza and dessert to our study date on Thursday night.”

Her laugh sent a tingle down his spine. “It’s a date!”

[prose-for-hire]

The Magic of Tupperware

Pairing: Spike x fem!demon!reader

Request: I'd love to see the Scooby gang's reaction to Spike's gf. He hypes her up to be this strong badass who could kill anyone but when she finally meets the gang everyone's confused cuz she's polite & sweet & cute. On patrol with everyone, Spike is super protective of her which leads to him being kidnapped & then GF shows the gang how badass she is as she hunts down and destroys the ghouls who took Spike (maybe some fluffy care for wounded Spike that clashes with her badassery?)

Requested by: Anon

Warnings: Reader is kinda violent. Violence/fighting. Blood mention.

A/N: It’s the longest I’ve written on here, I always get carried away on a back story.

I took liberties with the demon the reader is (Fae is a catch-all I think I just needed something that wasn’t human and wasn’t vampire lol). Use your imagination if you want to be something else !!

You and spike had met in a demon bar. You appeared human, pointed ears was a myth at least in your lineage, and so he wasn’t really sure what you were doing there. You were descendent from fae. You didn’t have wings or anything to that effect, but a spell had been cast on your eighteenth birthday that meant you had strength, reliant on earthly forces for your power. You hadn’t aged much since then, your skin aged much slower than human. You would live a long life, appearing youthful for centuries at least.

He asked you why you were there – you even smelled human. You explained, hit it off, and you have been together for a while now. You had surprised him and confessed your love for him first, leaving him in awe that you were as invested in the relationship as him. Spike hadn’t introduced you to the Scoobies despite being together for a year, although he told you a lot about them. It didn’t stop him bragging about you at any given opportunity to them either.

Spike now lived with you in your little one-bedroom flat, the crypt had been nice and all but you were becoming inseparable and you wanted to share a cosy place together. You had shipped some necro-tempered glass from the manufacturer in LA and had it installed on the sly so that he could be comfortable. This glass meaning he could be in direct sunlight through the windows.

You were kind. Sweet-tempered for the most part. Your strength was often used for good, but perhaps in a more abstract sense than the Scoobies may agree with. You would do anything for him because you loved him so much and you knew without doubt he felt the same for you. However, especially when it came to him, you had a protective streak and it could get ugly.

One of the many times Spike had gushed about you, had left the Scoobies unsure. One, about the actual legitimacy of this ‘significant other’ they have never even seen after a whole year and two that he actually appeared to gush about you. Like, non-stop. Nobody could shut him up.

Spike had been, once again, punched in the face for his suggestion to a problem that launched him into a rant that turned into talking about you, “She’s gonna sort the lot of you right out. One look and you’ll be trapped in her eyes. She’ll kill you. She’ll bloody torture you and laugh while you writhe on the floor like-” Spike cut himself off, you had told him not to brag about you this way. You liked a little mystery and also, you didn’t enjoy bragging the way he did. You knew the slayer wouldn’t like you if he told them of the ways you had killed various demons that threatened either you or Spike.

There was a new threat in town. A vampire cult. Their goal was to turn people and then ‘elevate’ them as a higher being by torturing them until they sign away their un-life to the cause. They were very powerful and bonded by the violence that would break even the strongest will. It was a massive problem, Buffy and the others had been overwhelmed the last time they had faced the group and had barely got away unscathed. This was why they were going back with reinforcements. Buffy had explained that they really should meet you and also, they needed the numbers. It was hard to tell how big the threat from the group truly was from a vague prophetic dream and a half-translated text.

That evening, you and Spike entered Giles’ home and Spike made a show of introducing you to the others.

“This is y/n” spike said, pride in his voice evident, his eyes never leaving yours as he introduced you to the scoobies. He was besotted with you. Nobody else mattered in the room when you were in it. You were perfect, the sweetest person he had ever met rolled up into the tough exterior of someone who could handle themselves at a rate that could match him.

“What a lovely home you have!” You say sweetly, the sincerity acutely evident to the room, “It’s so nice to finally put faces to the names” you went around and greeted everyone individually as if they were Spike’s friends, a pleasant little smile that read as almost shy to the others.

Buffy squinted at you, on guard, but she was still pleasant. Willow and Tara offered you a smile, telling you they liked your outfit. Xander and Anya were both speechless, which should be a day memorialised for years to come. Neither of them were speechless often. You weren’t what they had expected. They had thought you would at least have scales or something. But you were innocent-looking and incredibly polite as you greeted them. Dawn squealed, instantly thinking you were the coolest. Spike had told her so many stories and she had tried twice to follow him to where you lived without luck.

“Oh, uh, well yes. Welcome” Giles sputtered; you were exactly nothing like he had pictured. Xander, Buffy and Willow just stared in shock. You spoke for a while, friendly small-talk with the group that was genuine. You really did want to hear about them, meeting new people was always interesting to you. You were a perfect sweetheart, by all accounts, and nobody could understand how you and Spike had even happened. You opened your mouth to tell them something before someone spoke over you.

“You are not like how Spike described. I don’t believe you could have fought five vampires and a fyarl demon by yourself” the woman, Anya, said bluntly finally finding her voice.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I think” You offer with a pleasant smile, trying to figure out how to phrase what you wanted to say, “He’s said a lot about you all, he, uh- he uh- barely stops talking about you” You finish awkwardly, still smiling at the group. Spike hadn’t told you anything particularly good about any of them, so you couldn’t say you had heard good things. You didn’t tend to lie.

“Love!” He warned, trying to get you to be quiet but you giggled softly and he melted. He pulled you into his side, wrapping his arm around you and making sure he was in contact with you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to tell them you’re usually threatening to kill them” you whispered in his ear, punctuating your words with a soft kiss next to his ear, making him smile. He loved that you cared so much that you’d protect him from them threatening him if they found out about that.

“Um, so, patrol then?” Xander asked, not able to stop staring at you much to Anya’s annoyance, leaving Buffy to take control. You would all descend on the graveyard in question together before splitting off into smaller groups to find the threat.

As you all walked towards one of Sunnydale’s many graveyards, you felt a few questioning glances on you and then on the tub you were holding. It was as if they were expecting you to turn on them at any moment. You slowly started to open the lid, their eyes widening in case they needed to fight.

“Oh! I brought snacks! Can’t patrol without cookies” You smiled, offering the younger group some homemade cookies, you had wanted to make a good impression. Spike rolled his eyes at your nature but took one for himself. They were his favourite kind and you had baked them with this in mind. Everyone delved into the tub you brought along with you, grinning wide, except Giles and Buffy. They were a little more wary of you.

Everyone was told to split up. Spike looked at you, silently threatening Buffy to try and split you both up. You and he took the west and the others squabbled among themselves for who would be with who. You left them to it. You walked for a little while, giggling and talking softly as you both were simultaneously hyper-aware of movement around you. Spike heard something and went behind an old mausoleum to check as you walked a little ahead slowly, so that he could catch up.

You were tough. A fighter. One with the elements. One thing that you never quite mastered, however, was the element of surprise. Instead, they had surprised you. Meaning you were caught without so much as a defensive stance at the ready.

“Get off!” You shouted as you were ambushed by several more. It had surprised you, usually you could handle it.

“Mm, this one’s for turning” one spoke as they kept your hands behind your back. One stroked your cheek, liking the fight you displayed. Spike ran up to them, having heard the struggle.

“You don’t lay a bloody finger on her, mate!” Spike shouted, anger lacing his voice, his temper would never cool with the vamps threatening you. Leering. Talking of siring you. Offering something so intimate. It was worse than propositioning sex.

He didn’t wait for the others, who were making their way towards the fight, he just took them on. They dropped you, but everything went slow motion. As you turned around, ready to fight alongside your love, they disappeared as if out of thin air with Spike.

You screamed bloody murder. Looking around, realising they had used some kind of transportation magic. You could feel it. Stupid cults and their powers. They were stronger because there was so many of them. You kicked the dirt where they had been only moments before in anger before turning to the rest of the group who had managed to get themselves over to where you were about two minutes too late. You couldn’t help snapping. Insulting Buffy, the supposed Slayer, for her horrible plan.

“Splitting up never works! You left him to be taken!” You stated, exasperated you had gone along with it just to be polite, “I’ll have to do it myself – here, hold my Tupperware” You start to get mad towards the real target, throwing the object towards Xander who catches it, eyes wide at your change in demeanour. How dare they take your Spike?!

You close your eyes, contacting the elements. Your fae ancestors working with you. You needed to find him and fast. You didn’t like the sound of being signed over to them yourself, much less your soulmate. You started to stalk off, trusting you were being pulled in the right direction. Knowing your ancestors approved of Spike, knew that you needed to be with him. You could tell the group was following you as you turned your pace into a run. You needed to get to him. Fast.

When you arrived at an abandoned warehouse, after a while of almost non-stop running to the outskirts of the town, you sensed there were seven. Seven horrible, evil beings holding your Spike hostage. This wouldn’t do. Couldn’t do. You needed him. You knew he would be fighting well himself, against whatever hold they had on him, but you needed to get in there. Giles tried to get you all to hang back, regroup. But you ignored him. There was a time and a place for pleasantries. You were probably older than him anyway in reality.

Instead, you charged in. A head start on everyone and you were faster than most. They had been torturing him for not breaking and joining them. They had started to threaten him with you, saying they would do worse to you. You saw Spike tied up, horrible angry wounds marked his body. His chest was bare, face bloody and not from a meal. It was his blood. This enraged you. Blood boiling thick and gelatinous in your veins. They had to pay. At a speed faster than the evil group could get their bearings, you were running at them fists raised.

You took the first three out with ease, working on pure rage. The next was more of a struggle as they rounded on you. Spike struggled against his restraints so he could join you in the fight, but he was weakened from the pain they had inflicted. You were tackled by one, restrained your arms above your head. You spat in the vamps face, kneeing him in the groin which loosened his hold on you enough to move from under him and dust him.

By the time you had recovered and were spinning into a brutal kick towards the fifth, the Scoobies had all made it into the warehouse behind you. Ready to fight. But you didn’t give them chance. You were working on pure rage. You took two long knives from your waistband, concealed in a way that not even Buffy had spotted as you cut the rest down mercilessly. Decapitating the final two and leaving them to turn to dust.

The scoobies stared in shock. Each mouth open wide in a mix of awe and horror. Half expecting you to turn on them. But you had no need to hurt them, for the most part they tolerated Spike. The day they didn’t and they started hurting him, was the day they should be scared (Spike had never told you the way Buffy had a tendency to beat him up for this very reason. You were strong, but taking on a Slayer would worry him too much – she tended to bounce back even after death).

You dusted your hands off, a satisfied little smile that Spike found adorable before your face drained, you needed to check on Spike. Tend to him. You rushed towards him, he had managed to escape the restraints while you distracted the group by, well, killing them. He had slid down the wall, sitting against it for support – the wounds still seeping blood and he appeared to be a little dazed. You were worried, his face had started to swell.

“Oh, sweetheart… look at you” tears started to well in your eyes at the state he was in. You wanted him well again. You leaned in, a small kiss pressed to his cut lips. The brief kiss telling him how proud you were to him for protecting you, how grateful you were to him and how much you loved him. Would always love him. You were a team and he was so glad you were there with him. Had come straight to get him. He wasn’t sure how long he would have lasted otherwise. He was just glad they had taken him instead of you. He would give himself time and again just so it had been him half-tortured rather than you.

Everyone appeared to have whiplash from your emotions running through so quickly. You had switched from sweet and caring to tough and scary before being back at caring again.

“Tupperware!” You shouted over to the boy who awkwardly fumbled with the tub and threw it back to you. You close your eyes, imagining what you needed to be in there before opening it and magically, it appeared just as you dreamt it. A first aid kit and a little herbal remedy for him to drink. It was items you had transported from your house into the tub. Your strengths were many.

You doted on him. Your touch so light, soothing. You never wanted to cause him pain. You cleaned him up, held him as much as you could without hurting him. The scoobies were at a loss. You were like two opposites, soft and gooey but with hard edges.

You took him back to your shared home, doting on him until he was well enough again. You snuggled up to him, caring for him and occasionally keeping the Scoobies happy (and away from Spike) by helping them instead of him out patrolling, putting his un-life at risk.

You didn’t want him in any danger, knowing that he would always protect you in the way you protected him.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

I just read both interviews, Part 1 and 2 of Jann Wenner's Rolling Stone Interview of 1971. It sounds as though John and the other Beatles DID have a realistic gripe about Paul taking over, directly projects, handing out musical assignments, etc., etc. and I'm sure he had the ego by this point to match! I would probably have become irritated by Paul as well. And no hints or even reading between the lines of John being emotionally hurt by Paul with regard to loss of intimate relationship.

Hello and thanks for writing in, Listener!First, I’d like to point out that we haven’t reached the Lennon Remembers portion of our Break-up Series, and will dig into it much more thoroughly in a future episode (stay tuned!).  

Presumably this ask isn’t in response to anything we’ve actually discussed on the podcast, in which case I feel that I should explain that what we do on our show is reevaluate conventional wisdom and contextualize public statements within the realities of actual behaviors. In other words, not taking things like Lennon Remembers at face value is AKOM 101.

If what we were doing on this podcast was as easy as simply reading the most infamous interview John Lennon ever gave (the one upon which the conventional story of the Beatles break-up is founded), it wouldn’t be much of a podcast or a very groundbreaking analysis, would it?

Second, I’d like to mention that listeners/readers can hear the entire (3.5 hours!) interview on You Tube.  Very evocative with audio!  Wenner’s editing in the print versions often make John sound more coherent and less vitriolic towards everyone but Paul than the audio reveals (i.e. the shitty comments about Paul are always printed but the ones about George, Brian, etc often aren’t).

Next, we’d like to state the usual disclaimer (which everyone is probably already aware of but is a good reminder anyway!):  John later disavowed this interview.  In fact, he was so angry at Jann Wenner for publishing it as a book, it apparently created a permanent rift between the two.  You may choose to view/value this interview as John being super honest, but please consider that in this allegedly “truthful” book/interview, John:

claims George is musically/creatively inferior to John

declares the McCartney album “rubbish”

reveals his belief that he and Paul’s confidence levels are intrinsically, inversely related to one another

says George was so aggressively rude to Yoko that John wished he would’ve punched him over it

proudly admits that he “maneuvered” the other Beatles to get Klein in as manager

bemoans the fact that everyone says Brian Epstein was so great “just because he’s dead” and that Brian cheated and robbed the Beatles

makes derisive comments about “fags” at least five times in the printed version alone and calls Lee Eastman “a wasp Jew, man, that’s the worst kind of person on earth.”

admits to lying in interviews and deflects accountability on the basis of being “just a guy” who mouths off about stuff

As for Paul, John is admittedly all over the place, swinging fairly wildly from nostalgic (reminiscing about having “a good mind like Paul’s” on his side and co-writing with their “fingers in each others’ pies”) to bitter (”Paul thought he was the Beatles,” etc).

