#this was supposed to be done SO long ago but MAN perspective is hard

[existingonthisplane]

What’s a better way to celebrate the last day of black history month than with another Lucas and Erica drawing. I really wanted to make sure I got this done by today!!

Tried my hand at perspective,,,

[raineydays411]

My Fathers Daughter pt 10

A different perspective

Dick Grayson has always been used to being the first.

He was the first Robin, the first son, the first to be picked for almost anything.

Hell he was the first child as far as he knew. So imagine his surprise when he finds out his mother not only has a whole secret daughter, but one that she completely abandoned.

He could still hardly believe it.

He couldn't stop thinking about the night they found out about her. The look on Christine's face, it was one he's never seen before. The look of shock and almost disbelief, like she had seen a ghost.

In a way she did.

The ghost of the life she left behind with Tony and Y/n Stark. Now Christine was trying so desperately to revive it. As if she didn't murder it with her own hands. And while Dick himself had reservations with these actions, Christine was his mother before anything, and he was going to help her no matter what.

So here he was, standing outside the bedroom of his mothers long lost daughter, trying to figure out something to say. It shouldn't be too hard, seeing as Jason of all people managed to get you to open up.

And yet, here he is. Unable to muster up the courage to simply knock on the door.

"This is fucking ridiculous", Dick thinks to himself, "Just knock, what's the worst that can happen?"

Lost in his own thoughts, Dick didn't notice the shadow under the door, and was startled by the sudden swing of it opening and you standing there.

"I can hear your thinking over my music." You said a little annoyed," Is there something I can do for you or...?"

Dick blinked trying to gather all of his thoughts, he really didn't know what to say to you. This is the first time you've said more than three syllables to him.

You stared back, face revealing how uncomfortable you were getting with this prolonged eye contact.

"Riiiight, so im just gonna" You say taking steps to shut the door in his face

"Wait!" The raven haired man shouts, "Wait, please."

You stop with a sigh and open the door, inviting him in, " Alright, come on."

Dick walks in, looking around at the room that actually used to be his when he first moved in.

He mentions as much trying to break the awkward silence.

"Hm, and you were okay staying in a room that was copied from a dracula movie?" You say snarkily

"Well to be fair I was 12 and watched my parents die in front of me, I wasn't really looking at the decor." He says half joking.

You made a face and looked away, feeling even more awkward.

"Anyways, I just wanted to you know...see how you were settling in" Dick starts, " Its been a few months and it feels like we hardly even see you."

You pause, thinking of what to say. But before you even have a chance to say anything Dick continues.

"You know, moms really excited that you're here." He starts, " Honestly I don't think I've ever seen her this excited over anything. She's usually very level headed."

You stare at him

"I mean, you know how she is I suppose she is your mother too."

You stare

"I know she probably really missed you, she gets lonely sometimes you know? Everyone here usually has their own thing going on and we don't really get to see her as much."

Nothing from you

" Well, I guess she see's Damian more than any of us but that's because he's basically her baby."

Okay...that hurt

"I mean, I think he was the youngest when he came to use, I think he was like nine or something. And he was not the easiest to get along with. So don't worry that he hasn't warmed up to you yet."

You hum, already irritated with this conversation.

"He's also really protective of our mom, she's done alot to make sure their relationship is as good as it is." he says offhandedly, " Actually she's done it for all of us."

"Oh really?" You ask with no real intrest.

"Yeah! I remember one time when I was little she always made it a point to spend time with me even though she was so busy." He says fondly.

You decide to play along and remince on the memories that you buried long ago.

"You know, when I was younger, Christine used to take me out of school and take me to see ballet shows." You say with a slight smile, " I was in classes back then and loved watching the older girls dance."

Dick smiled, feeling as if he made some progress with you, " Really? I think she actually takes Cassie and Steph to those sometimes, you should ask to tag along I'm sure she'll love it."

You cringe, feeling another needle in your heart. Not even your memerioes were sacred.

"Yeah no thanks." You reply harshly, " I don't like ballet anymore."

Dick pauses, shocked at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"I--"

And before he can say anything you cut him off, feigning a yawn

"Hey look, not that I don't love our little chats, but I am beat."

"Oh! right, sorry I guess it is getting a bit late.."Dick say hopping up from your bed and walking to the door, " Y/n, you know its really nice talking to you. You should try and open up more."

You smile sarcastically, " you know, something you and mother have in common is that you both like talking at me, not to me."

And with that you shut the door, promptly ending the conversation and sending Dick spiraling.

In fact, the statement bothered him so much that he went seeking a second opinion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yeah... I don't know how to help you man."

"Oh come on! Jason, you and her are like...bosom buddies or something."

"Bosom buddies? How old are you?" Jason scoffs, " Look, what you and everyone here doesn't understand is that Y/n has a family waiting for her. She's not going to except mom as her mom because her mom is still alive and well."

"But...technically our mom is her mom." Dick says hesitantly, " And if I were her I'd be thrilled to have my mom back."

"Dick. Your mom didn't abandon you for a different family." Jason says annoyed he's not getting it, "What the hell is wrong with you, you're usually so level headed about this stuff?"

Dick pauses.

To be honest he doesn't know why he's being so hard headed about the whole situation.

He knows that he doesn't like seeing his mother sad, and lately seeing her face when you reject every move she maked to make amends is heartbreaking to him.

That was his mother. The woman who took him in as her own when his biological parents died.

The same woman that stayed by his side no matter how moody, rude, and bratty he first acted when he first arrived. She took his grief on as her own and basically put him back together along with Bruce. He can still remember the night he considered her his mother.

He had just started out as Robin, and had just got back from patrol. It was a rough night.

First, it was the middle of autumn and raining heavily, he and Bruce weren't getting along this particular night and he overall was just having a bad night. So needless to day he was a little rougher with the baddies he was fighting tonight.

Bruce had already reprimanded him throughout the night about his unnecessary force but Dick did not want to hear it. It got so bad that Dick was just going off own his own without Batmans orders, and thats where the trouble began.

Dick had jumped the gun again, throwing himself into a fight with some drug dealers , not realizing that there were one too many for a fourteen year old to handle by himself. They quickly overpowered him, and ganged up on the poor boy.

He was given quite the beating before Batman caught up to him and basically saved him.

In pain and with a bruised ego, he had to listen to yet another lecture from the irritated (actually extremely worried) dark knight, and one from Alfred who was also extremely worried while he cleaned up the child.

He has finally marched to his room in a huff and after he shut the door, was finally able to reveal in the fact that he almost died. He was lost in thought, finally feeling the fear and pain in every move he made as he tried to crawl under the covers when he heard a knock on the door.

In she came, with a tray of goodies she personally made,staying home from a business trip he had known she was going to go on. She crawled into the bed with him, held him to her chest and allowed him to cry.

"You may be a big brave superhero" She said to him, " But here in this home, you're my son. My baby, and you are allowed to cry if you need to. I won't judge you. I won't say a word."

And he did. He cried.

He cried because he was hurting. He cried because he was angry. Angry because he was beat up. Because he was lectured all night. Because he missed his parents.

But most of all, because he felt as if he was forgetting them. He was having such a good time at the Wayne manor, grew to love the Waynes as the parents they intended to be to him. He felt as if he was betraying his parents. The parents that had raised him up to that point.

And here he was, laying cuddled up to Christine the same way he would with his mother. But at this point the two of them are blurring together, to the point where he can't tell where his mother ends and Christine starts.

This woman, took him in and wrapped him in love.

Love that he thought he would never feel again after that tragic night.

A love that, he honestly cannot imagine never having.

It was something that he couldn't begin to repay her. He wouldn't know how. Where to start.

Rekindling his mother with the daughter she lost. Gave up.

That was the least he could do. He'd do it for her.

But, after the conversation he had with Jason, he went home and thought about it. Actually really thought about it.

The year he came into the Wayne's lives, Christine stopped going on her business trips.

Not all at once, but she would push them back.

Usually because Dick had needed her.

She pushed her trips back until eventually, she just stopped going.

She hadn't said much, just saying that she realized that she was needed at home more than they needed her over there. But even at that age, Dick noticed she was sad. She kept her composure around the family, but once Dick had seen her crying in a pantry deleting something off her phone.

He had thought it was weird but after a few months she was okay.

No crying, no sadness.

And... now that he thinks about it. While he was being wrapped up in love there was another child in New York, who's life was being completely unraveled. All because of him.

And maybe...the reason he was trying so hard to rekindle you and Christine wasn't really because of Christine.