As for the accusations that Paul was tyrannical, we’ve addressed these before (particularly in Break-Up Episode 2).  Just as Geoff Emerick, Michael Lindsay Hogg and Doug Sulpy (and even John, when he was feeling more generous) have articulated, we too feel that Paul stepped up and led the band in a time of need and deserves unequivocal credit for that.  We believe much of the subsequent complaining from the other Beatles is akin to the kind of griping one directs at a colleague who gets promoted (“who died and made you king!?”) and while some of it was likely based in genuine irritation at Paul’s communication style, much of it was probably petty.  This is why we are looking at the situation from all angles, to get a better sense of what is reality v. spin.  In any case, we don’t dispute that there were power struggles within the band.Any reader is free to choose John’s side in any/all of these battles.  But our overall takeaway from this particular interview is that John was unloading a lot of pent-up rage; against teachers, fans, Aunt Mimi, his mum, critics, Paul and anyone else who didn’t properly recognize his genius and praise him for it.

“That’s what makes me what I am. It comes out, the people I meet have to say it themselves, because we get fuckin’ kicked. Nobody says it, so you scream it: look at me, a genius, for fuck’s sake! What do I have to do to prove to you son-of-a-bitches what I can do, and who I am? Don’t dare, don’t you dare fuckin’ dare criticize my work like that. You, who don’t know anything about it.”

Based solely on Lennon Remembers, one could reasonably believe John didn’t like anyone but Yoko and Allen Klein (of whom he also speaks with reverence).  Fortunately, John gave a million other interviews in his lifetime, so even though this one is given a disproportionate amount of weight (probably b/c it is the most inflammatory and “raw”) we can compare John’s comments, behavior and art over a broad spectrum of time.  We feel this gives us a better, more thorough and more authentic portrait of John’s POV.  This is a good idea with ANY public figure, but especially important in John’s case, since, by his own admission he has a tendency to say what he feels in the moment and doesn’t necessarily stand by his own statements afterwards.

John in 1976:  “I get a bit absolute in my statements. [laughs] Which sometimes get me into deep water, and sometimes into the shallow.”

To your other point, our overall impressions about John’s feelings regarding  “loss of an intimate relationship” with Paul certainly do not hinge on Lennon Remembers, nor have we ever suggested they do.  In fact, LR is commonly used as the primary proof-point by McCartney detractors and Lennon/McCartney deniers (those who willfully and sometimes passionately  ignore and/or deny the deep love between John and Paul, as described by John and Paul themselves and everyone in their lives) that Paul was a tyrant who destroyed the Beatles with his massive ego.  

We have never disputed the existence of Paul’s ego.  But consider this: John refers to himself as an egomaniac REPEATEDLY throughout this interview.  Why is there a loud faction of people who consider John being an avowed egomaniac perfectly reasonable (sexy even!), but find it unforgivable that Paul is the same way?  Consider these excerpts from Lennon Remembers:

Do you think you will record together again?

I record with Yoko, but I’m not going to record with another egomaniac. There is only room for one on an album nowadays.

How would you assess George’s talents?

[…] Maybe it was hard for him sometimes, because Paul and I are such egomaniacs, but that’s the game.

Who do you think is good today? In any arts…

The unfortunate thing about egomaniacs is that they don’t take much attention of other people’s work. I only assess people on whether they are a danger to me or my work or not.

[Tangential]

But the Beatles were artists, and all artists have fucking’ big egos, whether they like to admit it or not […]

Yes, John rants repeatedly about Paul’s ego during this interview- while he simultaneously declares his own genius and artistic superiority over others. We find it mind-boggling how this irony continues to evade some people, but there it is.  

George Harrison has repeatedly complained about BOTH John & Paul’s egos (and their shared ego IRT “Lennon/McCartney”), but again, this is often ignored in favor of singling out Paul as the villain.  

Furthermore, it’s helpful to bear in mind when consuming Lennon Remembers that John and Yoko had received training in media-messaging by this point and were very savvy at Public Relations.  We know from people close to them that they drafted their stories in advance before offering them to the public. This fact, combined with Lennon’s tendency to “mouth off” means we have the right and responsibility to question and examine John’s claims rather than simply  parrot them mindlessly.

If you are genuinely interested in our take, we recommend our Break-Up Series. We think you will find it well-researched and thoughtful, even if you disagree with some of our conclusions.

Or if you simply dislike McCartney and find him “irritating,” that’s fine too.  Not everyone has to like everyone!

For additional discussion/analysis of Lennon Remembers, I recommend any of several threads on Erin Torkelson Weber’s site, the Historian and the Beatles.

the flawed lens of Lennon v. McCartney

Jann Wenner’s bio

how Rolling Stone shaped the breakup

discussing a podcast appearance

Thank you so much for this ask!  It is always a pleasure to share information.  Have a wonderful day.-The AKOM crew

[veridium]

Big, Uncoordinated Rant About Life, pardon me --

So far in 2020 I have had myself spread so thin that I make a crepe look a mile wide. For the last several years of my life I’ve staved off the tension of picking my chosen family/career path or picking my family in terms of direction, energy, and purpose. My past relationship convinced me to sacrifice so much precious irreplaceable time with my family. Yet, considering my family can often be emotionally toxic for me, I haven’t always seen this as a curse. 

But this year for some reason it’s like all the tensions have come to a boiling point. 

In January/February when I caught HIGH heat for choosing my “community” and school over my loyalty to my family, I fought back but I also extended myself in order to mend that brokenness. With so much going on in my family I felt it necessary. Every time I felt like I could ease up, one more thing happened that compelled me to stretch myself. 

Then, I started participating in protesting last month and this month and the transition between focusing on my family and focusing on my community happened so abruptly I ended up hurting the feelings of several of my closest friends from back on the west coast. Now, two won’t speak to me and one barely is in order to convey that I fucked up and to make amends. My mistake was one of thoughtlessness and doing something I should have done far later than I should have. Now, I may have broken friendships I held dear like family, and why? 

Because I couldn’t stop and think for 2 seconds that maybe I should check on the people I say I love like family.

These aren’t things I take lightly nor express as a means of garnering pity. 

I just need to go somewhere with all this frustration because at this point I feel so close to my breaking point. When my family says I focus too much on my friends and work, I focus on them. When I focus on family, I shut out my friends and chosen family and end up hurting them, too. In the midst of all this I’ve had to do grad school work, teach my students, navigate a global pandemic, experience a health scare with my cat, lose my Grandfather and two other distant relatives unexpectedly, look on as my Mom experienced a form of a stroke, and more recently be put on medication and referred to a Psychiatrist for a possible mental illness I did not foresee but probably should have. 

I am saddened when people -- especially those I consider close, who I trust enough to know me -- take my stoicism for granted. Even when it isn’t intended, even when it is a valid part of the problem. But I also have to be accountable for the fact that I claim stoicism when I should be open and communicative with those I love. I don’t know how I can be simultaneously sensitive and guarded. I don’t know how I’ve managed to become a confidant and mother figure, all the while I’m like this. Oh, but then again, I can: because every mother figure I’ve ever known in my life is a master at having a stiff upper lip while using all of their compassion, patience, and kindness for other’s benefit. 

Once again, I’m not saying that’s me. I guess I’m saying that’s what I’m trying to emulate, and now I’ve fucked up.

And that is the thing: I want to be the person everyone knows. I want to be endlessly strong, providing, and caring. But now I’m looking around and all I see are demands, and I know that’s a very self-centered view of everything, but I’m so overwhelmed. I’m overwhelmed by how I’ve hurt my friends. I’m overwhelmed by how much I owe to my family while also being wary of how much they hurt me. I’m overwhelmed by all these “me”’s I have to be. No one in my life really understands all that is expected of me. That is not their fault, either. I just haven’t spoken about it all -- the whole pie, not just slices -- to anyone except my therapists. Hell, my Mom was nearly shocked when I told her about my medication and possible prognosis, and it dawned on me just how much I keep from her and the family when it comes to my mental healthcare. 

I know I’ve hurt people. I know I’ve let my friends down. But if anything, I wish they could just see that I didn’t do so while flying high, loving life, carefree. I fucked up because all of these strands attached to me are pulling and I am failing to grow and stretch at the rate they need. Now I’m scared I’ve lost friendships built on years worth of love, activism, trust, and community because I let them fall through the cracks just enough to not be able to reach them and pull them back. Now I’m scared I’ll inevitably have to let some sector of my life permanently fall by the wayside in pursuit of the others. 

I just want to know how I fucked this all up and how I can get it right, how I can fix it. If there is a manual, I want to know where so I can find it and read it. I want to know where the secrets are kept on how to “have it all,” or rather, hold it all -- hold everyone dear to me. It pains me to be told I’m failing and hurtful when all I want to do is love people well. I want to love what I do as a means of honoring their existence. I want to love myself as a way of filling myself up in order to nourish them. And maybe that’s a martyrdom complex put in pretty, profound words. Maybe I have a martyr complex. Maybe I have a prodigy complex. Maybe I’ve been so perniciously objectified in various environments for the majority of my life that it’s the only way I know how to love.

Fuck, I’m so fucking tired. I’m so tired of the world being so ugly and so cruel to those within it who need kindness the most. I’m so tired of letting all this heaviness hold territory on my head and shoulders and for what reason? So I can sob about the weight of the planet and all its sorrows and wax poetic about my feelings? For fuck’s sake. I didn’t choose this path to be flowery. I didn’t choose this path to be flippant. I want to be strong, convicted, protective. I want to make a difference. I want to embody the politics and the philosophy that has become my lifeblood. The politics that saved my soul and gave me one of my most important purposes. 

But now I’m just like -- am I just really a figure with no substance, just symbolism, in my loved one’s lives? What if the way I’m loving isn’t fruit, but just objectifying in light of being objectified?

My level of self-criticism and self-loathing is secretly so high and no one knows it but me. Not even my therapists. I don’t even think I fully understand the degree.

I hate that I’m taping myself together each and every day and yet people believe I’m “flourishing.” If I am thoughtlessly insensitive to those I care for most, I can promise you, I’m likely not “flourishing.” And to hear that come from someone so close to me feels like a thin and sharp knife plunged right into the center of my chest. 

I learned nothing from watching my Mother struggle to be everyone’s strong person, nothing but a desire to do it, too. Do it to make up for how it hurt her. Do it to honor her sacrifices. 

Fuck all. 

[xkuja]

under the cut is a general, gentle, jumbled up rant that I promised I’d make last night.The topic is dupes and treating each one as an individual... And me being annoyed on behalf of people I like. It’s not especially negative and not a call out. I just wanted to speak up, said I would, and so I am.

     Read it if you like, id love to hear what you think. OR ignore it if you like! I don’t blame you~

       I may be in the minority here. I don’t know. I tend to keep like-minded company... But when you roleplay with two or more of the same character, isn’t it kind of rude to write exactly the same dynamic and plots with all of them?

       This isn’t directed at anyone who writes with me... Or at any one person in particular, for that matter. But I’ve seen it happen to my friends on several occasions lately, and honestly I seem to be more annoyed about it than they are, haha. So it’s a general rant about people who do this.

       I’ll try and explain what I mean.

       So, naturally certain characters possess certain ‘default reactions’ toward other characters-- For instance, my Kuja is simultaneously hot and cold toward Zidane. He’s comically exasperated by him, but wont pass up the opportunity to belittle or hurt him. Zidane is important to him so his initial opinion of him carries over...

      ...But nevertheless, my interactions with Zidane blogs are really distinct from one another. I don’t write the same plots with xZidane that I do with Zinidyne-Zidane. My Kuja’s opinions and reactions toward these portrayals are completely different (even discounting the ship thing with zini). 

      The same goes with Breselin’s Sephiroth portrayal and Aonemanarmy’s. Even though our interactions have been few, it didn’t take long to establish a completely different dynamic each. Kuja is by default very cautious and disturbed by Sephiroth, but in the few interactions we’ve had, he’s grown relatively ‘comfortable’ conversing with one, while he’s grown internally vicious toward the other and wants to get rid of him. From existence. ( Sorry Breslin’s Sephiroth, you are lovely but Kuja is convinced you’re a big threatening lich = v= )

       To write the exact same plot with two or more people at the same time just... Looks like collecting. Which comes across as not really caring for the distinct differences in each muse. And not really bothering to take the time to write the same plot. It’s kind of gross.  Everyone has their own take on a character, even if some details are similar. So it’s really important to treat each interaction you have differently. That’s what I think.

I guess what I’m saying is that if someone writes basically the same interactions with me that they do with a dupe they’ll be uninvited from my tea party... And side-eyed if they do that to one of my friends.

[dingledorcas]

❤ five times my muse says they don’t love yours, and the one time they admit it.

“admit it.”

groomed locks reminiscent of raven’s feather and curious, bright eyes that lurked behind equally dark lashes appeared suddenly from behind the obsidian black of the baby grand piano. “admit what?” dorcas replied. she did her best not to lose the rhythm of the melody lest her grandmother come to berate her playing. each calculated press of the ivory resonating through the parlor room.

“admit that you love me.” sirius said, the pearly white toothy grin that spread across his face plainly visible now. that was the smile of a mischievous little trickster. dorcas laughed. she missed a key and winced. her head turned quickly in the direction of the sitting room.

“and risk your mother running in here howling at me for even existing as a halfblood too closely to her little perfect prince? I think not. you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

---   ---   ---

“I’m very handsome.”

“you’re very annoying.”

a christmas party hosted by one of the elite. they weren’t allowed at the same table. luckily, the organizers had not thought chairs back to back too much an affront. neither family seemed to notice them talking the whole night either way. they were all too wrapped up in their own agendas.

“what if I were to tell you that I have a surprise for you?” without even seeing his face, dorcas could hear the smug expression that he wore. she couldn’t help but smile in return.

thank god he couldn’t see her. “I’d call you liar.” the sentence was barely out her mouth by the time the cold metal of an ancient skeleton key was being pressing into her hand. if she had to venture a guess, this particular key could open just about any lock in this dusty manor of polished marble.

“third floor, there’s a door that leads right out to a balcony where there are some very strong ivy vines that grow all the way up to the shingles and no one is allowed out there.”

admittedly, he’d done a decent job at reconnaissance. “I’ll meet you up there in five.” she pushed out of her seat.

“hey wait. don’t you have something to say to me?” for the first time the whole night, he took the risk of looking back at her. “I-” he started for her.

“you took long enough. I was bored out of my mind.”

---   ---   ---

the landscape passed in a blur of viridescence as the scarlet express train bounded away from king’s cross station and toward the hidden halls of hogwarts castle. the excited noise of first years bounced from compartment to compartment. dorcas leaned against the doorframe.

“I can’t believe you’ve already managed to get in a fight, black.”