But because since that night, the night you were revealed to be her daughter, he did the math. And he just wanted to give you back the mother he unknowingly stole away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Taglist:

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[theroyalthrones]

BEHIND THE SCENES | Chantilly, Picardy, Lavande

beginning | previous | next

"Aubrey Faye Stuart grew up in a tiny world, in an even tinier town. Her parents, as normal as you can get, adhered to the ideology of staying within one's means. This upbringing left Aubrey with a small perspective, limited dreams, and a repressed personality. All of these qualities were perfect for a guy like Laurie — a man who didn’t really need the girl, just the face. From the outside, no one knew what Laurie could want in such a plain girl; his motives were never clear. The two didn’t fit very well on paper but got along fairly well. And to Aubrey, what others might perceive as just 'okay,' she regarded as exceptional. In her eyes, Laurie was the love of her life, and she his."

transcript below↓↓

Laurie] Mother’s given her permission. ...you’re to attend engagements with me, be seen with me offically.

AUBREY lifts her head, offended.

Aubrey]sarcarstically How generous.

Laurie] annoyed You're the only one benefiting from this.

Aubrey] scoffs

Laurie] I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to actually be thankful.

Aubrey] of course I’m grateful…

Laurie] Don’t be mad, maybe I can take you shopping.

Aubrey]…

Laurie] contemplative Black hair… and more eye makeup, It’ll make your eyes stand out more.

AUBREY touches her hair; confused, a bit sad.

Aubrey] My hair?

AUBREY in the shower, a shot of her feet in a puddle of black water (hair die)

AUBREY getting her makeup done

AUBREY putting shoes on

AUBREY in a chair, with people fussing over her. A shot from the back.

Laurie and Aubrey walking out of some establishment. Completely decked out in their new looks. He has even changed a bit, they are getting photographed from every direction

As the light bleeds into her sight, her unease slight loosens. To be on the other side of the Cameras is something that she never would have imagined for herself. People call his name, People call her name. She might be happy she thinks. How could she not? She looks beautiful, a concept she never thought she could grasp, and maybe never again. For once she likes all eyes on her.

Now she’s a room, a very pretty one. She’s on the phone with her mother. Aubrey is a commoner from Caledonia. She’s a long way from home.

THE SHOT comes in. Her face isnt shown until the end possibly. She’s on the floor painting her toenails while on the phone. Very girly I’d say.

Mom] Are you okay?

Aubrey]… Did you see me on tv?

Mom] You loved your hair, sweetpea.

Aubrey] I know…

Mom] You know you can come home?

Why you? You’re not made for this.

Aubrey] …He’s not like you imagine, mom.

They’ve finally make their relation public. And life is supposed the be good. But they aren’t really.

EXT. Toussaint Estate - Afternoon

A very idillic afternoon at the toussaint estate. The party is happening around the pool. People are swimming, people are having fun. [Aubrey Caroline ~~~~is capturing this on her old camera, the images look as if they are shot on film. She films Laurie and Giselle getting risky, and also Aubrey laying alone, with Az approaching her. And also a shot of her fiance in the pov of the camera. He’s close, moving the camera away laughing.]

Laurie and Giselle are being a fit to friendly, they are roughhousing around. And laurie films her with his camera. While laurie is almost shameless with his advances, it is Giselle who is trying to hold it out. She is visibly uncomfortable, trying (not extremely hard) not to get caught.

As they so shameless project their feelings, Aubrey watches it all from the vantage point of her pool chair.

She already does not feel in her element, dressing in something way more revealing than she would have worn herself. Laurie has been dressing her as of late. She can’t say they’re ugly outfits, just not hers.

As she watches her boyfriend play with another girl (she doesn’t really know what to make of it, she’s got nothing to say),

Someone comes up behind her. It’s Azriel, a person she met a while ago, known to her as a best friend of Laurie.

Azriel] whispers So you’re not blind.

She looks over to him, a bit dumbfounded and suprised.

Aubrey] cautious I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Azriel] “Poor Aubrey…” That’s what they call you. You don’t know how to play the game, you’ll get eaten alive. you’ll get eaten alive here, if you don’t learn to play along.

Aubrey]…

Azriel] Do you love him?

Aubrey] offended Of course I love him! Az] chuckles Your first mistake.

Aubrey] He woul- He’d never betray me.

Azriel] You can’t even convince yourself. laughs mockingly.

He walks away, leaving her with more questions that she isn’t willing to have answered.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Holiday Arrangement

Andy Barber x Reader

Author's Note: I have not been even remotely good at getting back to all the love and engagement that this has received, both in the replies and reblogs, but its so appreciated and they've made writing and posting this fic so much more fun! Summary: When co-parenting during the holidays becomes difficult to navigate, Y/n brings a proposal to her ex-husband, Andy; spend Christmas together- for the sake of their daughter. Their already complicated arrangement becomes even more messy new memories dredge up buried feelings. Masterlists Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: When a trip to see Santa Claus at the mall goes awry, it puts things into perspective for Andy. Warnings- Angst

The next Monday With just three weeks until Christmas, school out and countless people already on vacation, the only mall in the heart of Newton was packed. It didn’t help that Santa was supposed to be there either. They’d done everything right; woken up at seven, left home at eight and had gotten to the mall by nine- before it was even open- and still, it had taken them more than an hour to get a parking spot. It would have appeared that everyone else had the same idea- get there early to beat the crowd. 

By the time they’d secured a spot, at least fifteen minutes away from the main entrance, Y/n could tell that Andy was a little miffed- he’d always been a little too impatient to deal with traffic. Though, despite his obvious irritation, he’d kept his cool, never wanting to show his frustration in front of their daughter, who’d been practically bouncing off walls since she’d awoken that morning. To say she was excited about seeing Santa would have been an incredible understatement. 

“Can we go see him now?” Were Grace’s first words the minute the trio set foot in the mall, and she looked almost comical as she jumped up and down excitedly while all bundled up in a black parka with forest animal drawings all about it and the faux-fur lined hood pulled over her dark head, almost entirely covering her face.

“We have to line up first,” Y/n explained, dropping to her knees in front of Grace so she could help her take off her purple gloves and unzip the coat to reveal her cute, warm but picture ready outfit underneath; her favorite blue sweater with a woolen owl stitched onto the front and thick leggings. “Then you can see Santa. Got it?”

“Got it!” Grace cheered, still brimming with enthusiasm. Upon standing, Andy took one of Grace’s hands while Y/n took the other, both of them leading her to the escalators that would take them to the upstairs atrium, where Santa was supposed to be. 

There was already a line when they got there, with about twenty other kids in front of Grace waiting their turn, and out of the corner of her eyes, Y/n noted the drop of defeat in Andy’s shoulders; each kid had been allotted ten minutes to tell Santa what they wanted and to take a couple pictures which meant that if every child used up their time to the very minute, they’d be looking at least a two hour and forty minute wait. For a man who’s patience was a little as Andrew Barber’s, that was two hours and twenty minutes too many. 

“You can walk around or go get coffee or something if the wait is too long,” Y/n offered after about fifteen minutes. 

“And miss taking a picture of my little bunny on Santa’s lap? No way,” he chuckled, tapping the pad of his pointer finger to Grace’s nose, making her giggle and grab at his hand. His words prompted a broad grin from Y/n that was hard to fight; a year ago, he wouldn’t have even joined them at the mall, especially if he knew he’d be standing in line for almost three hours so his sudden change of heart was a welcome surprise. She didn’t think Andy noticed the warmth that had gathered in her eyes at his simple profession, and not wanting to chance him seeing it, she turned away for a minute, fixing her gaze on a clothing store to her left.

After ten minutes had passed and they’d only moved one place ahead when Andy’s phone rang loudly, the sound rising above the Christmas carols wafting from the speakers fitted to the ceiling. Glancing at the screen, he grimaced before flashing Y/n and Grace an apologetic look. “Its my  boss. I’ll be five minutes- ten tops,” he promised,” letting Grace’s hand in favor of gesturing with his open palm. 

“Daddy,” Grace protested with a pout as he started stepping away. 

“I’ll be right back,” he offered again, swiping to answer the call, leaving them both standing in line as he started walking a little way up the pathway, probably in search of somewhere quiet to handle whatever his boss wanted him to.

Y/n knew that she shouldn’t have been upset, he’d been completely present up until then and it wasn’t like he could control when his boss called anyway, but she couldn’t help but feel like the phone call was just the beginng. Grace’s doe-eyed look of disappointment didn’t help either. “Daddy’s gonna be right back,” she gave her daughter’s hand a little squeeze. Grace didn’t respond, instead nodding stiffly before starting to pick at the hem of her sweater. 

Sighing as they took a step up when the rest of the line did, Y/n fixed her eyes on the direction that Andy had disappeared off to, practically willing him to reappear. The longer he took, the more she worried that the phone call wouldn’t be the end of interruption. She was so preoccupied with manifesting Andy’s reappearance that she hadn’t even noticed the person behind her trying to call her attention until they tapped her shoulder.

“Huh-oh my God,” she grinned upon turning slightly to see who it was. “Peter, hey.” They worked at different departments at the same company; she worked in finance while he was in accounting. Their paths crossed often though, and after word of her divorce had spread among her friends group at work, she had noticed Peter discreetly trying to get closer. He wasn’t very forward with his advances, and while Y/n did think he was sweet and attractive she was grateful for his restraint; she didn’t think she was ready to date yet anyway. 

“I didn’t know you had kids,” she glanced at the children he’d brought with him; a little boy about Grace’s age and a toddler on his hip. 

“I don’t,” he ducked his head bashfully, allowing a loose, dark curl to fall over his brow, “They’re my sister’s,” he lifted his head again, “This is Jack,” he introduced the boy, “And Mae. She had to work,” he began while Y/n reached out for the little girl’s hand “And their dad’s…..you know,” he shrugged indifferently and the look on his face was enough to tell her that the children’s after, for whatever reason, was out of the picture. 

“I see you’re here with my favorite coworker,” setting the younger girl down for a minute, Peter crouched so he could have a couple words with Grace, who he’d first met at their office’s ‘take your child to work day’ earlier that year, another time when he’d come over to fix the kitchen sink and finally a couple other times after he’d driven Y/n home when her car was down- it went without saying that he and Grace were pretty acquainted. 

“So,” he leaned in conspiringly, “What’re you gonna ask Santa for?”

“I can’t tell you,” Grace giggled, former mood forgotten, “Its a secret.”

“Oh come on,” he enticed dramatically, “I won’t tell,” he winked.

Slapping her hands to her mouth to hide a broad grin, Grace shook her head, barely containing the loud laughter that slipped past her small fingers. In return, Peter chuckled, “This one’s good at keeping secrets,” he declared as he stood again, picking Mae up so he could resume his hold on Jack’s hand. “This line’s crazy, huh?”

“Yeah,” Y/n agreed, “We’ve been here for about forty minutes,” she sighed, “My feet already killing me,” she chortled quietly, glancing down at her feet clad in swede, heeled boots- probably not the best choice for the day. 

Peter laughed too, “Maybe we can grab cocoa after these three get their Santa time?” He suggested, quickly adding, “So you can rest your feet and we can catch up,” even if it had actually only been two days since they’d last seen each other, “They already seem to be getting along,” he threw a glance and Grace and Jack, who’d started playing amongst themselves. 

Her smile slipped for a second, Y/n didn’t think Andy would want to join her work friend for cocoa and they’d already planned to take Grace for pizza and then walk around for a bit after lunch anyway, and she was actually quite excited about their plans. “Actually-”

“Hey, sorry I took so long,” before she could turn Peter down, Andy returned, seeming a little frazzled and giving off the impression that he was in a hurry. 

“Its fine,” she glanced at him as he touched the top of Grace’s head while looking between her and Peter. “Uh, Andy, you remember Peter?” When he furrowed his brows, she explained further, “From work, you met him at the bar-b-que-”

“Right!” He remembered suddenly, “Peter the accountant,” he put out his hand for a quick, polite shake. 

“And you’re Andrew the ex,” he joked lightly, though it didn’t seem to go over well with Andy, who clenched his jaw while retracting his hand. As he did, Andy’s phone beeped and he checked it quickly, letting out what she could only interpret as a frustrated sigh. 

“Everything okay?” Y/n probed as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

“Yeah, no, I just uh…..that was Lynn,” he cleared his throat and the look on his face made her anticipate his next words, “She wants me down at the office.”

Y/n scoffed, trying to keep her cool and maintain appearances in front of her friend, “Right now?” 

Andy gestured defeatedly, dropping his arms at his side, “She says one of the legal assistants just got their hands on some surveillance footage and she wants me to go take a look at it.”

“And then do what?” Y/n huffed a dry chuckle, “The courts aren’t open till January.”

Realizing that anything further would lead to an argument in public, Y/n shook her head, “Just go,” she turned away, panning her hardened gaze to the floor more to her right. 

She heard Andy sigh heavily, “I’m sorry,” he offered heavily as she blinked away unshed emotion, “I’ll be back for pictures,” he sounded earnest, but Y/n wasn’t prepared to hold her breath waiting for his return. “I gotta go, Bunny,” he offered Grace softly, and through her periphery, she saw him kissing their daughter’s forehead. 

“But daddy, you can’t leave yet,” she protested, reaching for his hand. It broke her heart that he was doing it again; letting them down in favor of work. “We haven’t even seen Santa.” 

When Y/n focused her attention on Grace and Andy again, he was bending to ruffle her hair as he promised, “I’ll be back before you do.”

“Promise?” She asked, big eyes hopeful. 

Briefly, their eyes met, and Y/n hoped the edge in her gaze was enough to stop him from saying what he was going to. “I…..I’ll do my best,” he smiled tightly, giving her another kiss, that time on the cheek. “I’m really sorry,” he mouthed to Y/n before leaving again. 

After he was gone, she and Peter stood in awkward silence, and she didn’t have to look at him to know that he was feeling bad for them. Anyone who’d heard the urgency in Andy's voice could tell that he wasn’t going to be back soon, besides it did seem to be a running theme with his work; one thing led to another, and then another. “Y/n, I-”

“You know what?” She straightened her back and shoulders, blinking quickly to clear her vision, “We’d love to get cocoa after this.”

That evening Just as Andy was turning off the stove, he heard a car pull up in front, and grabbing a dish towel off the counter, he hurried over to the living room window, getting to it just in time to see everything unfold. Peter getting out of the driver’s side of a silver Lexus, heading to the back door that faced the house just as Y/n got out of the front passenger seat. She’d texted him a couple hours earlier, when he was just about to leave the office, at first it was just a couple pictures of Grace with Santa Claus but afterwards she’d sent a short message letting him know that Peter would drive them home and she’d meet him there. 

The guilt that had washed over him in that moment had been utterly overwhelming. 

After Peter had helped Grace out of the car and the doors had been shut, he and Y/n hugged for a little longer than friends usually did and Andy felt a surge of jealousy join his mountain of guilt. It felt like he was watching his replacement move in on his family. Even after Peter had gotten into his car again, it lingered on the curb until Y/n opened the front door, letting Grace in first. 

The sound of their footsteps beckoned Andy to the mouth of the hall, where he caught them wiping their feet off on the mat and Y/n helping Grace out of her parka, which was adorned with flecks of white. “Daddy!” She beamed and the minute Y/n took her hat off, Grace bounded towards him, seemingly unbothered by his failure to get back to the mall.

Y/n however was visibly pissed.

Feigning a groan, he lifted Grace off her feet, planting a big kiss on her cheek. His heart swoll a little when she held his face against hers for a moment, and in response, Andy hugged her a little tighter. “How was the mall Bunny?”

“It was great! I got to tell Santa what I wanted, we took pictures then we got cocoa,” and just when he thought she was done, Grace continued exuberantly, “And then we went to the arcade and Peter won me a snowman!”

The mention of him made Andy’s expression falter and he felt a pang in his chest; what kind of man took another someone else's family to the arcade? 

The kind that stepped up when a father put everything else before his kid and the woman he claimed to love. 

“Yeah?” Grace nodded, asking her mother for her snowman as the three of them entered the kitchen. From a large, brown shopping bag, Y/n produced a stuffed snowman, back bowler hat and red and green scarf making him look like the embodiment of a seasonal tune.

“His name is Fred Frosty!” She declared, offering the toy to Andy. 

“Cool, how’d you come up with that?”

“Peter helped,” of course he did. Internally, Andy rolled his eyes; was the man determined to prove himself a better fit? 

“Why don’t you go introduce Fred to Mr. Bear?” Y/n suggested when Andy finally set Grace down, and with a vigorous nod, Grace made a beeline for the staircase. As their little one disappeared out of earshot, Y/n moved over to the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room, setting down her handbag and two shopping bags. 

“So Peter,” he broke the silence, letting jealousy get the better of him. He didn’t think it could be helped though; he screws up once and suddenly there’s another man there to fill his shoes. 

“Don’t even start with that,” Y/n warned pointedly. 

Andy scoffed, “Start with what?”

“‘So Peter’,” she mocked, “You,” she pointed angrily, “Were the one that said he’d be back before pictures. We spent 2 hours in line- I let Peter’s niece and nephew go before us, hoping you’d show up. But then suddenly it's over, another hour is gone and I don’t get as much as a text from you.”

Swallowing thickly, he ran a hand through his hair, “I got caught up-”

“Like you always do,” Y/n interrupted, “Its always work before us- before her.”

“That is not true,” he argued firmly, “Grace is always my first priority, you know that.”