“what can I say? it’s a talent.” the veneer of arrogance only just hiding what might have been nerves in his tone. she smiled. sirius had never been one to rest firmly on his family name to get by. she was glad that wasn’t changing now.

a chubby looking kid with a somewhat rodent-like expression perked up from the corner of the small compartment. “what? you want to be in slytherin too?” the voice was derisive. so that must have been what he’d gotten in such a scuffle about.

“no.”

they both answered simultaneously, eyes cutting sideways to meet each other. the same, familiar glint of rebellion shining in each. kindred spirits, at least that’s what her grandmother had always ranted at her. needless to say, alanis selwyn had never been a fan of the combustive combination.

“meadowes here is much too interesting to be kept in a dungeon with a bunch of snakes. I would pay to watch it though.” sirius said with conviction that could only be mustered by someone in the black family. “besides, she would look horrible in green.”

“that’s rich coming from you.”

the sorting ceremony had several surprises. it always did. that hat had a flare for the dramatics. perhaps that should be expected from a piece of clothing that only got a couple hours of attention every year. the largest of which was heir to the most ancient and noble house in pureblooded history earning a gilded lion pinned to his robes.

the hearth of the gryffindor common rooms was smoldering coals by the time all the excited first years had finally crawled into their four poster beds. sirius was seated on the plush crimson, velvet sofa with dorcas sprawled across his lap. they were both laughing still in as hushed tones as they could manage.

the shift was palpable. the weight they’d always shared was now being lifted if only for a night, by the solidarity of a new den. “you know I didn’t mean it, right?“ sirius asked, absent-mindedly attempting to braid the mess of hair that took up residence atop dorcas’s head .

“I have no idea what we’re talking about, but I am positive you meant it.” she brushed his hands away from her hair. it didn’t take.

“the green thing.” he explained. “you look fine in green.”

“the highest praise-”

“hush. as I was saying, you look fine in green, but you look spectacular in red, I think.” sirius said and tossed one of the blankets of the same color that was draped over the arm of the couch onto her face. dorcas pulled it off and sat up in one fluid motion.

she smiled in spite of herself. “you don’t look so bad in it yourself.”

“does that mean-”

“we should go to bed? probably. I expect howlers will be coming in the morning. we should rest up, puppy.”

---   ---   ---

two brooms collided well above the quidditch pitch.

“watch it!”

a pickup game between gryffindors and a handful of hufflepuffs started after lunch and had been going for just about two hours now. dorcas was already sporting a bandage over her nose from a previous collision. no one should ever let her play seeker. she was a born chaser.

“you watch it! you’re flying all over the place.” sirius called up to her, brandishing his own beater’s bat. a bludger came straight at them and he knocked it away. “you’re welcome!”

“oh yes, thank you for doing your one job.” the blur of gold was now completely lost to her. “I’m the seeker, flying all over place is sort of the only way to catch a snitch.”

the whir of another bludger was ripping through the air. “just catch it already!” sirius turned to bat it away as well. dorcas’s gaze spread across the pitch, catching the glint of the most elusive winged ball a few feet away.

as she turned her broom, however, a flier hit her. hard. the broom broke in half beneath her, the magic escaping from the old wood dissipated in the air. dorcas only managed to grab one piece in her hand. it didn’t do much to slow her fall. at the last moment, she threw out her arms and managed to arrest her momentum just enough that only one wrist made a sick snapping noise.

it felt like she’d only lost consciousness for a brief second, but when dorcas finally came to, most of the people they’d been playing with or watching had landed around her and were looking on in a grim fascination. does it hurt? does anyone know a healing spell? should we call a professor?

“move.”

sirius elbowed his way through the majority of their peers. the jovial smile and mischievous twinkle all but gone from his face. he knelt down beside her.

“I’ll take her to the hospital wing. quit staring.”

dorcas let sirius help her up, still a bit in a daze. maybe she had a concussion too. sirius’s support and direction was actually a comfort to her. if nothing else, she knew that he’d make sure not to leave until pomfrey had given her the all clear. he was reliable like that. “thanks puppy.”

---   ---   ---

“which one is that?” the steam slipped out of dorcas’s lips and curled intricately against the canvas of the night sky. she pointed up at a star that looked like it was a part of a constellation.

sirius shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“aren’t you supposed to know all of these?” she asked, looking over at him. the night was cold as they laid out on the roof. another party entirely going on downstairs, but they’d gotten much better at slipping away from those over the years. at this point, no one even bothered looking for the missing pair. most didn’t think them very redeemable.

sirius rolled his eyes. “it’s a hobby. I’m not a textbook.”

“what about that one?”

“that one is sirius!” the indignation in his tone impossible to ignore.

dorcas nodded solemnly, as if contemplating their very existence. “it did look familiar. alright. now which is the dorcas star?”

“there’s no dorcas star.”

“there’s no dorcas star?!” at that moment a streak of light cut through the veil.

sirius pointed. “that’s the dorcas star.”

her eyes trailed it as it fell. “well, that does seem appropriate.” she giggled. despite the frigid air, dorcas was warm with comfort. this tradition of theirs was the perfect place to hide away from the horror of the outside world. it had been a thirty minute session this morning. her grandmother had her claws out. ‘disappointment’ was not a new phrase used, but ‘culmination of a family’s mistakes’ had hit in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

the black family heir had caught her teary-eyed and hiding in the greenhouse. he hadn’t stopped answering questions about stars since. “hey sirius.”

“hm?”

“thanks.”

---   ---   ---

flasks were always dangerous in the hands of one dorcas meadowes. especially when she didn’t have any classes to focus on the next morning and no homework to tackle that night. “where are we going?” her voice mumbled into the back of a leather jacket.

“back to the dorms, meadowes.” sirius readjusted to that dorcas sat a bit more easily on his back. they’d made it all the way up the stairs by some miracle. with some cajoling, the fat lady finally opened up for them as well. sirius collapsed the girl onto the nearest sofa and then sat down next to her. he let out a big sigh.

dorcas wiggled around to that she could lay her head on his lap. the room had started spinning at some point, and she needed to close her eyes to steady herself. “you know I love you, right?” she asked, her voice even softer than when they were children.

a chuckled escaped sirius as he took a blanket and laid it over her shoulders. he rested a hand on the top of her head. “yeah, I know.”

[amphtaminedreams]

50 Films You’ve Got to Watch

Hi to anyone who’s reading,

I thought I’d take a break from the fashion posts to ramble on about something else that I’m really interested in for a hot minute. And I say ramble with intent, because I do go ON. 

The topic is film and I thought that I’d make a list of my 50 must watches. These are movies that I feel had the biggest impact on me which means, yes, I do have tattoos referring to a couple of them, lol. My genre of choice is usually horror and although there has been a bit of a “horror renaissance” and a shift towards prioritising good quality storylines over jump scares in recent years, on the whole, they typically aren’t the most highbrow films out there, so there aren’t THAT many on this list. Most of the horror films I listed are just genuinely good quality rather than a straight-up gorefest or anything too terrifying, however, I’m not that easily scared so if you did fancy watching any of the films I mentioned, take that with a slight pinch of salt!

Also, this isn’t anything to take too seriously. I really like movies and cinema but I’m also not a movie critic and this is more of a hobby than something I want to pursue. Like, I’m completely aware of how unrealistic working in TV or film is as a career if your family isn’t loaded. Very aware. Painfully aware you could say (imagine me sighing as I’m writing this). That being said, part of me does want to do a ranking of every film I’ve seen in 2019 at some point this year, so if anybody else is interested in this kinda thing let me know! 

Lauren x

50 Films You’ve Got to Watch:

1. Black Swan (2010)

“I felt it. Perfect. It was perfect.”

I watched Black Swan years ago now and I still remember how disturbing I found it and how exciting that was to me. I was probably a bit too young (young enough that my mum felt it necessary to cover my eyes during the Natalie Portman/Mila Kunis sex scene, lol) but even then I could recognise that it was a beautifully haunting film and Darren Aronofsky has gone on to be one of my favourite directors.

2. Jennifer’s Body (2009)

“And now, I'm eating your boyfriend. See? At least I'm consistent.”

Engrave it on my tombstone: JENNIFER’S BODY DESERVED BETTER. I fully believe that if this movie was released in 2019, it wouldn’t have faced half the criticisms it did back in 2009. It genuinely was ahead of its time. Megan Fox? As a boy-eating, demonic cheerleader? And Amanda Seyfried? Some of the most ICONIC DIALOGUE EVER? It should’ve invented a GENRE. Instead it got paid DUST. Yes, when I write in caps lock, my internal voice is YELLING. I feel passionately about this, okay?!

3. La La Land (2016)

“I guess I'll see you in the movies.”

Again, maybe it’s a basic film bitch opinion to have but I adored La La Land. I saw it at the cinema and spent the last 20 minutes of the film sobbing, only to find my mum and sister distinctly underwhelmed. I indignantly ranted back then to them how perfect a film it was and I’m going to do the same thing now so if you are reading and you didn’t like it, then you should probably just move on because I wouldn’t want to read myself banging on about Emma Stone again for several paragraphs either (don’t worry, I’ll try and keep it to one). I can’t help it. This film was just TOO REAL! Like, in every way but the actual plot and characters, La La Land has the dreamlike quality of a fairytale. The colours are rich and thick and always complimentary, the musical sequences are either like Disney songs or lullabies, and Emma and Ryan Gosling are made for each other. But then life and ambitions and resentments get in the way. And that’s the real part! That’s why it’s so bloody good! 

4. Easy A (2010)

“People thought I was a dirty skank? Fine. I’d be the dirtiest skank they’d ever seen.”

And so we arrive at the movie that actually began my love affair with Emma Stone. Iconic. Iconic in every way. The bad reputation montage is cinematic excellence. For real, though, this is so underrated as a coming of age movie. Like don’t get me wrong, Mean Girls is everything (I easily could’ve included it on this list but I feel like it’s just a given that anyone who grew up in the noughties loves that film) but Easy A deserves just as much credit. It has Penn Badgley, one of the few celebrity males I care about! Amanda Bynes! Aly Michalka! Lisa Kudrow! Did I mention Emma Stone?

5. Kill Bill (2003)

“Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time!”

If I had to put any of these films as my singular favourite, it would probably be the first Kill Bill. Controversial, I know; even my dad introduced it to me as the weaker of the two. To list any Quentin Tarantino movie as the one that inspired you to want to be a director is probably a very cliche film student thing to say BUT I’m not a film student and I’ve put my directing pipe dream permanently to one side, thus, coming from me it’s not as hackneyed a statement. Or so I tell myself, lol. Basically, I was in awe of Kill Bill from start to finish. The colourisation is a dream, from the crazy 88 scene to the final fight between The Bridge and O Ren Ishii, and I particularly remember loving the animation sequence despite that not really being my kinda thing. I was just so impressed with how seamlessly something so out of place, considering the live action format of the rest of the film, fit in with everything else; even the scenes that should be absurd instead work with the comic book style narrative. Uma Thurman is of course amazing and iconic af but Lucy Liu as O Ren Ishii is my favourite thing about this film and the line I chose gave me all the bad bitch energy I need to, I think, get me through the rest of my time on this planet. If not, the tattooed version of this still I have on my arm should hopefully do the job. Yep, I truly ascended to a divine level of basic film hoe with that life choice.

6. Marie Antoinette (2006)

“This, Madame, is Versailles.”

The first Sofia Coppola film on this list, I love this woman’s work to death. Regardless of the content she’s working with, the end result always gives me the feeling I’m watching an extended music video. They always have this almost dreamlike quality to them and everything from the colour palette to the camera movements to the soundtrack in Marie Antoinette is tied together perfectly.

7. Mother! (2017)

“You never loved me. You just loved how much I loved you.”

I was tense throughout the entirety of Mother. As a socially anxious, obsessively tidy control freak, this whole film was like something from one of my nightmares; think unwanted house party on crack. I was mentally screaming along with Jennifer Lawrence for all of those people to get out, whilst simultaneously just staring at her face because she is so fucking gorgeous! Even when she’s completely lost it! Totally unrealistic but it makes for some really pretty shots! And then there’s the ending which left me kind of like “what the fuck did I just watch?” Which is what Darren Aronofsky films do best. They’re terrifying but also quite beautiful and Mother is no exception.

8. Gerald’s Game (2017)

“Everybody's got a little corner in there somewhere. A button they won't admit they want pressed.”

I finally got round to watching this for the first time the other day and I absolutely loved it. It probably helps that the last Stephen King adaptation I saw was Pet Sematary, so despite the praise this got at the time, my expectations weren’t super high, but I think this really is a perfect horror film. It’s clever, doesn’t rely on jump scares, and the creepy scenes that are in there really get under your skin. It drags a little in the middle though it’s beautifully shot, acted and has one of the few “body horror” scenes in a horror that’s actually made me cringe.

9. A Beautiful Mind (2001)

“I think that's what it's like with all our dreams and our nightmares, Martin, we've got to keep feeding them for them to stay alive.”

I don’t want to say too much about this film and spoil the plot, so I’ll just say that it’s incredible. Devastatingly sad but also wonderfully hopeful at the same time, and solidified my interest in psychology! I could watch Jennifer Connelly all day.

10. Alien (1979)

“This is Ripley, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off.”

As a horror fan, I don’t think I need to explain why this film’s on the list. It’s been raved about and video essayed and called a pioneer of the genre ad nauseam. Again, not that this is really anything new but part of what I love about this movie is the context of its release and success; before Sigourney Weaver’s portrayal of Ellen Ripley, it was a rare occurrence to have a female protagonist in an action-based movie. Alien really paved the way for women to take up space in a previously male-dominated genre.

11. 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016)

“Crazy is building your ark after the flood has already come.”

I saw this for the first time at the cinema and pretty much went in blind. I hadn’t seen Cloverfield but I love Mary Elizabeth Winstead (Final Destination 3 was always my favourite of the franchise, lol) and there wasn’t really anything else on worth seeing, so my sister and I chose this and it was an experience. Like, of all the films on this list, this is probably the one that had me most on edge and I’m not sure watching it on your laptop on Putlocker will do it justice. You need the curtains pulled to, the volume way up and complete silence.

12. American Psycho (2000)

“Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now, you fucking stupid bastard!”

There isn’t a dull moment in American Psycho. Every line is quotable and every scene is straight to the point. I feel like this film is a masterclass in that Stanley Kubrick quote about editing where he says he liked to get rid of everything that was not absolutely vital to advancing the plot or the audience’s understanding of the character in any way. Plus, the ending is trippy af! Or maybe I’m just a bit oblivious to something that was quite obvious throughout, who knows. Either way, what the final scenes really mean are fun to think about.

13. The Descent (2005)

“I'm an English teacher, not fucking Tomb Raider.”

Okay, so I literally just watched this the other day and had to begrudgingly remove Silent Hill to make space for it (I KNOW it was critically panned and I KNOW the video game is better but I liked the visuals, OKAY!?) because The Descent is truly one of the best horror films I’ve ever seen. Before we even get to the supernatural element of the creatures, which are genuinely creepy for once, there’s a party bag of other phobia-inducing sequences that had me emotionally exhausted within the first half hour alone. Claustrophobia, darkness, heights, actual cringeworthy body horror, The Descent has something for everyone. The way it utilises space (or lack of for that matter) and darkness and panicked camera pans makes you feel as if you are really down in the cave with the characters. To add to that, I was actually rooting for all of them too; it probably helped that they were English rather than the typical American slasher cast but I found them to be a believable and likeable group of women. I truly did want them all to get out alive *spoilers*, which only made the ending all the more devastating and although the general narrative is quite predictable, the way in which things get wrapped up left just the right amount of shocks and questions to leave you reeling.

14. Eighth Grade (2018)

“Gucci.”

No film has ever captured what it’s like having social anxiety during “high school” (it’s called secondary school here in England, I know, but you get me) better than Eighth Grade. A tribute to the feeling of never quite fitting in and wishing you knew how to do what everyone else seems to be able to do naturally, it encapsulates that awkwardness with an accuracy that is really impressive considering that 1. it’s Bo Burnham’s first film, and 2. he’s not...like...a 13 year old girl. It is just as funny as it is sad and Elsie Fisher is great and so, so believable. Girl should’ve won some kind of Oscar.

15. American Beauty (1999)

“I don't think that there's anything worse than being ordinary.”

I wavered on whether or not to include this film on the list due to the Kevin Spacey controversy and decided that I had to with the disclaimer that I watched it quite some time before the stories about him came out and won’t ever watch any of the new things he inevitably ends up doing (because Hollywood has a notoriously short memory when it comes to the actions of disgraced male actors, lol). You can’t deny the amount of talent and skill that went into making a film so graceful and elegant and yet in equal parts unnerving, and I don’t think we should refuse to acknowledge the achievements of everyone else on that set because of Spacey’s behaviour. 

16. Bandersnatch (2018)

“The past is immutable, Stefan. No matter how painful it is, we can't change things. We can't choose differently with hindsight. We all have to learn to accept that.”

As I was watching/playing through Bandersnatch, I didn’t necessarily love it. I think I’m echoing a common sentiment when I say that I was kinda confused. I was desperately trying to *spoiler* avoid the option of the protagonist murdering their dad (he seemed like a nice guy!?) but somehow always ended up there by their logic. So I watched most of the endings and then I went on and busied myself for the rest of the evening. AND I COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. One minute I was completely deluding myself into believing the whole parallel universes thing was true and that I should test it out (don’t ask), and then the next I was thinking how disturbing it was that we’d been basically been inside the head of a person experiencing a mental breakdown severe enough for them murdering their dad, who had only ever wanted to help when you think about it objectively, to seem rational. The confusion started making sense within the context of the experience of the protagonist and our role as the audience and though I hadn’t realised it at the time, I’d been completely absorbed in the episode. Maybe the confusion wasn’t intentional, maybe I’m giving Charlie Brooker too much credit based on the recent couple of series of Black Mirror BUT I can’t deny that Bandersnatch left a huge mark on me, and after all, this is the man who wrote White Christmas. 

17. Get Out (2017)

“White girls. They get you every time.”

Going into this film, I was cocky. I’ve gotten pretty good at predicting what’s going to happen in things, probably just because I watch too much TV, but from the trailer I was sure I knew exactly what was going to happen. And then, I was completely blown away. The ending was SO SMART, in terms of both the within universe storytelling and also the metaphorical narrative/commentary on the way our society treats black men and women. Like those early episodes of Black Mirror, it had me like “how the fuck did Jordan Peele think of that!?”. I can only dream of being as creative in my writing one day. Even little plot points like where the “police” car turns up at the end and your stomach sinks and you realise the intention of that is most likely to help you empathise with what the average African-American person feels in their day to day life when police make themselves present, what with institutional police brutality and racial profiling; it’s clear so much thought went into this script.

18. Ghost Stories (2017)

“It's funny, isn't it? How it's always the last key that unlocks everything.”

I don’t have all too much to say about this one apart from that I love a well-constructed English horror. I feel like it’s something we don’t do all too often and to be honest, I’m struggling to think of many English horror films in the first place. Ghost Stories is a great example of why we need more; it’s smart and spooky and folky without hitting you over the head with all those elements and Andy Nyman is a perfect lead. Love a bit of Martin Freeman too.

19. Girl, Interrupted (1999)

“Crazy isn't being broken, or swallowing a dark secret. It's you, or me, amplified.”

Maybe this is the 13 year old black and white Tumblr girl in me jumping out but I still adore this film. I know it’s not necessarily the most critically well received but Winona Ryder, Angelina Jolie and Brittany Murphy are 3 of my favourite actresses and I do love the script. I also like the way that Borderline Personality Disorder was characterised in Winona’s character Susanna (I’m wavering on whether to call her a character as if I recall correctly the book was based on the author’s real experience) in that it was quite subtle and that she wasn’t portrayed as manipulative, or aggressive or basically, as the villain, which I feel is usually the go-to. It focussed more on the mood aspects and the way that people with BPD tend to latch onto and idealise others, as Susanna does with Lisa, and these are both things that I have personally struggled with in the past.

20. Hereditary (2018)

“All I do is worry and slave and defend you, and all I get back is that fucking face on your face!”

It was hard to find a quote that encapsulated what makes Hereditary so great because so much of it is about what isn’t said, if that makes sense. It’s a lot of pained silences and resentful looks and horrified screams, and doesn’t that sound like a fun time? Honestly, it’s not necessarily, lmao. Shocker. It has you feeling like something awful is about to happen the whole time, deep in the pit of your stomach, but I like that in a film, when it does make you properly feel. Ari Aster gets slow-burning dread just right in his exploration of dysfunctional families and grudges, with a few heart-sinking shocks thrown in for good measure all without overdoing the jump scares. There are a lot of deeply unnerving “supernatural” moments but there are just as many horrifically realistic familial conflict scenes that give you that whole “something is wrong” gut instinct in equal measures. It’s been a year and I’m still so angry that Toni Collette didn’t get an Oscar nomination for her performance, because it was really the perfect opportunity to break down the invisible wall between horror and critical recognition. On a more positive note, I loved Midsommar too (not as much as Hereditary but it was still a trip) and I cannot wait to see what Ari Aster does next. Once again, I’ll be in the cinema on opening night.

21. Heathers (1988)

“Dear Diary, my teen-angst bullshit now has a body count.”

Heathers is iconic in every way: the outfits, the cast, the lines. I mean, the acting can be a bit iffy at times but I honestly think that without Heathers, Jennifer’s Body might never have existed and that’s a world I wouldn’t want to live in. There was so much choice when I was picking a line to summarise why I like it so much and of course, “fuck me gently with a chain saw, do I look like Mother Theresa?” deserves an honourable mention. You almost made it bby. The TV remake? We don’t speak of it.

22. Hot Fuzz (2007)

“The way we see it, it’s all for the greater good.”

It might not be the “artiest” movie ever but I’ve seen Hot Fuzz so many times and it never gets old. Though I used to love it when I was younger purely for the PG-13 gore, now I appreciate it for the absurdity and the ridiculousness and to be honest, the total believability of the plot when it comes to towns ruled by low-key hostile, doddery old white people. I should know, I live in one.

23. Inglourious Basterds (2009)

“You probably heard we ain't in the prisoner-takin' business. We in the killin' Nazi business. And cousin, business is a-boomin’.”

I wish I wasn’t a hoe for Quentin Tarantino films (I’ve felt personally attacked by many a poundlandbandit starter pack) but I am. The breakneck pacing, the tongue in cheek dialogue and the gore all make this one of my ultimate favourites. Also, I have a huge crush on Melanie Laurent. Yes, it’s the French accent. No, I don’t know the mechanics of how that works. I hear someone speak French and I want to marry them! I can’t help it!

24. Ingrid Goes West (2017)

“Are you actually insane?”

This seems like a random choice to have on the list seeing as it was never really that hyped up, nor did it receive masses of critical acclaim. It did get positive reviews but that was about it. However, as soon as I saw the trailer, I knew I had to see it. Months, and an £8 purchase from HMV later, I finally got to watch Ingrid Goes West and I loved every moment of it. Whilst Aubrey Plaza’s character, I feel, is an exploration of a lot of young women’s insecurities and self-doubts and fears, blown up to monstrous proportions (or maybe just mine, lol), and a 90 minute film about that doesn’t sound all that revolutionary, this one is as intense as it is stylish and darkly comedic and that’s what puts it on the map for me. 

25. Insidious (2011)

“I like to call them travellers.”

So this film scared the ever-living SHIT out of me when I was younger and though I now consider horror my favourite genre and watch it on the regular with absolutely no qualms, 13 year old me was (not to use the world lightly) mildly traumatised. I genuinely couldn’t be home alone by myself or sleep at night without thinking the old woman ghost from the beginning was outside my room for a good 6 months or so. Like it literally exacerbated an already present sleep disorder to the point where my understandably frustrated-at-being-woken-up-nightly-by-her-panicking-daughter mother got me referred for CBT (to reflect on a time when I didn’t know what CBT or CAMHS was is…blissful, lol). And maybe because of that, in my mind, I still conceptualise it as one of the very few horror movies that has actually scared me, hence its place on the list. That scene where we first see that Star Wars looking red faced devil? I’d probably still nope out even now.

26. It Follows (2014)

“It could look like someone you know or it could be a stranger in a crowd. Whatever helps it get close to you.”

There’s not too much to say about It Follows, other than that it’s a good horror film and more importantly just a really good film. I feel it’s a crucial, early part of this warmly welcomed horror renaissance we are now fully in the thick of where writers are focussing less on making people gasp and more on actual good quality cinema. It’s a simple concept that leaves enough room for you to ask your own questions whilst still feeling somewhat complete, and not annoyingly open-ended. The shots are good, the characters are normal enough to be believable, and the colour palette is Fincher-esque; the muted tones perfectly complement the feelings of dread that run throughout. Whilst you don’t need to be concerned with what the whole thing is a metaphor of in order to enjoy the film, the possibility of there being that second reading of the narrative, for me, elevate it to a higher level. In other words, it’s got *Shrek voice* layers.

27. Juno (2007)

“I'm just gonna go ahead and nip this thing in the bud. Cuz you know, they say pregnancy often leads to…you know...an infant.”

I love Ellen Page. I love Michael Cera. Together they are the best thing ever. See, I’m not really much of a rom-com girl but I see this as less of a rom-com and more of a coming of age film with romantic snippets and great one liners. It’s sweet and whimsical and funny but also really fucking real in parts, and it’s definitely what I would consider a modern classic. If you haven’t watched it already, do!

28. Suspiria (2018)

“Love and manipulation, they share houses very often. They are frequent bedfellows.”

Witches! Ballet dancing! Decapitation! Tilda Swinton! What’s not to love? As soon as I saw the trailer for Suspiria, I knew I had to see it. Creepy but also beautifully shot and scored, it was worth the 8 month wait from the Venice Film Festival and eventual caving and watching on 123Movies after I couldn’t find the DVD on Amazon; I finally got to tick it off my watch list only to like it so much I had to add the original Suspiria back on.

29. Mulholland Drive (2001)

“I hope that I never see that face, ever, outside of a dream.”

Another film which had me like WTF by the end, I really recommend Mulholland Drive for anyone who wants to be vaguely creeped out and extremely confused at the same time. See, I really love a film where you spend the next few hours after watching researching all the different interpretations and reading interviews with the director. That sounds sarcastic, but honestly, I love it. It’s a moody, film-noir style mindfuck of a movie and even after doing my research I’m still quite baffled. That’s the best part. 

30. Requiem for a Dream (2000)

“Purple in the morning, blue in the afternoon, orange in the evening.”

It took me a while to get on board with seeing Marlon Wayans in a serious role (I’ve seen White Chicks far too many times, clearly), but once I did, I was into it. To be totally honest, I don’t think there’s a single happy moment in this film; it comes up quite frequently as one of the most disturbing of all time, which I’m sure Aronofsky probably thinks of as another notch on his belt. Whilst imo, that’s quite a grandiose claim, Requiem for a Dream definitely stuck in my mind after I watched it. Even if you’ve never watched the film, the ending sequence is notorious for how fucked up it is and I do think it’s earned the infamy. What stuck out more to me, though, was how purposeful every shot and sequence felt in terms of trying to let you into the character’s states of mind, the short lived bursts of euphoria and the panicked downwards spirals.  I think it will always be one of the most compelling films about addiction for highlighting how terrifyingly out of one’s control it can be.  

31. Room (2015)

“No one is strong alone.”

This film made me cry buckets. Brie Larson and Jacob Tremblay are wonderful, and everyone involved deserved all the Oscar hype. Every line was so heartfelt and emotive, and I loved Tremblay’s voiceovers. To translate the stream of consciousness of a kid from page to screen in a way that it remains believable in spite of its wisdom (not like those tweets where people try to make out their kid just casually made some off the cuff scathing political jibe at the dinner table) is quite the feat and similarly, I’m in awe of how the director managed to communicate the pain and confusion of the characters on a level that transcended the physical confines of said room. The escape scene had my heart in my mouth. All this being said, I should really read the book because it’s supposed to be even better. 

32. Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (2010)

‘When I'm around you, I kind of feel like I'm on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do drugs, in which case I do them all the time. All of them.”

Michael Cera and Mary Elizabeth Winstead are two of my favourite actors and so it’s a given that Scott Pilgrim is one of my favourite films. It’s such a fun, easy watch and the video-game inspired directorial style makes it, in terms of cinematography, probably the most memorable Edgar Wright film on this list imo. The concept, based on the graphic novel, is quite a simple one but that doesn’t stop it being entertaining from start to finish. The rest of the cast is great too: Brie Larson, Anna Kendrick, Mae Whitman, Aubrey Plaza and Alison Pill (Ivy from American Horror Story, anyone?) All make appearances, plus Chris Evans. He’s Captain America or something, right?

33. Scream (1996)

“No, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!”

The Scream movies were my absolute favourite when I was just getting into “horror” as a 13/14 year old because they were always pretty tame in terms of scares but nonetheless, always a trip. Though, controversially, I’d probably say I enjoyed Scream 4 just as much as the first one (I am a bit of an Emma Roberts stan), I chose the first one purely for how iconic it was and how ahead of its time. It mixed satire and horror in a way that hadn’t really been done in such a mainstream way before and made it possible for films like Cabin in the Woods and The Final Girls to do so well.

34. Shaun of the Dead (2004)

“Take car. Go to Mum's. Kill Phil, sorry, grab Liz, go to the Winchester, have a nice cold pint, and wait for all of this to blow over.”

I’ve seen Shaun of the Dead way, way, way too many times and I’ll still probably watch it again the next time ITV decide to show it too. It makes me laugh, it’s got lots of good gore and it’s easy to follow. The perfect film to put on whilst eating a take away, as long as you’re not too squeamish, lol.

35. Silence of the Lambs (1991)

“Well, Clarice. Have the lambs stopped screaming?”