Shaking her head, Y/n licked her lips, “She wasn’t today-”

“If I’d left that footage today, it would have gone to Neal- he would have gotten that case and my promotion,” Andy cut her off, “It’s just one day, she isn’t even upset,” even if he was, that was not the point. “She’s not even gonna remember that I wasn’t there.”

“Exactly, Andy; she’s not going to remember that you weren’t there, because she’s been going to see Santa every year since she was born and you’ve never been there. She’s not going to remember because to her this is normal. But every time you skip out on us for work, that’s another memory that you’re not a part of.” Tugging off her scarf, she made her way to the living room, draping the thick, plaid strip of fabric over the back of the recliner before starting to peel off her long, leather coat, briefly exposing the woolen inside as she did. “And you’re lucky right now you’re still this big hero in her mind,” she gestured widely with the maroon garment held in one hand, “To her, you can do no wrong and as long as you’re around more often than not, you can keep being that for her,” draping the coat over her scarf, Y/n paused, “But when one day, when she grows up and realizes that your job always comes first it is going to break her heart. She’s gonna look back at the pictures from today and remember that you said you’d come back but didn’t,” her voice broke at the end as fury turned to hurt. 

At a loss for words as everything she said hit him, Andy half sat against the back of the sofa, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched forward a little and eyes fixed on the polished hardwood. He hadn’t thought of it like that; Grace was okay now, but one day she might find out that he broke his promises and let his work come first. 

Maybe he was everything the divorce papers had made him out to be- the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. 

He didn’t know how to talk about his feelings, he didn’t even know how to focus on his family while he was on vacation. 

“You’re right,” he elicited softly, hanging his head, “God, you’re so right.” Clasping his fingers together in front of himself, he moistened his lips and shook his head. “Its all my fault, just like you’ve been saying,” he huffed. He’d spent so long telling himself that he didn’t know where it had all gone wrong, that he had done everything he could to keep their marriage together, but the truth was that he hadn’t. Leaving them at the mall wasn’t an isolated incident; for Y/n’s birthday the year before. he'd been late to her party and then on their last Thanksgiving together, he’d let her and Grace go to her parents’ without him. He’d pushed Y/n away every time she got too close and guarded himself against her efforts to help him open up. 

The click of her heels on the floor was the only  indication of Y/n stepping closer that Andy registered. “You’re a good man, Andy,” she offered, tone as gentle as she reached over to place her smaller hand over his clasped ones, giving his fingers an affectionate squeeze, “I know that, I just want Grace to know that too.” 

Andy sighed again, shifting his hands so Y/n’s would be sandwiched between his. “I screwed everything up, Y/n,” he wallowed, finally lifting his head. Unintentionally, their eyes met, hers were a little dim but Andy couldn’t tell if it was with sympathy or something else, but he did know that he hoped she could see the remorse in his. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t the man you two deserved,” he elicited a heavy breath, “I’m sorry that drove you away.”

Y/n frowned and quickly glanced down at their joined hands, though she made no move to separate them. “Its not too late,” she smiled sadly, matching his gaze once more. Her words linger for a moment, sparking an ember of hope in the center of his chest- until she doused it. “For Grace,” she stuttered, “Its not too late for Grace. You know? She still thinks you’re…..a kind, intelligent, compassionate man. Even if you don’t know how to show it.” 

He mulled over her words for a minute, “She thinks that?” Y/n nodded and he hesitated before asking, “What else does she think?”

Y/n thought on his question for a moment, “She thinks…..that- she knows that another man isn’t gonna love her the way you do. She knows that….she’s not gonna love another man the way she loves you.”

“Grace?” He probed, knitting his brows.

“Grace,” Y/n reaffirmed, clearing her throat and hastily pulling her hand away. Rubbing her palms anxiously on the sides of her jeans, she explained, clearly flustered, “Cause um….no one loves a little girl like her daddy. And to her you’re irreplaceable,” then, apparently finding her explanation lacking, Y/n added, “Because you’re her father.”

Smiling tightly, he nodded, “I got it.” His heart dropped when Y/n turned away to head upstairs and get Grace ready for dinner; of course it would always mean the world to him that Grace looked up at him, but for a split second, he’d thought that there was still hope for him and Y/n. But she’d made sure to draw a hard line, making it exceedingly clear that any chance of their reconciliation had been taken off the table when they signed the papers.

Tagging: @royalwritersoftheuniverses @patzammit @funfickgirl22 @talesofadragon @what-is-your-plan-today @pono-pura-vida @mdpplgtz03 @shipheart @marvelmenwhore @itschrismasevans @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @bemysugarbean @wintasssoldier @elrw24 @imyourbratzdoll @chasingsnowintheshadows @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @sarahdonald87

[cassierobinsons]

to the anon from a few days ago: sorry i'm only just getting back to you on the sam + classism discussion. putting this under a cut because it's rambly

To me the whole Sam classism thing is very much like coming from an immigrant family the people you will meet who complain about "illegals" because they didn't do it "the right way". Like generally, these are not people who hate immigrants or approve of ICE or anything like that, but they still feel a certain moral superiority in having improved their situation "the correct way". I don't think Sam thinks homeless people should all be sent to prison or anything, but I think he still looks at himself as having done something morally correct in getting out of his situation (even though he really didnt in the long run excluding the finale). You see this attitude with other things like when he asks Max why didn't you just leave. I don't think he has no empathy for these situations, but there's like a mental block of not understanding the barriers that other people might face that he didnt.

Oh i extremely know what you mean as a fellow child of immigrants. my mum will make a snide comment while watching the news and i’ll be like 🤨 oh so now we’re pretending that your friend [DATA EXPUNGED] is here totally legally huh. it comes from a small-c conservative belief that there exists a group of people who are less "deserving" than them.

“Morally correct” also happens to be how the fandom sees sam's escape from the family, when it’s just Morally neutral? Like it’s a good thing. But says nothing about sam’s moral fibre because it was for self-preservation reasons. that's not a bad thing either! and i obviously don't think fandom is bad for thinking of sam's hard work as an admirable trait but there needs to be some acknowledgement of his perspective is a little skewed.

Max is a great example to use because sam isn’t being spiteful, but he is being thoughtless and most of it is due to him literally being a man in his early 20s but like, it’s also because of how he grew up and how he got out.

sam’s judgy moments are at their most interesting in s1 because there’s so many of them and because they’re so intentional. Like, intentional on the part of the writers, not sam. his response to max is a reflection of how idk, myopic? sam’s read of dean and their family situation is. It’s an in-universe character flaw he has to work on in order to repair the bond between them, just as dean’s seething resentment over sam’s departure is something he needs to work on too. s1 is about both of them learning to see other as their dad's victim.

I think in general in the fandom you get these sort of knee jerk reactions like "no they can't be racist/sexist/homophobic/classist/etc, they don't hate xyz people" but really no one is saying they do. Like no one is saying Sam spits on poor people. No one is saying Dean thinks women are beneath him. But they both clearly have some ingrained beliefs that are ultimately prejudiced! These aren't immutable characteristics. In fact, I think for the most part if someone had an actual deep discussion with them about it they'd probably come around fairly easily, but that doesn't mean Sam scoffing at Dean hustling pool or Dean saying "sweetheart this ain't gender studies" aren't bad things to do. Like they're often understandable character flaws based on the characters backgrounds, but they're still there.

Honestly, i’d argue that plenty of people ARE saying that dean sees women as beneath him or that sam despises the poor or vice-versa etc. but like. Hmm. this is a tv show for a narrow group of people written by an even narrower group of people and thus the show reflects the views & prejudices of the people writing them. There are moments in which we’re supposed to approve of dean’s sexism but there are also moments where we’re supposed to disapprove while simultaneously approve of or at least be okay with sam’s sexism. There are moments where we’re supposed to think sam’s being a judgy snob, but there are still others where we’re supposed to wrinkle our noses at how uncouth and lumpenprole dean is in comparison to college boy sam. And that goes for the many other -isms in the show. characters are often used as vectors for the beliefs of the writers, good or bad. It’s up to the individual how they choose to make peace with that, but the problem with this fandom is that discussions about isms get heavily wrapped up with stan wars. 

Lemme give an example. It’s incredibly common in samgirl spaces to paint dean as a homophobic neanderthal. they usually do this by taking a shitty comment from season 3 and extrapolating it until they’re talking about s15 dean as if he can’t so much as look at a gay person without threatening to kill them in that sense they’re no different to the desticule circa 2020-2023 WHOA WHO SAID THAT anyway they pretend it’s just a heehee haha jokeyjoke but like. it is 2024 and they STILL can’t engage with conversations about queer dean without talking about deangirls as if they are personally endorsing homophobia! As a result if someone points out that sam makes just as many homophobic jokes as dean does and he’s just slyer about it they flip the fuck out because they’re lowkey projecting and think you’re judging them as hard as they judge you. This is why the mildest criticisms of sam prompt an insane amount of backlash. 