Jodie Foster’s portrayal of Clarice Starling makes her one of my favourite movie heroines of all time; quietly courageous, she was the type of female lead that really hadn’t cropped up all that much in the films that came before Silence of the Lambs. And despite its problematic handling of certain issues, it’s a fucking incredible film. The thing about Hannibal Lecter is that they don’t have to tell you that he’s always one step ahead, you see it for yourself (the elevator scene!) and so it kinda feels like he’s looking into YOUR soul too. The confrontation at the end between Clarice and Buffalo Bill is one of the most nerve-racking 15 minutes or so of film I’ve ever watched, and if I ever get asked to justify why I’m scared of the dark again, I’m going to point straight to this scene. Yes, I’m a baby but my fears are VALID!

36. Silver Linings Playbook (2012)

“I do this! Time after time after time! I do all this shit for other people! And then I wake up and I'm empty! I have nothing!”

As you can probably tell from my inclusion of Mother! on this list, I love Jennifer Lawrence, and this is probably my favourite drama film of hers. The way that she and Bradley Cooper portray two people struggling with mental illness is refreshingly honest in that it shows it can make you quite an unlikeable person at times, albeit someone who is just trying their best to survive. That being said, in spite of the subject matter it’s still a relatively light and easy-to-watch film. The diner scene in particular is a masterclass in realistic conflict and reaction, and I hate to be “ooo, edgy” but several of the lines did strike a really deep chord.

37. The Babadook (2014)

“Sometimes I just want to smash your head against the brick wall until your fucking brains pop out.”

The best thing that the Babadook does, much like It Follows, is instils a sense of deep seated dread in you before you even see the supernatural forces at work. The washed out colour palette, apparent emotional disconnect of Jennifer Kent’s (who also directs!) character, and the disorienting movements of the camera all help to create a lingering unease that is just as effective as the grossly uncanny appearance of the monster/ghost/creature/whatever-you-want-to-call-it himself. It’s obvious that Kent had a very clear vision of the story she wanted to tell and even more so that she is a very talented woman; I hope to see even more female directed horror films in the future if the Babadook is anything to go by. The way this film blurred the lines between the inner struggles of a grieving family and the outside supposedly paranormal influence was unsettling as fuck and to get into the psychology of a mother left on her own to raise a small child and how terrifying that might feel is something only a immensely intuitive and empathetic woman could do. Props to her.

38. The Craft (1996)

“We are the weirdos, mister.”

Not to sound all halloween-is-the-only-day-of-the-year-I-care-about VSCO girl (although that might actually be quite an accurate description of me to be honest), but if there’s one thing that sticks in my mind about the craft, it’s the aesthetic. It’s kind of what I aim to emulate in every aspect of my life, NBD. Seriously, when I was trying to pick a still, I was spoilt for choice. The rituals, the outfits, the witchy interiors; there’s this one GIF of Nancy, Rochelle, Bonnie (and maybe Sarah?) lighting all these gorgeous candles and if I could walk around with it permanently looping on my forehead, I would. And ignoring my shallow reasons for liking The Craft, it’s just a really good film. Nancy Downs is probably one of the most interesting female villains of all time and I’m obsessed with anything that explores magic and the occult. It’s equal parts dark and girly, not to use that in a derivative way at all, in that not only does it teeter on the line of being scary, it’s also a gritty exploration of female friendship, power and jealousy. If you are a halloween-is-the-only-day-of-the-year-I-care-about VSCO girl, definitely watch it; more power to you.

39. The Favourite (2018)

“All I know is, your carriage awaits and my maid is on her way up with something called a pineapple.”

I’d seen The Favourite twice within, like, a month of it being released in British cinemas and I do not have a single regret about that; well, maybe a minor regret in paying over £12 to see it in the Leicester Square Odeon with the assumption that the extra price meant fancy seats (it didn’t), but on the whole, I’m pretty happy with my life choices. Emma Stone, Olivia Colman, and the period Mean Girls comparison drew me in but I came back the second time for the costumes, the dialogue, the editing and Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough. Or Rachel Weiss, in other words. See, The Favourite is superbly casted in that Yorgos Lanthimos must have known we can’t help but see Emma Stone as the “good girl”/protagonist and so it took me a whole second viewing to see her character for what she really was, and realise The Favourite is in some ways less a story of Abigail Masham’s rise to power and more the tragic disintegration of Sarah and Anne’s relationship. I’m sure you can view the film both ways but to view it as the latter brings a whole new dimension to it and the ending, imo. I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t go into the film expecting some vaguely historical lesbianism and that definitely made for a slightly awkward birthday viewing with my family BUT I wasn’t at all disappointed.

40. The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)

“If you dig a hole in the yard, better make it a big one.”

This film is slow-moving, weird and the acting can be stiff at the best of times, and yet somehow all these things add to the (take a shot every time I say-) dread that builds throughout. You don’t know exactly how things are going to end, but you do know it’s not well. Like in his latest directorial entry of The Favourite, Yorgos Lanthimos excels in the realm of the strange and vaguely fantastical through his script, score and cinematography, and so even though the settings are quite mundane, The Killing of a Sacred Deer kind of feels like some macabre modern fairytale, the moral of which I can’t quite work out. I can’t imagine anyone playing Martin more unnervingly than Barry Keoghan and I’m never going to complain about Nicole Kidman, but it’s the imagery of the tears of blood, Steven’s children dragging themselves along the floor and the ending scene that stuck with me long after the film had finished. If you’ve got the patience and you enjoyed the style of The Favourite, there’ll definitely be something positive for you to take away from The Killing of a Sacred Deer.

41. The Orphanage (2007)

“Seeing is not believing. It's the other way around. Believe, and you will see.”

When I was first told by my year 11 Spanish teacher that we were going to be watching The Orphanage in class, I definitely didn’t foresee myself including it in a top 50 films list 5 years later and yet here we are. I mean, I shouldn’t have been surprised really as she did tell us it was good and I had frequently seen it included in lists of the best horror films but as with pretty much anything our teachers would put on as an excuse not to teach for a few lessons (I’m really NOT complaining here, they deserve the break and I would definitely do the same, lol), my expectations were definitely low. Side note, I also since found out that Bilbao seems like a pretty cool place and there was a reason she kept banging on about that too, and so moral of the story, teachers do sometimes have some decent recommendations BUT my assumption was that The Orphanage must be pretty tame for her to show it to us. Parents-even of 16 of year olds-love to complain, lol. And to be fair,  it isn’t so much in your face scary so much as it is kind of tragic with an undertone of spooky but I really enjoyed it. I want to say that part of what I enjoyed about it so much was the mystery element but honestly I think a lot of that comes from the fact that it’s in Spanish so I had to work to follow what was actually going on. 

42. The Ring (2002)

“I can't imagine being stuck down a well all alone like that. How long could you survive?”

The Ring does visuals better than any other horror. The contorted faces of Samara’s victims, the infamous tape and the shots of the well all have a staple in pop culture for a reason. Whilst I don’t find Samara herself particularly frightening, the lore and mythology surrounding her feels so authentically creepy; the tape in particular reminds me of the kind of weird YouTube video you might stumble across when you’re supposed to be trying to get to bed late at night and instantly hate yourself for watching. Naomi Watts is a compelling lead and though I was probably rooting for Sarah Michelle Gellar in the American remake of the Grudge more (I still low-key associate her with the live-action Scooby-Doo and I have no shame), to compare other noughties horror classics, on the whole The Ring is definitely the better quality movie.

43. The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

“I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

The Shawshank Redemption is just an unequivocally good film. On paper, it doesn’t necessarily have any of the things that draw me to a movie in it, but it’s brilliantly acted, written and shot. It’s frequently cited as one of the greatest movies of all time and I think that’s a very fair statement.

44. The Shining (1980)

“Wendy? Darling? Light of my life. I'm not gonna hurt ya. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going to bash your brains in!”

I love The Shining. In terms of scares, not all that much happens in it, but what we do see (the corpse in the bath tub is fucking horrifying) undoubtedly leaves an impact. The score is so unnervingly perfect that I can still hear the sound that’s made when we see those 2…puppets? Costumed people? Basically some kind of weird furry activity-which believe me, makes sense if you’ve seen it-going on. And I only need to see a still of the Overlook Hotel and I can immediately feel the sense of claustrophobia and growing tension that Stanley Kubrick so effectively communicated. A lot of people shat on Shelley Duvall’s acting at the time and whilst she obviously didn’t match Jack Nicholson’s energy, she did come across as a woman genuinely traumatised which is sad when you do consider the effect that shooting the film had on her. With that aside, The Shining is a massively pivotal part of horror history and I’m very excited to see Doctor Sleep this year!

45. The Virgin Suicides (1999)

“Obviously, Doctor, you've never been a 13-year-old girl.”

It really is a toss up between Marie Antoinette and The Virgin Suicides when it comes to Sofia Coppola’s best film, and so of course I had to include them both. See, whereas Marie Antoinette could be the visual incarnation of an album like Marina and the Diamonds’ Electra Heart or Charli XCX’s Sucker (if you ignore the less than fortunate ending, lmao), The Virgin Suicides plays out more to the tunes of something less bubblegum pop and more breezy and mellow, maybe LDR’s Ultraviolence or Honeymoon. You could say in a way that this film romanticises suicide and you’d definitely have a point, but I think considering the fact that it’s based on a book and was made in a time when we were less aware of the damage popular media can do (I think there’s a similar point to be made about the way the villain of Silence of the Lambs’s gender is portrayed and linked to his motivation), I give it a pass. It does also kind of make sense for the film to take this approach; the Lisbon girls are viewed through the eyes of a group of boys who are infatuated with them but also ultimately know nothing about them. In a way, it’s almost a critique of the way these boys think and a commentary on just how stifling and confusing young womanhood can be. I think it’s a beautiful film and a perfect adaptation of Jeffrey Eugenides’ novel.

46. The VVitch (2015)

“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

Is it sad that I have this quote tattooed on my back? Is it biased for me to say no? Because for me, just as much as the Virgin Suicides is about how stifling society’s expectations of young women and how they are supposed to think and act, The VVitch is about the demonisation of girls who go against this and how liberation and sexual freedom for so long were perceived as the result of some kind of satanic and deeply disturbing force at work rather than individual expressions of freedom and femininity. The ending is HAPPY, okay, and if you take away the misty, barren landscapes and the isolation and the paranoia and the baby eating witches and the accusations and the demonic goats, it’s kinda a dark feminist fairy tale to go against puritan panic. I mean, let’s be honest, *spoilers* Thomasin’s siblings were annoying AF. Not that I’m condoning child murder on any level, but you know. In a narrative context was it really so much of a loss when those little shits got the chop?

47. Thoroughbreds (2017)

“At the end of the day, I have a perfectly healthy brain. It just doesn't contain feelings. And that doesn't necessarily make me a bad person. It just means I have to work a little harder than everybody else to be good.”

I love Olivia Cooke. I love Anya Taylor-Joy. I love concise, cutting dialogue, the idea of middle class American social politics, and a little bit of (fictional, of course) murder thrown in there for good measure. Thus, I really love Thoroughbreds. If you watched it with the sound off, it’d be a Polo Ralph Lauren promotional film that gets really dark at the end, and what’s not to like about that?

48. We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011)

“What are these people watching, people like me?”

I still haven’t got round to reading the book this film was based on and I feel like that’s something I need to get on top of ASAP, because it’s been sitting on my shelf for a long ass time. However, based on the little I know about how faithful a film adaptation it is, I think Ezra Miller and Tilda Swinton were a wonderful pairing, and this is a film that’s all about the characters, so it’s a good job they were so well cast. Miller does a great job at getting right under your skin and answering a lot of my questions about what leads someone to commit the kind of horrific crime that his character, Kevin, does. Arrogance, done subtly, is hard to pull off but he nails it, and Swinton is very, very believable as a haunted, grief-stricken mother wrestling with the natural question of the part she played in her son’s actions and the scrutiny that comes with it. Not only that but from the offset, every part of the cinematography helps to convey the feeling of impending doom that builds right up until the climax. The colour palette in particular, which for the most part doesn’t stray too far from the mundane greys and bleak washed-out tones perhaps reflective of Eva’s state of mind, does a great job of foreshadowing what to come when it quite purposefully does take a diversion. It’s all about the red, apparently. Take note.

49. Whiplash (2014)

“Any fucking moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is an absolute necessity.”

You honestly wouldn’t believe that a film about drumming could feel like a horror and yet here Whiplash is, leaving me on the edge of my seat and wincing for, like, 2 hours straight. Tonally it couldn’t be more different from the other Damien Chazelle film on this list (La La Land), and yet it flows just as seamlessly and has his same impeccable rhythm; every word, yell and snarl slots perfectly into place and every swivel of the camera is flawlessly executed. If you’re looking for an intense and fast-paced drama, I can’t recommend Whiplash enough.

50. Zombieland (2009)

“Twelve's the new twenty. Gun please.”

Zombieland has only one fault: that Jesse Eisenberg’s character wasn’t played by Michael Cera. But it has Emma Stone and Woody Harrelson so I’ll let it slide. Not much to say about this one other than it’s a wild ride from start to finish, but simultaneously easy to watch and probably the most lighthearted zombie film out there. Almost like The Hangover or something along those lines, but with the addition of the undead. It’s a hard film not to enjoy and I’m just really hoping they don’t fuck up the sequel.

DISCLAIMER: 90% of these stills are from Filmgrab, it’s an amazing website!

[bangtanstanst]

Valentine’s | 5: Epilogue

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

When you spend your Valentine's with a relative stranger, you think it's nothing more than just plain old fun. Your friends, however, seem to think differently – and there might be a small part of you that agrees.

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: college!au, fluff

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption

word count: 2.5k

a/n: ahhhhhhh here it finally is!! The last part to the Valentine’s series :’) Before we get into it, I just wanted to thank everyone for the incredible response I’ve received on this so far, I’m always so happy to see that you guys like what I write :D Thanks for sticking with me throughout this, I’m so grateful to have you guys as my readers♥♥♥ It really feels bittersweet, uploading this; I’ve really loved writing this series and these characters :’) Anyways, I’ll stop ranting now – I hope you enjoy this last part!

›› tag list: @nambewb @namiiy @bts-lys @manimercury and @moonojoon ‹‹

masterlist

“And, well, to make a long story short…” Taehyung pauses for dramatic effect, sending you a grin as you walk along the corridor of your dorm building. It’s late Friday night, so the hallway is unsurprisingly active. Several doors are propped open and chatter floats from the apartment-style dorms into the hallway, music echoing off the walls and floor. People move from one dorm to the next, visiting friends to rant about the newest paper to be written, the tons of readings waiting to be done. Others have decided to ignore that for the time being, carrying heaps of laundry in their arms, heading towards the elevators in small groups.

“Jungkook fell out the window again.”

“What?” you exclaim, turning to look at him in disbelief without disconnecting your hand from his. “No way – the same one?”

Taehyung snickers at your surprise, nodding with a bright, boxy smile on his face. “Right through the crime scene tape.”

“Jesus Christ, how is that boy still walking on two legs?” you mutter with a shake of your head, digging around in your back pocket and fishing out your keys.

Simply laughing, Taehyung shrugs as you come to a stop at your door. “Hell if I know, I just relay the stories to you.”

You chuckle, pointing at him with your dorm key. “See, maybe that’s why he keeps doing this stuff. He just wants fame.”

Taehyung snorts, leaning against the wall as you fumble to unlock the door. “Believe me, it’s all accidental,” he replies as the door swings open.

You can hear the sounds of a movie soundtrack coming from the TV as you stuff your keys back into your pocket, and you figure May has decided to have a movie night by herself like she said she would. You don’t give it much thought, though, especially when Taehyung comes in for a back-hug to shuffle inside with you, chin leaning on your shoulder. His hair brushes the skin of your neck and you shiver, a smile teasing over your lips.

“Plus, you can’t deny you love hearing about– oh my god.”

His arms are suddenly gone, leaving you to step inside on your own. With a surprised laugh and raised eyebrows, you glance over your shoulder to see Taehyung standing frozen in the doorway, his wide eyes focused on something in the small living room. A bright, happy smile is tugging at his parted lips, however, which makes you even more confused – but when you turn your head to look into the same direction, all your questions fly right out the window and you gasp, having to hold back a squeal.

“Hi, guys,” May returns, sounding as casual as she can. She keeps her eyes on you, pointedly not looking at the figure sitting right next to her. Her flushed cheeks betray her, though, and your grin widens.

“May,” you reply with a formal nod, barely staying composed. “Yoongi.”

Yoongi nods right back, his cheeks only slightly less red than May’s. “What’s up?”

Taehyung snickers and you blindly swing your hand behind you, hitting his side, though it doesn’t seem to silence him quite as much as you’d hoped.

“Nothing much,” you reply, slipping off your coat without taking your eyes off of the two in front of you – the couple you’ve spent so long on trying to get together after that one-off makeout session at the frat party. “You?”

They exchange glances, pasting on the fakest smiles you’ve ever seen and shrugging. “Just watching a movie,” May replies. “Avoiding studying, you know how it is.”

You glance at the TV, crossing your arms while Taehyung finally closes the door with a soft click. “Oh, yeah?” you inquire, one eyebrow raised. You realise you walked in on them before something actually happened, but you might as well try to get them to confess to something, anything. You refuse to admit mission Yay was a failure, dammit. “What kinda movie?”

Both May and Yoongi’s heads whirl around to look at the TV, though unfortunately for them, the credits are rolling and the text doesn’t give them much. “Uh… j-just a… romcom?”

“Yes, exactly,” Yoongi agrees with a firm nod, confidently looking back at you and Taehyung – as if you don’t know what’s really going on here.

“Oh? Which one?” you ask innocently, walking over to them and plopping down on the couch they’re not occupying. Leaning against the backrest, you cross your legs and fold your hands in your lap, staring at them with a raised eyebrow – you can barely hold back the laugh you feel bubbling up when they stare right back, their cheeks flushing almost simultaneously.

Taehyung soon follows you to the couch corner, though he swipes the remote off of the coffee table before he can be stopped and points it at the TV, pausing the movie so he can read the title – “Ah, of course. The famed romcom that is Batman: The Dark Knight.”

You snicker into your hand, watching as both May and Yoongi’s eyes flutter closed and they shake their heads, disappointed.

“It was just- we were-” May pauses in hesitation, eyes popping open as she tries to think of her next ‘explanation’.

“Talking,” Yoongi quickly fills in.

May nods frantically, pointing at the man next to her. “Exactly. Two friends, talking.”

You just grin at her as Taehyung sits down next to you, settling against the armrest and letting you lean your back against his chest instead of the couch. “Right, of course,” you say with a nod and for a second, you see relief in their eyes – until you speak up again. “The language of loooo-”

“Okay!” May jumps up, clapping her hands for good measure. “It’s late. Movie’s over. Bedtime has arrived. Time to go, Min!”

Yoongi simply nods, shooting up from the couch and scurrying over to the front door. You watch the two of them with a small smile, tilting your head as they start to talk, voices low and hushed. “Oh, how the tables have tabled,” you remark as Taehyung puts his arms around you, allowing you to pick up his hand and play with his fingers.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, though you feel his chin brush your hair as he nods. May is saying something to Yoongi, once again too lowly for you or Taehyung to eavesdrop, though it makes him laugh.

“I think we mistimed our entrance again, though,” Taehyung whispers, breath fanning into your hair. You pout, nodding, knowing that something might really have happened between the two of them – finally – if you’d walked in just a few minutes later. “I told you we should’ve gotten that fourth plate of chicken wings.”

You snort, lightly elbowing his side, though he just laughs. “I’m starting to think we should reconsider locking them in a room, just to speed the process up a bit.”

“They were locked in a room, we just barged in on them like idiots before they could actually get it on,” Taehyung shoots back. You can hear the amused smile through his words and you can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head.

“You’re really going all-in on those extra chicken wings, aren’t you?” you remark, watching as Yoongi shrugs on his jacket and he and May start taking incredibly slow steps towards the entrance.

Taehyung huffs into your hair. “Come on, how can you ever have enough of those chicken wings?”

You let out a longing sigh, nodding slowly as you lean further into him. “Good point,” you mutter in reply, dreamily smacking your lips. “We’ll have an early lunch next time, to prepare.”

Taehyung cheers softly, arms tightening around your torso to wiggle you back and forth in some weird kind of victory dance. It makes you laugh and you’re shaking your head in mock-disappointment, though you go along with it anyway.

“We should –” You fall silent, laughter dying out and your movements stilling when the door opens, forcing both May and Yoongi to jump back and allow for whoever’s entering to actually walk inside.

“What do we have here?” April remarks, eyebrows raised as she looks between May and Yoongi, now standing two feet apart.

“Movie night,” May replies, so fast that April seems taken aback. “But it’s over now.”

Yoongi simply nods as Namjoon enters right behind April, his hand intertwined with hers. “What she said.”

You snort, managing to suppress a full burst of laughter. In reply, May simply sends you a glare over her shoulder, slipping past her friends to hold the door open for Yoongi and bid him goodbye. April and Namjoon, however, raise their eyebrows at you, taking a few steps towards you and leaning forward in silent inquiry.

You can only shrug apologetically and the two seem disappointed at your answer, sighing – just as May and Yoongi both walk outside.

The four of you exchange surprised looks as you jump up from the couch, eyes wide.

“Did they just… ?”

“I think they did.”

“Should we –”

“Duh!”

You dash towards the front door, coming to an abrupt stop next to April and Namjoon, who haven’t even gotten the chance to take off their coats yet. Taehyung joins you a moment later, and the four of you put your ears to the door, eyes fluttering closed as you attempt to listen to what’s happening in the hallway – but the voices are muffled, and any and all words you could hypothetically understand are pretty much overpowered by the music coming from a different dorm.

“Come the fuck on, guys, we’ve waited long enough,” April mutters, letting out a sigh as May’s laughter echoes through the corridor.

“They’re not gonna do anything out there, too many eyes,” you return, shaking your head in disappointment and removing your ear from the door to stand up straight again. “Tonight’s not the night, guys.”

Taehyung looks at you with a regretful frown, ear still glued to the door. “We definitely fucked this up, didn’t we?”

You nod slowly, opening your mouth to agree, but April’s intense glare shuts you up. “You interrupted them? Again?”

“In our defence, it wasn’t like there was a sock on the doorknob or something,” you return, holding up your hands. “We would’ve stayed the hell out, had we known those two were in there.”

“Plus,” Taehyung adds, looking over at April. “You guys messed up last time, so I think we’re– ah, Jesus!” He, April, and Namjoon are suddenly hit in the head by an opening door and they jump back, groaning. You burst out in laughter, receiving only glares in reply while May slips past you to start clearing up some of the trash she and Yoongi made.

“Come on, first you don’t wanna get more chicken wings and now you’re laughing at my pain and suffering?” Taehyung huffs in disbelief, rubbing his ear. April and Namjoon are doing the same next to him, retreating into the kitchen.

You just grin at him, shrugging. “Told you tonight wasn’t gonna be the night.”

“There is no ‘the night’ to speak of here,” May protests, carrying a half-empty bag of chips back to the kitchen, though April snatches it out of her hand before she can put it away. “Yoongi and I are just friends and that is all, thank you very much.”

“Ha! Don’t make me laugh,” April comments, smugly stuffing some chips in her mouth. Taehyung brushes past you, sending you the biggest pout you’ve ever seen, and you pout right back, following him to the couch. “You don’t think we can see those red cheeks of yours, huh?”

“Honestly, I’ve seen the way he talks to you and believe me, that is not how he talks to ‘just a friend’,” Namjoon adds, opening his mouth so April can feed him some snacks. You stop next to the couch Taehyung has settled on, where he’s still holding up a façade of annoyance, crossing his arms – though his lips are already twitching, starting to curl upwards. “If it’s certainty you want, I can just go up and ask him.”

“No!” May replies immediately. When you take a step closer to Taehyung and hold out your hand, smiling hopefully at him, a smile starts to break through. “Why are you even– no!”

“Come on, Five, admit it,” April insists. “You like the guy. You wanna make out with him again, and then talk and hang out, and then make out some more.”

“Yeah, Five!” you say, laughing when Taehyung suddenly smiles brightly, quite literally throwing his arms open to you. He grabs your hand and tugs you down to the couch, pulling you into him as you mutter a ‘hey!’ in protest, though you don’t really resist. “Just take that first step,” you tell her, leaning your back on Taehyung’s chest, your legs resting in between his, his arms snaking around your torso once more.

May snorts and shakes her head at you. “Says you.”

You just shrug and smile. “Hey, at least I got over it in, like, a week,” you shoot back, holding up your hand for Taehyung to high five.

He firmly slaps it. “Damn right she did,” he beams, dropping his hand back onto your stomach.

May huffs and rolls her eyes, grabbing the bag of chips out of April’s hands. “That was different. You weren’t friends,” she protests, taking a handful of chips and eating them all at once.

“Even better that you are!” you shoot back. “Means you can just tell him that it’s a joke if he doesn’t feel the same.”

With another bitter laugh, May shakes her head once more, handing the chips back to April. “Don’t hold your breath.”

“I’ll give them another week and a half,” Taehyung stage-whispers into your ear.

You snicker, ignoring the warning glare May sends you as she puts some dirty glasses into the sink. “Five bucks on two weeks.”

“No, guys, we have that party next week, remember?” April calls from across the room, shaking her head seriously. “Ten bucks something happens then.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Define ‘something’.”

April just smirks mischievously, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I’d say –”

“Anyways!” May exclaims, adding a single clap to her words. It’s enough to interrupt April, and May snatches the bag of chips out of her hands once more, settling on the couch she occupied with Yoongi just before. “What did you guys do tonight?” she asks pointedly, her voice unnaturally high-pitched. “How was the food? How was the atmosphere? Who won tonight’s staring contest? Tell me everything!”

While it is by no means a smooth transition, you all decide to let it go for now. The conversation soon moves on to chicken wings and drinking games, though you can’t stop smiling knowingly at your friend. You know that look in her eyes, you know the blush on her cheeks – you went through it all yourself, for god’s sake. And if there’s one thing you learned from it, it’s that she’ll get to ‘the night’ soon enough, with or without your… ‘help’.

Of course, that doesn’t mean you won’t stop trying. You’re having way too much fun for that.

previous

a/n: thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it!! Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of this part and of the series, I’d love to hear from you♥ I hope you have a great day/night wherever you are :))

masterlist

[seeaddywrite]

stars, hide your fires

this fic has been started approximately four different times, & no matter how much i cut or rearrange, it still ends up as a multi-chapter, so i’m giving up the fight & doing it. it’s been a challenge, but one i’m enjoying. currently, i’m guessing this will end up at about ten chapters, depending on how it goes. my goal is to update twice a week -- feel free to keep me accountable. :)

based on this prompt from @roswellprompts: “post-finale. malex eventually, preferably. alex goes undercover with his brothers to learn about the weapon they're developing and pretends he's on their side. everyone suspects he's truly gone dark. even alex can't tell the difference sometimes.”

thanks to @soberqueerinthewild for letting me rant about this fic, reading over it, & for basically being the best. also, thanks to @ubiestcaelum for Hunter’s name & being generally awesome. 

“Manes, come on,” Valenti whines from behind Alex, sounding more like a disappointed teenager than the fully grown, mature man  he’s supposedly become. “Liz is cooking at Evans’ tonight, and neither of us get enough home cooking to miss it.”

The feel of displaced air on the back of his neck as Kyle steps up behind him makes Alex tense a little -- it’s hard to relax with people out of his line of sight, even when it’s someone he trusts. Old habits die hard, and Alex has plenty of reason to remain vigilant. But since Kyle Valenti has somehow stepped back into his life and decided to fill the position of ‘best friend’ that he’d vacated back in high school, Alex doesn’t react, and only rolls his eyes at the whining.

“You’re only this desperate to go because you know Liz is bringing Arturo’s enchiladas,” Alex teases him, knowing full well that no one would be this excited over Liz’s cooking. The woman is a genius with lab equipment, but she lacks when it comes to measuring cups and kitchen timers. He’s learned that the hard way over the many dinner get-togethers their little circle has held in the last several months. It’s a habit Liz started when Rosa was first brought back, and she, Michael, and Isobel were still grieving Max, and it’s continued even now that Rosa has fully reintegrated to Roswell living and they’ve successfully managed to bring Max back from the dead.

Alex won’t admit it aloud, but those dinners have quickly become his favorite part of the week. Having Liz and Rosa around so often is a balm to the loneliness he’s been battling for months, and when Maria joins them -- still, unfortunately, in the dark about the alien truths -- Alex can almost pretend everything is back to normal. And on top of that, he’s found that he actually likes Max and Isobel Evans, despite rocky beginnings. In some tangential way, they’re family; no matter what his relationship status with Michael, that will always be true.

And then, of course, there’s the fact that those dinners are the one time that he’s guaranteed to see Guerin smile. They’ve passed the awkward exes phase, and now that the relationship with Maria has died a natural death, Alex doesn’t even feel guilty when their eyes meet and he feels that old, familiar chemistry flare between them. It’s a slow, delicious burn, and he’s looking forward to the resolution.

“Obviously,” Valenti agrees with an unconcerned shrug, drawing Alex back into their banter and away from distracting thoughts of Guerin. “But if you tell Liz I said that, I’m telling her that you fed the last meal she left for you to the beagle after she left.” He shoves playfully at Alex’s shoulder, and takes the return swat in stride before returning to his attempts at persuasion.“But, seriously, we’ve been through those files a thousand times already. You’re not going to find anything we haven’t already seen, so I think whatever this is can wait until tomorrow so we can go get some decent food for once. Don’t you?”