(i talk a little more about this phenomenon here)

and so we come to discussions about sam and classism that feel like people trying to defend him at every turn because they sincerely think we're trying to cancel him and it's pissing me off because if we can't even suggest fictional character sam winchester is maybe a little classist how the hell are we going to address the DERANGED lvls of classism throughout this fandom. i've never been in a fandom where so many people think going to college makes a str8 person better equipped to talk about queerness than actual queer people until i joined spn fandom.

(discussions about racism/racialised misogyny get a lot more complicated and a lot more depressing than anything mentioned above so i'm not approaching that topic for now. "but-" don't care didn't ask plus i probably have more melanin than you. i don't wanna talk about it!!!)

anyway. idk what i'm saying. i think i get where the defensiveness is coming from but it's annoying. what if we just mutually agreed that we're not to blame for spn's bigotry but we also have a responsibility not to reproduce that same bigotry? what if???

EDIT: coming back a day later to say that I do agree with your assertion that a deep conversation could be enough to change them! I just think that a certain part of fandom is allergic to acknowledging ANY flaw at all and that's the biggest hurdle in these discussions.

[noxjanes]

A/N: Laisle wears this outfit in game now as her main outfit with her previous main outfit being used for important meetings and less day to day and combat use. I also have had ideas but no inspiration to write the stories,until this one. I did start writing Rhunuk from Lais’ perspective but I lost inspiration. But here is a fluff prompt with Lais and Theron after the 7.5 update on Hutta. “How long have you been standing there?” “Longer than you’d like.”

Laisle stepped out of the refresher on her Fury Class interceptor starship, she had just returned from a long mission on Hutta. The former Dark lord had lost the Jedi padawan she was trying to help. As the blonde put the towel to her hair, she sensed a familiar presence near her. “How long have you been standing there?” asked Laisle to her lover.

“Longer than you’d like. When did you get back?” Theron questioned.

“Not too long ago, I lost Sa’har Theron.” Lais responded, wrapping the towel around herself while she entered her adjoining room. Laisle grabbed her normal gear that she wore around Odessen, opting to keep her hood and mask off.

“You did everything you could honey.” Theron consoled. Laisle looked at her husband, her blue eyes held all her emotions, anger, sadness, regret, remorse. The former spy was never great with emotions, but the woman he loved was hurting in more ways than she would ever lead on.

“Come on, Lana taught Lea the basics of force shoves and she is excited to show us how much she learned.” Theron said while standing up and extending his hand to his lover. Laisle chuckled upon hearing what her most trusted advisor had taught her daughter.

“Thank you, my love. You know how to help more than you know when I’m this upset. I think I was so frustrated because of how I left my siblings when I was taken to Korriban. Sa’har left her brother the same way I left Skye and Christian, just she was taken by the Jedi. His anger was strong, he blamed her for everything. I think it’s how I thought my family would feel, that they’d blame me for escaping.”

“You will find her, and your siblings don’t blame you, they understand you tried to get to them, but you had to survive yourself. Now let's go watch our oldest show us what she learned.” Theron reminded his wife.

The pair went to the Force Enclave where Lana Beniko and Lea Shan were to watch what the child had learned.

“Mommy! I wanna show you what Auntie Lana taught me!” Lea squealed when she saw her mother. The pink hair falling over the child’s left yellow eye. Laisle and Theron leaned against a wall next to a Chiss Jedi Master who was meditating. The pink haired child had a training dummy in front of her that she was supposed to gently push with the force, so with an audience she used all her might to push as hard as she could. The training dummy moved back a meter from where it had started.

“Great job sweetie!” Theron cheered while Lais threw her fists in the air in excitement.

“Why don’t you go get your sister and pack some bags so you, your sister, mom and I can go on a vacation. I have an idea for a trip all four of us can take, but you and your sister need to get ready, can you do that?” Theron asked.

“I can do it dad!” Lea responded, sprinting out of the Force Enclave giggling to herself.

“Where are we going? I need to pack for us, tell Lana what needs to be done, prpar-” Lais started asking but was cutoff.

“Its somewhere warm, we will be gone for one week, the state of the galaxy is not up to you. You are taking a vacation, your mom, dad, brother and sister are meeting us there, a mysterious benefactor reached out about a new housing opportunity and I took it. Now go pack warm clothes and I will tell Lana how to reach you.” Theron explained while showing his wife to the door.

Laisle walked to hers and Theron’s room where a bag was open on her bed, the man had really thought of everything, Lais thought to herself. She grabbed her more casual clothes, as well as some more formal outfits for both of the adults. Theron planning a family getaway for her was exactly what she needed after her mission not ending how she wanted. Laisle grabbed her favorite swimwear to wear around others, Theron being the only person she felt safe around to show all her scars, both the battle scars and the emotional ones. The final things the blonde grabbed were some towels and the toiletries her immediate family needed.

“You almost done honey?” The girls have their bags packed and I have T7 ready to help us get there. Your Fury is prepared and your dad just said they arrived at the villa. The rooms will be decided when we get there, since the property is in our names of course. We just have to leave.” Theron asked from the doorway.

“Yep, all that's left to say is where we're going.” Lais responded, grabbing the bag before her husband could. Theron led the way to the Fury, where the two kids were.

“Let’s head to Copero for a week to relax.”

“Copero? You? Theron you aren’t allowed to be there after what you did last time.” Laisle responded.

“They forgave me for that. Besides you forgave me, why are they any different?”

“I married you, they had to deal with your most stupid idea. Treason isn’t usually forgiven.” Laisle reminded her husband.

“You’ve been to Copero before mom?” Lea asked

“When I was pregnant with you I went there. Your dad was an idiot around when you were in my belly. I had to stop people from hurting your dad for breaking all their rules.” Laisle explained to the child.

“I hurt people including your mom to protect her, but she didn’t need me to protect her. I’m gonna go tell T7 to take off so we can get there and talk more on the way.” Theron said to end the conversation. As he walked to the bridge, he thought about how much his life had changed in 15 years. He no longer worked for the S.I.S., was married, had a family and had finally started to learn work/life boundaries. He was happy.

[brutalmasks]

❛  isn't it ironic?  ❜ / from the batman

if there was one thing that bunny mask had noticed about gotham's landscape, it was how surprisingly dark it was at night — even with all of the street lights and the displays that were active beneath her. though the city was arguably very curious in general: what with it's costumed villains and the man who pervaded through the streets to 'take care of them,' so-to-speak, dressed in pure black kevlar with bat ears. the batman, she'd heard they called him. he served as both a symbol of hope and fear for the city that she was currently dangling her feet above. it was a particularly windy night in gotham the day that she'd found herself thinking this to herself. and normally, that would've put a lot of people off from visiting one of the highest skyscrapers in gotham in addition to sitting on the edge of it, as well. but bunny mask was feeling fearless.

she had just done away with a man about an hour ago, or so, and he had committed some very heinous crimes. so, naturally, bunny mask had doled out quite the extreme punishment to him: a death by an overdose as he had done terrible things with drugs to people. but it was a slow and painful one. a more than deserved one, in her opinion. bunny mask left no such calling card that this was her doing, however. this is because she was not a villain, she reasoned, like the men and women with gimmicky monikers who were still running rampant through the streets were. but bunny mask supposed at least some people had grown suspicious of all of the sudden unrelated deaths happening in the city. and that seemed to lead her to now, at this point in time, with an unfamiliar voice talking directly to her.

the haunting light green hue of bunny mask's skin was further illuminated by the sign lying behind the both of them as she turned to face who she learned was a man. no, not just any man. the fabled one known as the batman. silence spread throughout the air for a moment, as if bunny mask was waiting, anticipating that maybe he would elaborate further on what he was asking her. though it appeared, the bat believed she already knew what he was referring to: and he would be right if they were thinking about the same thing. bunny mask's lips curled into a small unreadable smile as she gazed at the man. her eyes were all white and glowing.

❝ you mean how the people of the city appear to consider you to be a hero and me, a villain? i have to admit, i somewhat share the same sentiment. what i am doing is cleansing your city of the sickness. it has been flourishing in this place, left unchecked, for far too long. and so many other humans are suffering because of it, ❞ humans, she said, because bunny mask herself was anything but. a light exhale escaped her lungs then. bunny mask was trying hard to understand what could possibly be his perspective here to not kill anyone, but admittedly, it was hard for her. he was rather infamous for sticking criminals either in jail or in institutions that they would repeatedly escape from.

❝ i only wish to bring peace to this place. everyone deserves it, do they not? i heard that this city has been wracked with trauma from it's inception; what with happened with the arkham family. and the alley, nicknamed crime alley, for the brutal murder that had occurred within it. there are so many other examples as well of bad things happening to the innocent. we must change it, and i intend to get retribution for the lives that have been lost, or are about to be lost here. before this place turns into nothing but a festering wound, ❞ bunny mask's intentions were noble. this, she knew, but the batman was more likely than not here to try to talk her down... right? or, perhaps he had already made her mind up about her: that she was no good herself.

but she believed in the ideology she'd made for herself and in revenge. so, either way, nothing would be stopping her from fulfilling her goals.

[live-the-fangirl-life]

It's Only Temporary

Feyre Archeron x Rhys - Tattoo Artist Oneshot

After losing a bet, Rhys gets a new tattoo

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Tattoos

2492 words

*******

��Fey!” Cassian’s voice boomed through the glass door as he grinned and waved to get her attention.

Looking up from her sketchbook, Feyre watched as Cassian tried to open the locked door again, shaking the wood so hard the bell hanging above it started chiming frantically.

She rolled her eyes and walked out from behind the counter she’d been working at, quickly getting to the door before his enthusiasm ripped it from its hinges. Feyre had barely flipped the lock when Cassian swung it open and immediately wrapped her in a bone crushing hug, lifting her off the ground as she laughed before setting her back down and ruffling her hair. Then he strutted through the dim lobby of her tattoo parlor taking his time to survey the walls of designs, the colorful crushed velvet couches, and the small rack of t-shirts and stickers she had for sale with the shop’s logo printed on them.

The Rainbow was Feyre’s baby. She’d saved almost every penny from the time she’d gotten her first job in order to afford her shop. After studying art in school and apprenticing for a few years, she’d finally been able to buy a small storefront in Velaris and built her business from the ground up.

It didn’t hurt that most of her friends liked tattoos and were always happy to be her canvases and subsequent advertising.

Shaking her head at Cassian who’d made himself at home near her front counter, Feyre returned to her spot with her sketchbook, now open to display a howling water wolf, and raised a brow, “Can’t you read? I’m closed.”

He scoffed, grinning, and leaned his forearms on the counter. “Not for me, Archeron.”

She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help her smirk when she told him, “It late and I’m busy. Care to tell me why you’re here?” Feyre looked at him expectantly.

Cassian just grinned. “Do I need a reason to visit my very successful, very talented friend?”

“Wow, such flattery, Cassian. What exactly are you trying to get me to agree to?” She raised an eyebrow, trying to reign in a smirk.

He flashed her a wolfish grin. “Convince your sister to go out with me.”

Feyre snorted. “I don’t think you’re Elain’s type.”

“You’re hilarious, Archeron.” Cassian deadpanned and rolled his eyes, “Come on, Fey. Talk me up to Nesta.”

Feyre sighed, closing her sketchbook, and resigning herself to not getting anymore work done tonight. “Cass, I’ve done all I can on that front, believe me. You’ll have to win her over all on your own.”

“Been trying that for years.” He grumbled then ran a hand through his hair.

“I know that isn’t why you’re here,” Feyre insisted, “you ask me to do that literally every time you see me, so I know you didn’t seek me out for that. What’s up?”

He shot her a grin that made his single dimple stand out as he glanced at the door to the parlor. “Az is on his way over with Rhys and we were hoping you would do us a favor.”

“A favor?” she asked skeptically.

Cassian kept grinning. “You see, baby Arche,” Feyre snorted at the nickname. “your idiot boyfriend made a bet that he never stood a chance of winning, and he lost. Horribly.”

“Okay…” she rubbed at her face, trying to steel herself for whatever she was about to hear. Cassian’s shit-eating grin wasn’t making Feyre feel any better.

“Az and I want you to tattoo a little something special on Rhys for us.”

She paused, halting her shuffling of her sketches and furrowed her brows. “You want me to tattoo something on Rhys…because he lost a bet?”

“Yes.”

“Does Rhys know this?”

A slow smirk spread across Cass’s face, “He knows he’s coming to see you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Cassian, why would I agree to tattoo something—you haven’t even said what it is, by the way—onto my boyfriend when he obviously doesn’t even know what’s happening?���

“Well,” Cass pointed out, “I’d hope he’d realize what was happening once you sat him in the chair and got your needles and ink out.”

She snorted, “You know what I mean.”

“Because, Fey,” He sighed dramatically, “Little Rhysie is a punk and lost a bet so now he has to get a tattoo of our choice. And who better to do it, than his wonderful tattoo artist of a girlfriend?” his grin came back, wider than before.

Feyre said nothing for a moment as she stared Cassian down. Then she asked, “How drunk is he?”

Cassian chuckled, “Very.”

Feyre smiled slowly, “And how drunk are you?”

He narrowed his eyes at her but lifted his fingers to show a small space between his thumb and pointer finger. “Just a little bit.”

“So, a lot.” Feyre corrected

Cassian was silent a moment before grinning, “Rhys bet that he could outdrink me.”

Feyre blinked, then clutched the counter as she bent over laughing. She heard Cassian’s loud chortles next to her a moment later. When she stood back up, she wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head.

“Oh, my gods,” She was still chuckling, trying to picture Rhys go shot for shot with the mass of a man standing in front of her. “I love him, but sometimes he’s such an idiot.”

“I think you mean all the time.”

Just then, the bell on the door jingled again and Azriel held it open with one arm as he gripped a stumbling Rhys with the other.

“Hi, Feyre.” Azriel nodded at her as the door shut behind him.

“Hey, Az” She chuckled and walked towards the pair. “Can you lock that? Thanks.”

“Feyre, darling!” Rhys suddenly beamed and stumbled towards her, stepping close enough that she could smell every shot he’d taken on his breath. He used both hands to gently cup her face, squishing her cheeks in little and pressing a sloppy but sweet kiss to her lips. “I missed you.”

She smiled at him but stepped back to avoid his breath. “I saw you a few hours ago.”

He pouted, “That’s too long. I’ve had to look at those two ugly faces all night when I could’ve been looking at your dazzling one.”

“Why does he have to insult us when he compliments her?” Cass grumbled to Azriel who looked mildly amused.

He snorted. “Perspective.”

Feyre removed herself from Rhys’ grip only for him to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into his side. She leaned into his touch, and helped keep him standing, as she rested her head on his shoulder as she faced Azriel.

“Az, can you fill me in? Cassian tried, but I don’t know how much I trust his story.”

Cassian feigned hurt and shook his head. “Fey, I am wounded that you doubt me.”

Azriel’s explanation had been essentially the same as Cassian’s with a few more details and a little less slurring of words. She’d rolled her eyes but told them to wait in the lobby while she took Rhys back to her studio.

Feyre had no intention of actually tattooing her very intoxicated boyfriend just because he and his brothers had made a stupid bet. He’d have to be completely sober before she agreed to that.

Guiding Rhys into her back room, she waited until he was sitting on the edge of her large, leather chair before moving to stand between his spread legs. His hands instantly found her waist and she rested her palms on his thighs.

Quirking a brow at her boyfriend, Feyre asked, “Did you actually think you could out drink Cassian?”

Rhys scoffed, “I’m just as big as he is, why shouldn’t I have been able to do it?”

Feyre smirked as Rhys pouted. “Babe, you may be fit,” she huffed a laugh at his raised brow, “okay, fine, extremely fit, but Cass is a tank. And he’s a bartender. There’s no possible way you could’ve won that bet.”

Rhys kept pouting, flexing his fingers over her hips, “You’re supposed to be on my side, Darling.”

She laughed and pecked him on the cheek. “I am, always.” She kissed his lips for good measure. “But I’m going to tease you when you’re being an idiot.”

He used his grip on her hips to pull her towards him for an actual kiss. Feyre stayed wrapped in his arms for as long as she could stand his horrid tequila-drenched breath. Letting her arms loop around his neck and her fingers tangle in his hair, Feyre pulled back.

Rhys let his forehead droop onto her chest and Feyre had the distinct feeling that it was less about the warm comfort of her skin and more about an excuse for Rhys to press his face into her breasts.

“I don’t hear any needles buzzing back there, Fey!” Cassian bellowed from the lobby area. She snorted at the clear sound of a hand hitting someone’s head and the following curse.

She rolled her eyes but kept playing with Rhys’ hair as he mumbled something too muffled for her to understand.

“What was that?” she asked.

Raising his face, he looked at her and winced. “Are you actually going to tattoo me?”

She snickered at the disdain on his features.

“Maybe I should,” she teased, “to teach you a lesson making ridiculous bets.”