It probably could wait until tomorrow. There’s no reason for Alex to believe the incongruous firewall he’d just run into in some of Project Shepherd’s newest files is hiding anything more than the usual information on alien torture disguised as science -- but something in his gut is telling him that he needs to dig deeper, to find out what lies behind the wall of code that had been cleverly hidden in plain sight. And if Alex learned anything during his time on active duty, it’s that he should always trust his gut.

“You go ahead,” he tells Kyle, most of his attention still directed at the complicated coding sequences he’s creating with sharp, precise movements of his fingers over the keyboard. “Tell everyone I’ll see them soon, but there’s something here, and I --” Alex blinks in surprise, cutting himself off. “-- wow. It’s like they’re not even trying to keep me out.”

Like most of Jesse Manes’ sad attempts at cyber security, the firewall keeping Alex from the information he wants buckles under the weight of less than five minutes of Alex’s direct attention. He’s not even surprised, anymore -- his father has always been more of a bruiser than a thinker, and coding takes a certain kind of creativity, an ability to create. A man who only knows how to destroy could never possess that skill.

Both men go silent and still as images begin to pop up on the screens, and Alex swallows convulsively to quell sudden nausea. Surveillance footage from Roswell -- all from the last six months. Somehow, Project Shepherd has remained up and running despite Alex’s father’s sudden disappearance from the scene, and whoever’s behind it has been watching both Evans’ houses, Michael’s trailer, and the Crashdown, from the looks of things.

Panic begins to swell in the back of Alex’s mind as he remembers all of the things that have happened in those locations -- all of the suddenly not-dead people who have walked through those entryways, all of the alien powers that are showcased so cavalierly in the sanctity of their own homes. Michael’s got his bunker beneath the Airstream, for crying out loud! So many secrets. So many possibilities for discovery. And if Project Shepherd knows the truth, it’s only a matter of time before Michael and his siblings are dragged off to another off-books facility to suffer the same fate as the people they’d watched die at Caulfield.

Fuck.

If the surveillance was the worst of it, Alex could have dealt with it. Deleting the photos and video is the work of a moment, and he knows that his brothers -- who have to be heading things up in Jesse’s absence -- don’t have the skills to protect anything online from him. It’s a pain, and he’ll have to keep checking to be certain that new cameras haven’t been positioned, but overall, the situation would be manageable. He could control the intel received, could make sure there was never enough solid evidence to move against Michael or the twins.

But Alex has no power over the half-drawn schematics of the weapon he’s staring at now.

At least, that’s what he thinks he’s looking at -- he’s no engineer, and the scribbles on the scanned paper may as well be written in Mandarin, for all Alex knows. But the info dump says it’s alien tech of some sort, geared toward taking out their own kind -- and Alex knows, immediately, that he cannot risk his brothers or any military personnel gaining access to it. Not when Alex’s world still at least half-revolves around Michael Guerin, despite their newly minted status as friends. Not when Max and Isobel have somehow become part of his family, too, through his determination to keep Michael in his life and help bring Max back from the dead. Not when Liz and Rosa and Kyle could lose everything, if all of this were brought to light by the wrong people.

“What do we do with this?” Kyle asks finally, breaking the tense silence in the bunker. It’s been at least twenty minutes of staring, horror-struck at the screen, and Alex is no closer to an answer than he was when they started. “We have to warn them. There’s no way whoever’s running the show --”

“Flint,” Alex interrupts, his voice hard. “It has to be Flint. And probably the others, too. Dad always drags Charlie along with him on whatever he’s doing, and Hunter’s never too far behind.” Alex’s comment to Flint about mindlessly following the flock is accurate for all of his brothers. With the occasional exception of Charlie, who Alex knows tried to be a better brother to him for a while, they’re all soldiers, highly decorated and respected in their fields -- but none of them have ever been willing to go against their father.

Kyle’s lips thin, but he nods agreement. “Fine. There’s no way Flint knows about all this and isn’t planning a move, Alex. We’ve gotta get them all out of town. And probably ourselves, too. If they manage to develop this weapon --”

“We’re not running,” Alex snaps, punching the power control on the monitors so that the screens go dark. He spins his chair to look at Valenti, and knows that the expression on his face is far from reassuring -- he’s simultaneously panicking and furious, and he can’t contain it all within himself without just a little spilling over into his features.

Because slowly, an idea is forming in the back of his head. No one is going to like it -- God knows Alex doesn’t, but it’s the only way out of this fucking mess that Alex can see, and he’s desperate enough to protect Guerin and the others that he’s willing to take the risk.

“Alex, I don’t think we have a choice,” Valenti tells him firmly, and Alex’s eyes aren’t the ones that are wide and full to the brim with a frantic need to move, to do something. He starts to pace around Alex’s chair as he speaks, picking up speed with every word and step until it’s hard for Alex to understand. “Even if I was okay with the idea of your dickhead family marching in and kidnapping Evans and the others, I’m the one who put your dad in that coma. How long do you think it’ll take them to connect those dots? They’ll find him. They’ll wake him up, and it won’t just be the aliens they’re after anymore.”

There’s a moment of tense silence as Alex levers himself out of the computer chair and takes a few steps, working the stiffness from sitting too long out of his bad leg. “We’re not running,” he repeats, and this time, his voice is full of purpose. “I have an idea. It’s -- awful, but it’s the only way we’re going to be able to live out our lives without constantly looking over our shoulders.” Alex straightens his spine and stands at his full height, regarding Kyle solemnly and making it as clear as he can that he’s not going to hear any arguments.

“I’m going to infiltrate Project Shepherd, and we’re going to bring them down.”

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

I know Brian is the least likely to have dyscalculia, but he’s the one I find the easiest to write, so here goes..

Brian shuffled with his sheets. Music spread sheets. How can something he loves so much - music - contain something he hates even more - reading sheets?

Or, he doesn’t hate it. But how could he possibly love something that makes him want to run away and hide whenever he sees it?

Brian knows he’s not stupid. Far from it. So why does he struggle so in his field of dreams? The music is heavenly.

The sheets?

The sheets are what thorns are to roses. A small bit, risking the full enjoyment of the bigger picture.

A rose’s thorn.

A thorn in his side.

Those scribbles on the scrunched up paper somehow made their way from unintelligible symbols to magnificent music. And Brian couldn’t for the life of him figure out how.

Freddie read a note and altered his tone of singing.

John fiddled with the bass and wrote down when something sounded good. If it sounded good, then it sounded good. Why the need for cryptid code, Brian asked himself.

Roger tried out his cymbals. They seemed to work. Always did.

Luckily, Brian had a high musical intelligence. He could play along by ear. Matching the rhythm section’s sounds and vibes to his own guitar.

And that way he wouldn’t have to come clean and tell them he never learned how to read music sheets.

He had tried. Good Lord, he’d tried. Night after night. Almost in tears at the end, before he gave up and just playing it by ear. Music sheets weren’t worth it. They weren’t worth the damage they did to his overall enjoyment and satisfaction of their songs. So he couldn’t read them. He could do a lot of other things!

A musician who can’t read musical notes may have yet to be heard of. But here he was! Brian Harold May. A competent guitarist no matter what.

Wouldn’t it have been grand to be able to think like that? Just once?

But Brian didn’t. In true fashion to himself, he put himself down daily, endless rants going through his head.

‘Pathetic! They’re gonna find out soon! You can’t keep living a lie. You’re not a worthy guitarist. They’re gonna find someone else. Stupid! Dumb!’ And so on. And so on.

“Right, Bri?” Quiet. Brian wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, in the most concealed manner possible. He looked in the direction of the voice. He thinks it was Roger. Wasn’t it?

“Hm?”

“Brian? Are- are you alright?”

Brian clenched his hand. Unknowingly, but fittingly, he was still holding the papers. They scrunched up further making the notes unreadable. Even more so, to Brian.

He stood up and hurried out the door. Three voices simultaneously shouted his name.

Footsteps in the hollow corridor. Two pairs.

Roger made it to Brian’s side. He huffed from having to keep up with the pace of Brian’s walking.

“Brian, please?”

No answer, just quicker steps.

“Do you want to be alone right now? Or am I doing the right thing in following you around until you calm down?” Leave it to Roger to be this explicit.

Without warning Brian stopped. His hands were shaking. Roger took them in his own to settle the quivering down.

“It’s over. I can’t hide it.”

Roger wanted to ask what he was talking about. Hiding what? Yes, they were best friends, but that didn’t mean they swore to tell the other one everything.

Charming as it was, they weren’t ten-year-old kids giving eachother friendship bracelets. They were grown people.

“If you don’t want to tell us - or me - then I won’t force you, Bri.”

“I can’t freaking read!” Brian blurted.

“You can’t-?”

“I can read, Roger, but I can’t read … those.” He unfolded the paper. He didn’t know he was still carrying them around.

“Music sheets?”

Brian took a deep breath. Roger held up his hand, signaling that it was okay for him not to go into detail.

“But so what? You can still play.”

“I’m a fraud.”

“Please, stop yourself, man. I can’t think of a better guitarist than you! How you managed all these years, I haven’t the faintest idea. But you did.”

“Who’s ever heard of a tone-deaf musician?”

“I don’t think you’re tone-deaf.”

“I must be something! I just can’t seem to wrap my head around those … scribbles!”

Roger let go of Brian’s hands.

“Stupid.”

“You might be a lot of things, Brian, but one thing you’re not is stupid. How can you even think that?”

“How can you not think that?”

“Because I know what you can do! Anything! Imagine having such skill that you can play several songs and write them yourself, without using notes. I never thought anything of it, that you always let Freddie, Deaky and me do the writing. I just assumed that’s how bands work. How friends work.”

Brian bit his lip. He knew Roger was right. Bit he had a harder time actually believing him.

Roger placed his hand on Brian’s back. “Come on back to the studio”, he said.

When recording was almost done, Roger strutted towards Brian.

That’s where he is, Brian thought. He hadn’t heard any drum sounds the last thirty minutes.

“Read this”, was all he said before hand Brian his phone.

Brian read the first line. “Dyscalculia?”

[bevioletskies]

let’s stay together

summary: For all his missteps and mishaps, Scott has been on pretty good terms with the Pym-Van Dyne family lately. That is, until Cassie started calling Hank "Grandpa".

a/n: Fic title is from the song Let's Stay Together by Al Green because I've yet to figure out how to title Scott/Hope fics. Takes place post-Ant-Man and the Wasp, with the optimistic assumption that they at least had a month to relax before that post-credits scene.

word count: 3.9k | ao3

The first time it happened, Scott was reasonably certain that the universe had momentarily ceased to exist, or at least, that’s what it felt like. All the air had been sucked out of the room, everything went mind-numbingly silent, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Hank turning an alarmingly violent shade of red. Well, THAT can’t be good, he thought.

“Oh!” Janet finally said after a minute too long. Hank was now purple.

So, Scott did what any reasonable person would do (that’s what he told himself, anyway) and promptly stood, hauled his daughter up by the armpits before she could finish her bite of mashed potatoes, and practically carried her to the front door. “This-was-great-we-should-really-do-this-again-sometime-okay-bye!” he blurted out, tripping over his own feet in his attempt to pull on his shoes and jacket at the same time.

“Scott?” Hope was half-skeptical, half-concerned, as she often was when it came to Scott’s...Scott-ness, but before she could get up and follow him, the door slammed shut. She glanced over at Hank; his knuckles were white. “...did Cassie just call you ‘grandpa’?”

“Don’t,” Hank grouched. The color in his face was slowly returning to normal, but he was still clutching his steak knife with a worryingly vice-like grip. Janet patted his hand consolingly before resuming her dinner like nothing had happened.

Hope texted Scott the moment dinner was over, reassuring him that it wasn’t as bad as he thought - Hank had only ranted for three minutes about being anyone’s grandfather, then Janet interrupted to remind him of his age - but Scott’s reply was an uncharacteristically curt response about arriving late at the laboratory tomorrow morning. It was only because of Hope’s good memory that she remembered that it was because Maggie and Paxton were picking up Cassie from Scott’s place, and not that Scott decided to preemptively berate himself at home before joining them to work on the latest iteration of suits.

Janet, who was still getting used to an adult daughter and not the child she’d unintentionally left behind, hovered in worry, fretting over Hope’s shoulder at Scott’s message. “Seriously, Mom, it’s okay,” Hope repeated for the fifth time while she put her jacket on, preparing to leave for the night. “I’m not seven or sixteen, remember? Nothing to worry about. Scott’s just a little...excitable.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Hank grumbled from the sitting room. Despite her best efforts, Hope couldn’t help but roll her eyes like a child.

“Bye, Dad,” she called, kissing Janet briefly on the cheek before walking out the door.

The next morning, Scott arrived even later than he said he was going to be, looking just as agitated as he’d sounded last night. “Hope, I swear, I didn’t say anything about - ”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she said calmly. “Besides, he’s probably forgotten all about it.”

“I haven’t.” Hank emerged from behind one of the enormous machines, startling Scott. “Did you - ”

“Nope!” Scott said a little too quickly. “Hank, I would never - ”

“Does she call her anything?” Hank wildly brandished his pen in Hope’s direction. She fixed him with a stern expression in return, plucking the pen from his hand and neatly tucking it into the breast pocket of his sweater vest.

“Henry,” Janet called from across the room.

“I already told you she doesn’t,” Hope said exasperatedly. “Can we focus, please?”

“Grandpa,” Hank muttered under his breath as he returned to his workbench, where Janet gave him a playful poke for his troubles.

“For the record, I think Mom was secretly thrilled,” Hope whispered to Scott. He snickered in relief.

After the day’s work was done, Scott and Hope said their goodbyes to a cheerful Janet and a temperamental Hank (though really, when were either of them anything else) and got into Hope’s car, promptly shrinking down to a more...elusive size. It was a new routine for them after Scott had completed the terms of his house arrest, and although there was still a search out for Hope and her parents, it wasn’t too difficult for them to evade the authorities now that they had everything and every one in one place. Scott spent his weekdays working at X-Con Security and Pym Tech, while he and Hope, sometimes Cassie, spent their weekends at his place. Hope had grown quite attached to Scott’s house, finding it far more inviting than her own apartment, and of course, she’d adored Cassie the moment they met. After everything she and her father had been through ever since the Sokovia Accords had come into play, it was nice to have some normalcy in her life.

Scott drummed his fingers restlessly against the window. “Where do you think this whole ‘grandpa’ thing started?”

Hope groaned. “I thought we were going to drop this, Scott. Besides, you and Cassie have been coming to dinner for several weeks now and Dad’s the right age to be her grandpa, so it just...came out. Not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, but what if it means something?” Hope’s eyes briefly flickered over to his unusually serious expression. “Hank’s never been a big fan of...us.”