Rhys winked. “you can teach me a lesson anytime, Darling.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and was about to retort back when Cassian yelled again, “Baby Arche! We’re not paying you to make out back there!”

She snorted and hollered, “You’re not paying me at all! I’m getting there, don’t rush me.”

Azriel’s voice came next, “We didn’t bring your intoxicated man-child here so the two of you could get it on in the back parlor.”

Rhys snorted and replied back, “You say that like it’s never happened.”

“Rhys.” She hissed, smacking his arm as he chuckled.

“Gross,” two voices audibly gagged from the other room. “You’d better sanitize back there!”

A pause, then a disgusted Cassian said, “You’ve tattooed me on that chair, I don’t want to know what you sickos have done to it.”

Feyre and Rhys snickered before she said, “You might want to avoid the front couch then, too.”

Rhys, still grinning, added, “And the check-out counter—”

“—and the bathroom sink!” Feyre finished.

“Heathens.” Azriel muttered.

Rhys and Feyre laughed at their friends’ obvious disgust.

“I don’t need to hear any more of this,” Cassian insisted. “Ever.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and turned on her machine, allowing the steady buzz of the needle to flow into the waiting area; Cassian’s loud whoop telling her the sound was loud enough.

She carefully set the device on her counter and let the buzz echo through the room as she turned towards a small drawer and pulled out a colorful packet.

Rhys raised an eyebrow at the needle she clearly wasn’t prepping to use on him and watched as she flipped through the pages of whatever she was holding.

She paused on a page and grinned, flipping it around for him to see.

“Do you want a flying bat or one that’s hanging upside down?”

Rhys blinked. Twice. He slowly grinned back at his clever girlfriend as she handed him the sheet of temporary, press-on tattoos.

They were cartoonish-looking designs; the ones made for children that you could use a wet cloth to press onto your skin. He flipped through the rest of the pages to see a variety of other animals and plants, all ready to be cut out and used.

“Is my only choice a bat?” He grinned, looking back up at Feyre to see her already grabbing a scissor and paper towel.

She snorted. “That was what your brothers insisted on.” She took back the packet and carefully cut out the two bats. “They may be drunk enough to think a press-on is a real tattoo, but I don’t know if they’d accept anything else.”

When she held up both bat options for him, he nodded towards the one with outstretched wings. Feyre wet the paper towels and pushed his sleeve up to reveal his toned forearm. After making sure his skin was clean and dry, she gently pressed the bat onto his skin and covered the design with the wet paper towel, allying pressure to keep the image steady.

Rhys reached over with his free hand and grabbed the packet again. “Why do you have these? Besides for saving your boyfriend from a stupid bet?” he finished with a wide grin.

She laughed, still pressing firmly on the tattoo. “I keep them for the kids.”

At his raised brow she rolled her eyes. “Sometimes my clients can’t help but have their kids with them, so I keep the press-ons for those who see their parents and insist they get a tattoo, too.” She snorted at some memory. “I used to have washable markers for them to use but then a few of them would walk out of here looking like some avant-garde painting, so I switched to these. It’s adorable when they hold their cartoon dragon next to their parent’s actual ink.”

Rhys chuckled and Feyre lifted her hand, slowly peeling back the sticky paper to reveal a cute, flying bat.

He flexed his arm, grinning as the movement made the bat’s wings look as if they were flying. “How do I look?”

She leaned in to inspect the bat, making a show of darting between the cartoon and his real tattoos trailing down his arm. “Hmm, I think maybe when you’re sober, I should actually ink this onto you.”

Her grin made him laugh. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss next to the bat, careful not to brush it, and he smiled as she looked back at him.

“How’s it going?” Az’s low voice carried from the front room, making Feyre chuckle and Rhys huff.

She leaned over and expertly turned off the still-buzzing needle before calling back, “Just finished!”

Rhys brought his arm up and laughed again at the small, cheery bat placed between his darker swirls of years-old markings. He locked eyes with Feyre again as she put her supplies away and moved to stand once again between his legs. “You think they’ll buy it?”

She snorted, “Probably not.” She laughed again at his sullen expression. “But I don’t think the bet ever specified the tattoo having to be real.”

Rhys’ grin returned in full force as he brought his hands to Feyre’s face and guided her lips towards his. “You, Darling, are spectacular.”

Laughing again, Feyre leaned out of his reach. “And you, babe, still have horrible breath.”

Rhys rolled his eyes but loosened his grip as she stepped out of his arms, taking her hand as she led them back towards the front lobby.

“Come on,” she said over her shoulder, winking, “let’s show them your new tattoo.”

*****

Taglist:

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[gogolucky13]

Southpaw (2)

Series summary: Tied up in the criminal world your godfather has built, you have no reason to leave, until you find one in the man they call Southpaw.

Pairing: boxer!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1,892

Warnings: Mentions of an accident/PTSD.

A/N: Part two! Mostly just some Bucky background and perspective. Thank you so much for all the love on the first part. Hope you enjoy this one and I promise things will start to pick up between these two soon! Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics 💜😊

Bucky Barnes has always been a fighter. A literal one in the streets of Brooklyn defending his childhood best friend. A figurative one helping to support his family after his father walked out when he was fourteen. Then, he took on the fight of his life after the accident.

It was supposed to be a routine training session, something Bucky and his team had done numerous times before. But the old adage of Murphy’s Law held strong that day, and everything that could go wrong, went terribly, terribly wrong.

One second he had the rope in his hands, then a loud bang in the next. A small slip of his foot, his heart dropped to the deepest pits of his stomach as he fell the seemingly endless 50 feet to the ground below. The helicopter still hovered above him, swirling the sand and dirt around his limp body. Sometimes he can still feel the sting of it on his face, the burn of it in his lungs as he gasped for air. Shock took over soon after impact, the pain too much to bear consciously. Images of his mom and sister flashed in his mind, a welcome comfort that kept him company while he waited for help. Then, everything faded into peaceful nothingness.

Bucky woke up in the hospital two days later with a broken back, a mangled left arm, and a new outlook on life. But sometimes life is still cruel, even after it gives you a second chance. The physical wounds healed, but the mental ones lingered long after his body was put back together. Haunting memories of the accident incessantly replayed in his mind, clawing their way into his consciousness and spreading a darkness through him like an insidious poison.

It fractured Bucky’s life piece by piece, and he deteriorated from the inside out. He lost sleep and an unhealthy amount of weight. He found it difficult to keep a typical job. His relationships with his family and friends suffered greatly. Therapy only seemed to help dull the pain and bring him back to the light temporarily, just so he could succumb to the darkness once again.

He was left a shell of the man he once was, until he discovered fighting.

Working out was always something Bucky found cathartic. A safe and responsible way for him to release his pent up frustrations. The gym he attended offered boxing classes, and he saw it as a sign from someone that it was something he was meant for. Fighting wasn’t new for him. There were amateur fighters in the service, and he would gladly get his hands dirty with them during downtime. But as he continued to train, he soon realized not only how good he was at it, but how much he craved it. The feeling of fist meeting flesh, the shock of getting hit, the exhilaration of winning. He had never felt more alive.

Without even trying too hard, Bucky soon found himself in the world of underground boxing. He always trained alone and fought for himself, but the money wasn’t enough even when he did win. And he won, a lot.

Then a few months ago, Bucky took notice of a man who always seemed to be standing in the shadows of the fights. A look of concentration on his face as he watched Bucky—observing, analyzing, contemplating. After a few matches, he finally introduced himself as Sam Wilson and asked if he’d be interested in meeting with his boss, Alexander Pierce. Of course Bucky agreed. He had no reason or excuse to say no; between jobs and with no steady income, Bucky needed something. Pierce is well known in the underground fighting world, and he saw it as his opportunity to make some real money.

It was a surreal experience for Bucky to be sitting in the Alexander Pierce’s office just yesterday, reviewing and finalizing their agreement. He couldn’t help but feel as if he was almost signing his life away as the pen met paper and he became Pierce’s newest fighter. But the promise of a huge payout pushed out any doubts in Bucky’s mind. All he had to do was win against someone called the God of Thunder, the name alone reading like a joke to Bucky.

An old warehouse comes into view as Bucky turns off the main road, and he’s compelled to double check the address Sam texted him this morning. When it’s confirmed he’s at the right place, Bucky parks his vintage Mustang beside an expensive looking silver car in the dirt parking lot and heads inside.

Pierce’s gym is the nicest one Bucky has ever seen. The slightly worn down exterior doesn’t do any justice for the spacious, modern interior.

Commercial garage doors run along the same wall as the entrance. Metal rafters line the ceiling and a light grey concrete covers the floors. The brick walls give it a slight edge, and the bright industrial lighting calls attention to all the brand new equipment. On the opposite wall to the entrance, Bucky can see a row of black punching bags, all without tears, the silver chains they hang from shiny and rust-free. Treadmills and stationary bikes line the far wall to his left, and even from where he stands by the door, he can tell they’re top of the line. The training mats are smooth, clean from any dirt and sweat stains.