“Then it’s good that what he thinks has no impact on our relationship,” Hope said testily, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. Scott winced in memory of how angry she’d been when they first met, often at Scott himself for being in her life, but mostly at Hank for everything he’d done - or rather, hadn’t done. “He kept me out of his life long enough. Just because we’re back to being a family, it doesn’t give him the right to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Of course,” he said automatically. He suddenly looked very interested in the loose thread on his jacket sleeve, picking at it with a strange fixation. “Look, I just don’t wanna be the reason you guys fight again, alright? And if he doesn’t want me to be part of your family - ”

“Oh, Scott.” Hope briefly let go of the wheel to squeeze his shoulder in reassurance. “Dad’s got his hangups about you, but you know him, he’s like that with everyone. Doesn’t mean he wants to cut you out. Besides, Mom adores you, and there’s no way he’ll go against her.”

Scott laughed despite himself, his shoulders finally relaxing as he settled back into his seat. “Your mom’s great. Perceptive, too. It’s almost like she can see inside my head - ”

“That joke was only funny the first time,” Hope interrupted, though there was a smile in her voice as she said it. “Please stop telling people my mom was inside you without context.”

Another week went by - a relatively uneventful one at that, all things considered, in which the only mishap they encountered was a couple of random thieves that tried to break into the lab and received an unpleasant surprise in return for their efforts - before Cassie was at Scott’s house again. On the first morning of her return, she was chatting a mile per minute about her most recent soccer game, the last math test she’d had, and anything else that came to mind. “How come Hope isn’t here?” Cassie asked once she’d taken a second to breathe between her bites of cereal.

“She doesn’t live here, peanut,” Scott reminded her, absent-mindedly thumbing through the newspaper.

“But why not? She stays over all the time, and she drives you places, and - ”

“That doesn’t mean she has to live here,” Scott pointed out. He then sighed in realization, knowing they had to talk about it eventually, and now was as good a time as ever. “Hey, when you called Hank ‘Grandpa’...did you mean to do that?”

“Yes,” Cassie said bluntly. “Hope is kind of like my second mom, so her daddy is kind of like my grandpa.”

“Okay, well, I think you scared him a little,” Scott said gently. “I’m sure Hope loves the idea of being your second mom, but it’s making Hank feel like me and her are getting really serious.”

“Serious?” Cassie furrowed her brow in adorable confusion.

“Like we’re gonna get married.” Scott sat up straight as if he just realized what he’d said. “Which is...I mean, you know...wow.”

“But don’t you wanna marry her, Daddy?” Cassie prompted, in the sort of tone she used when she asked him to help with her science homework, like it was just another topic of conversation. “She’s your partner.”

“That’s not - I - oh.” Scott rubbed his temples, willing the conversation to go away on its own. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea; in fact, the very idea of marrying Hope was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying and very much something he’d like to do. But it was far too early in the morning to be processing anything more complex than the latest episode of Cassie’s favorite morning cartoon. “Finish your breakfast, okay? We gotta head out soon.”

It was only when the two of them got in Scott’s car - a relatively new investment for him, though it was about as rundown as Luis’s van - that he remembered they were picking up Hope on the way to Cassie’s school. Usually, he enjoyed the ten minutes they had together, where he could just sit back and listen to two of his favorite people in the world chat and laugh like they’d known each other forever, but now he was rather paranoid that Cassie was going to do...something.

“Hey, you two,” Hope smiled, radiant, as she got into the passenger’s seat, leaning across to briefly kiss him. “You’re early today.”

“Daddy wanted to finish breakfast super fast,” Cassie shrugged, grinning toothily. “I think he was excited to see you.”

“Is that so?” Hope quirked an eyebrow in his direction before putting her seatbelt on. “Well, better early than late, right?”

“Right,” Cassie chirped. Scott started the engine, crossing his fingers that she wouldn’t bring it up - “Daddy thinks your daddy is scared of him.” - and there she went. Fantastic.

“What?” Hope rounded on him instantly. “Scott.”

“Listen...sometimes, we say things that - ”

“Scott,” Hope repeated. It amazed him that she was capable of saying his name so affectionately some of the time and so authoritatively, well, most of the time.

“Cassie,” Scott said firmly, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Daddy,” Cassie said plaintively, blinking innocently in return. When that didn’t work, she added, “I don’t want anyone to be scared of anyone,” her bottom lip wobbling in the way that they all knew would change anyone’s mind no matter what.

“I didn’t say Hank was scared of me,” Scott finally explained with a sigh, briefly glancing over at an unimpressed Hope. “It’s just what I was saying before. About him and our relationship.”

“Of course you didn’t let this go,” Hope groaned, turning to face the window. “When it was just me and Dad on the run, he had a lot to say about you. But he never said anything about us.” She turned to look at Cassie, whose nose was scrunched up in worry. “No one’s scared of anyone, alright?”

“So...he doesn’t think Daddy’s gonna ask you to marry him?” Cassie asked. Scott felt the gas pedal slip underneath his feet, nearly flinging them all forward in the process. For the second time that week, he felt his chest seize up with one single word blaring through his head like a siren - PANIC.

“What,” Hope said flatly.

“Hey, hey, no distracting the driver,” he said weakly. “Besides, didn’t we say we were gonna talk about the regulator in my suit before we get to the lab, something about the whatchamacallit - ”

“Were you going to ask me to marry you?”

“No, I - ”

“So you don’t want to marry me.”

Scott paused. “Hope, I gotta be honest, I don’t really know what the right answer is.”

Hope merely shook her head, jaw clenched tight, staring straight ahead. “Just drive, Scott.”

Cassie looked at Scott in silent apology once they dropped her off, hugging Hope as she always did before running up the steps to the front door. The rest of the car ride was expectedly uncomfortable, lacking a single word out of either of them. Upon arriving at the laboratory, Hope continued on like nothing was wrong, hanging up her coat and setting down her bag, briefly hugging Hank and Janet with a warm smile. She then settled down at one of the workbenches and promptly got to work on her faulty blasters, her back pointedly turned on everything else.

Scott meandered around for a bit, picking at the wires in his suit’s regulator (“You’ve got some nerve calling this a working suit, Hank!” he’d said pretty much every single day since he first put it on) but entirely unable to concentrate. All he could think about was how he’d managed to mess things up with Hope, again, and he didn’t even have to get arrested this time for it to happen.

“Don’t you look all bothered?” He looked up to see Janet smiling pityingly at him from the other side of his table. “What’s troubling you, Scott?”

“Didn’t sleep great,” he lied. Janet quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s cute how you think you can lie to me,” she said not unkindly, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Is it about the whole ‘grandpa’ thing? Because I can’t tell who’s more hung up about it, you or Henry!”

“I’m embarrassed she said it in the first place,” he admitted, setting his tools down. “Cassie loves being around you guys, and I guess I should’ve seen it coming.”

“It’s okay,” Janet said, squeezing his arm. “Personally, I’d love it if Cassie thought of us as her grandparents, she’s one of the loveliest kids I’ve ever met. Reminds me a lot of Hope...before I left her.” Her smile faltered somewhat. “Is it you and Hope, then?”

“You could say that,” Scott said carefully. He glanced across the room to where she was sitting. She hadn’t looked at him since they got out of the car.

“It’s one day at a time with that one, isn’t it?” Janet hummed, briefly turning on her heel to look at her daughter, too. “Always have to remind myself she’s so much...more now. All the things she wants, all the things she is, I have to get used to that.” She turned back to look at Scott knowingly. “That goes for you, too.”

“I’m gonna fix it, Janet,” he promised. “And...please don’t tell Hank.”

Janet laughed throatily, though Scott wasn’t sure what was so funny. “Oh, honey, what makes you think he didn’t already notice?”

Hank, meanwhile, sidled up to Hope’s side in a way that he thought was subtle enough, but she merely gave him a look that said, “I know exactly what you’re doing, and I don’t like it”. “What?” he barked, embarrassed. “I wanted to check your progress on the - ”

“Dad,” Hope said firmly. “Just spit it out, okay?”

“You’ve been tense,” he observed, pulling up a stool so he could sit beside her. “I wanna know why.”

“Because it’s affecting our work?” she snorted, turning back to her blasters.

“Because you’re my daughter.” Her hands paused in mid-air. “I don’t give a damn about the work right now. You’ve been all wound up lately, and it’s affecting you. So what is it?”

Hope couldn’t help but smile at her dad’s usual gruff tone, how it completely failed to hide his concern. “It just...feels like we’re in between everything right now. We’re sort of on the run but we sort of aren’t, we have Mom back but we’re trying to figure out how to be a family again, not to mention you and Scott being weird about what Cassie said even though we’re all growing closer...I’m a little stressed out, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I promise.”

Hank smiled ruefully. “Someday, those Sokovia Accords are going to be through, and we’ll be free. Respected. And me and your mother, we’re going to make sure you don’t have a single thing to worry about. I’m sure Scott’s on board, too.”

“Surprised to hear you say that,” she admitted. “You really need to stop antagonizing him, okay? I’ve forgiven him for Germany, and I think it’s time you did, too.”

“I thought I already did,” he said, briefly looking to where Scott and Janet were conversing. Janet seemed to be laughing at something that Scott couldn’t quite follow; the very idea that she knew something he didn’t amused Hank greatly. “What, you think I’m working with him and inviting him and his daughter to our house every week because I’m angry ?”

“It’s hard to tell with you sometimes,” she shot back without missing a beat, though her grin was widening regardless. “Be nice, Dad.”

“I’ll...try to say something at our next dinner,” he said through gritted teeth as if the thought of expressing any emotion other than mild annoyance toward Scott was inherently painful. “But I mean it, Hope. Once this Accord nonsense is all over, we’ll get my company back on track, and we’ll be a family. All of us.”

Hope nodded, her eyes shining, and reached out to squeeze her father’s shoulder. “And I won’t vote you out of our company this time.”

Hank chuckled, briefly leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. “That’s my girl.”

Scott and Hope got into Scott’s car several hours later, both still somewhat tense. The rest of their time at the lab had been quiet, with Hank and Janet doing most of the talking. Both of them clearly suspected that there was more to it than they’d discussed, but wisely decided to let it be. Or rather, Janet had caught Hank by the arm every single time he seemed like he was about to open his mouth. “We have to remember she’s an adult, Henry,” she had murmured. “I know we both want her to need our help, but she doesn’t. Not this time.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said the moment they were on the road.

“You’ve been apologizing a lot lately,” Hope sighed. “What is it for this time?”

“Freaking out, not letting stuff go, and everything that Cassie said this morning,” he replied like a child reciting the alphabet, listing his fingers off on one hand, the other drumming restlessly against the steering wheel. “I almost got over it, you know? But then when we were having breakfast this morning, Cassie said all this stuff about living together, getting married...I started overthinking it.”

She nodded, sinking back into her seat. Her anger had mostly dissipated over the course of the day, evolving into something more akin to contemplation. “I know you, Scott,” she said quietly. “Maybe we haven’t known each other for as long as we think, but I know you. And you know me. You know that I’m not going to sit around waiting for you to tell me or ask me anything. So just...get to the point, and we can move on. For good.”

Scott inhaled, then let out a short huff of an exhale, his fingers still drumming on the steering wheel, though quieter now. “You’re my partner, Hope. In more ways than one. And I...do wanna marry you someday, just not yet. It’s early, and there’s too much going on, and it feels like - ”

“ - like we’re in between?” Hope guessed, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, exactly.” He looked away for a moment to return the smile, his eyes twinkling in the way that made her feel just a little bit more at ease about everything. “So why don’t we get to the ‘in between’ first?”

She paused. “What do you mean?”

“Move in with me. Or, I guess we could get a different place together if you want more space, though I dunno if I can afford a house as big as your parents’, but maybe you could, and - ”

“Okay,” she said, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning as giddily as she felt. “And for the record, I meant it when I said I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to ask.” She paused, letting the smile spread across her face despite herself. “Maybe someday, I’ll ask instead.”

Hank and Janet arrived at the laboratory at precisely nine in the morning, chatting quietly in the elevator ride up to their floor. They hung up their jackets, changed them out for their lab coats and protective equipment, and Hank went about telling his ants their orders for the day. Janet, on the other hand, went to log in on the main computer, only to find someone was already in her seat.

“Hi Grandma,” Cassie said, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

Not missing a beat, Janet immediately drew her into a hug, then leaned back to tuck Cassie’s hair behind her ears. “Hey, sweetheart! Never seen you in here before,” she fussed, beaming. “You looking for a science lesson today?”

“Yes, please,” Cassie chorused. “But first, Daddy and Hope wanted to tell you something.”

Janet turned to see Scott and Hope approaching from the other room, looking somewhat sheepish. Instinctively, her eyes flickered to Hope’s stomach, though her daughter’s immediate visceral response told her she was incorrect. Hank then came over to join them, letting out a stifled grunt when Cassie went to hug him as well, though he patted her on the back in return. “What’s this all about?” he asked.

“I’m moving in with Scott,” Hope announced matter-of-factly, holding up a copy of his house keys. “I’ve had it with hiding in my own apartment, what with technically being on the run and all, so this just made sense.”

“Glad I’m the most logical choice,” Scott drawled, nodding her way. “So Hank, Janet...what do you guys think?”

“Oh, we think it’s wonderful! Don’t we, Henry?” Janet exclaimed, briefly turning to narrow her eyes at her husband before clapping her hands together in excitement. “My precious jellybean - ” She swept Hope and Scott into her arms, letting out an overwhelmed sob of elation into her daughter’s shoulder. Hank, whose jaw was clenched but was also not one to be left behind, walked over to awkwardly clap his hand on Scott’s shoulder; Cassie followed, nestling herself in under everyone’s arms.

“Didn’t realize we were gonna have a group hug today.” Still, Scott tried his best to get his arms around everyone, even Hank, who merely squirmed. “If I’d known, I would’ve remembered deodorant - ”

“Scott, I swear to god - ”

“Obviously I’m wearing deodorant, Hank, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” Hope sighed, withdrawing herself from the mass of bodies. “So Cassie, you ready for my parents to show you the ropes?” She nodded, looking unusually shy, staring up at both Hank and Janet expectantly.

To everyone’s surprise, it was Hank who reached for her first, gently taking her by the shoulder and guiding her over to his workbench. “Let’s set you up with some protective gear. There’ll be no accidents in my lab today.”

“Yes, Doctor Pym,” Cassie said obediently, hoisting herself up onto the bench stool. Hank paused, turning to look at her, to really look at her. Cassie’s eyes were bright, wide, inquisitive, her posture both anticipatory and patient. He looked over at the others, where Janet was standing between Hope and Scott, her hand over her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her pleased smile. Hope’s eyes shone back at him; he barely noticed her fingers intertwined with Scott’s.

Hank turned back to Cassie. “You know what? ‘Grandpa’ is okay, too.”

a/n: I have been talking about writing this fic for at least six months now and I'm sure some far better version of it exists elsewhere, but I finally finished! Still figuring out my characterization of these lovely characters, so bear with me if anything seems particularly OOC, and I'm looking forward to writing even more Scott/Hope in the future and getting better at doing so. Thanks so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)