But it’s the boxing ring in the center of the gym that he’s most interested in. Eyes wide in awe, he feels almost like a kid in a candy store as he takes it all in. It sits on a raised platform about three feet high with four black posts in each corner. White ropes line the perimeter, framing the immaculate grey mat. Just looking at it has Bucky’s hands tingling and palms itching.

Walking further into the space, Bucky catches sight of Pierce on the other side of the gym. The shock of seeing the boss doesn’t last long when he sees who he’s talking to. You stand with a pad of paper in your hand, irritation warping your features as you apparently discuss something of concern with Pierce. It’s impossible for Bucky to make out what you’re saying, but he can’t help the small curl of his lips as he watches you.

The memory of literally running into you yesterday is still fresh on his mind, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it for the rest of the day after. There was a moment, as he held your gaze, where he saw the initial shock of the encounter brighten the colored specks of your eyes, but it quickly faded from the hidden sadness he saw behind them. The remaining embers of a dying star, holding on to hope something will spark it back to life.

He didn’t find it peculiar to see you at the office. Adorned in a pantsuit and heels, clearly distracted by some form of business on your phone, you looked like you belonged. But to see you here at the gym, Bucky finds that to be odd, and it has nothing to do with the office attire you still wear. Dying star, indeed.

As he continues to watch you, that instinctive pull Bucky felt yesterday ignites something deep in his chest, and he wonders about you. Everything from where you came from to how you ended up here with Pierce.

Lost in his own thoughts, Bucky is oblivious to his surroundings as he continues to stare.

“Hey, Southpaw!” Sam calls. “Are you ready?”

Startled, Bucky turns to face his trainer.

During his meeting yesterday with Pierce, he wanted to argue that he didn’t need a trainer, that he’s been fighting and training on his own for years, but the fierceness of Pierce’s aura and the stern look he gave told him not to. It seemed a lot of decisions would be made for him now that Bucky works for a man who speaks with such strong conviction and leaves little room for discussion.

Re-gripping his hold on the gym bag he carries, Bucky nods his head. “Uh, yeah.”

“Follow me then,” Sam replies, flipping a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of a set of steel double doors.

With one last glance over his shoulder in your direction, Bucky follows Sam through the doors and down a few flights of concrete stairs. Stepping through another set of double doors, wooden ones this time, they open up to reveal a brick hallway with bright fluorescent lights which illuminate the cream tiled floor. Sam walks about fifteen feet until he reaches the first door on the left and holds it open for Bucky to enter.

Inside, Bucky finds a room lined with black metal lockers, several wooden benches positioned around the space. Bucky watches as Sam makes his way over to a locker near the far right corner.

“You can put your stuff in here, James.” He opens the locker door and gestures to the empty space with a tilt of his head.

“Uh, Bucky.” Confusion twists Sam’s features, an almost comical quirk to his eyebrow as he stares back. “Huh?”

“No one really uses my first name,” Bucky explains, placing his bag in the locker. “I go by Bucky.”

Nodding his head and crossing his arms, Sam gives Bucky a once over. “Alright then, Bucky, let’s continue on with the tour.”

Sam leads Bucky to the back of the locker room where several showers hide behind a white mortar wall. Back in the hallway, Sam then shows him the medical station, the second door on the left side. As they walk back towards the locker room, Bucky takes notice of the two doors on the other side of the hallway, and his curiosity gets the better of him.

“What are those?”

Sam glances over his shoulder, then to the doors Bucky inquired about.

“That’s Pierce’s office,” Sam states, pointing to the farthest door, “and that’s Y/n’s.” His finger lands on the door almost parallel to the locker room.

“Who is she?” Bucky finds himself asking before he can even filter the question. His eagerness to know everything about you apparently disrupting the conscious idea of think before you speak.

Sam turns to face Bucky, arms crossing as he regards the new fighter with a stern gaze. Bucky can feel his skin begin to crawl at the unrelenting stare.

“Y/n is Pierce’s goddaughter,” Sam says, his voice firm, “And it’s best if you just stay as far away from her as possible.” He doesn’t elaborate, and abruptly turns on his heel towards the wooden doors that lead back up to the gym. “C’mon, we’ve got training to do.”

Before Bucky follows Sam, he steals a selfish minute for himself to peer inside the large window by your office door, hoping to find something, anything that would give him a small glimpse into who you are. When he doesn’t find it, he sighs and reluctantly joins Sam upstairs.

Returning to the main floor of the gym, Bucky quickly scans the room for you, but soon realizes you’re no longer there. He then focuses on Sam, who begins the process of wrapping his hands, a lingering thought of you tickling the back of his mind.

Part One // Part Three // Masterlist

[bees--in-my--bones]

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. “Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[kineticallyanywhere]

So. Dndads. Best dad? Best ‘saving the kids’ arc? Best anchor arc? Worst arc? Who had the most development?

oh man so there's "best" and there's "favorite" which feel like two different things. Both are gonna be subjective, but "best" refers to what's fitting the definition of "good" and "favorite" is what I will take for all it's trashy corners because it hits all the right trope buttons for me

Best Dad: Darryl. Henry's a close second, but his baggage holds him back. Darryl is affirming to his kid, they have a relationship based on both love and respect, they're actively adjusting boundaries and learning to listen to each other. Does it help that Darryl came from the most stable home and has the least complex relationship with his kid? Absolutely! But Darryl was even able to dad the twins. That's a feat all on it's own. Favorite Dad: Henry. He's just... so much???? And just always trying to be a good person??? He likes hugs and complimenting his friends??? You all most know I'm the biggest sucker for that. Sure every other dad fact is a crime against mankind and an embarrassment to our species but he's only 75% (give or take) human anyway! ...his cool backstory is like 1000 bonus points. [Slaps hood of Henry] you could fit so many AUs in this

Best Kid-Saver Arc: Tower of Terry. It's got the hahas. It's got the tears. It's got subverting Anthony's plans and then picking on him relentlessly about it. This arc contains multitudes Favorite Kid-Saver Arc: Lord of Chaos. Cause its freaking hysterical. Don't get me wrong, Tower of Terry and Forknights are close in the running. You guys KNOW I ADORE Tower of Terry. Obsessed over it for two months. But Lord of Chaos is what really hooked me in the first place and I could listen to that thing on repeat its just so funny

Best Anchor Arc: Football. In terms of having a structure, being hysterical, having a clear and developing emotional arc, and a full sense of closure at the end? Football, hands down. Favorite Anchor Arc: Oakvale. You may be sensing a pattern here, but this one was actually really hard. There are parts of this arc that drag and I know a lot of my enjoyment of it just comes from the Drama and the Lore and the Beary-Warning-Henry-30-Episodes-Ago-That-If-He's-Not-Careful-They-Could-End-Reality-Hope-You-Don't-Forget-About-That-Subplot-For-The-Mental-Health-Metaphor-It's-A-Spectacular-Metaphor-But-He's-Really-Not-Lying-This-Time

Worst Arc: This is really really really hard. Also the most subjective on all fronts so I'm just combining "worst" and "least favorite". Because every arc has something going for it. And I hate that I'm sitting here trying to decide between Battle Axe of Hatred and Foster Dad (which I guess is what I'm calling Jodie's arc, after the trial ends), because they're both "Glenn arcs". Glenn Close had development (fight me*) and both of these arcs got something done, but... Y'know, I think I gotta go with BattleAxe. This doesn't mean I think it's bad! It did what it was supposed to do, it established Glenn and Nick's relationship dynamic! Glenn didn't have to grow or change in his first arc, Henry certainly didn't! Ron was ahead of the curve! Battleaxe, I think, suffered by the same moment that made it iconic, and I wouldn't change it for the world, it's just not an arc I revisit much. Foster Dad was incredibly long and kinda all over the place, but every individual episode was a riot and Jimmy was a delight. Every other arc is helped by either having an off-the-wall premise or something really emotionally potent. BattleAxe is honestly pretty straight forward DnD. And it gave us Paeden I would trade it for nothing every arc in this show is fantastic.

Most Development: Darryl Everybody developed (fight me*, episode 1 Glenn would not say any of the things episode 68 pt2 Glenn said), but two of the hardest things for a person to do are acknowledge their own insecurities, take on perspectives outside of their own, and ask for help. And Darryl did all of those things. Every single one of these dads has come so far. None of them are who they were when the show started and I'm so proud. I land the pin on Darryl specifically because I feel like Henry and Glenn still have some work to do and Ron kinda had a head start. Not to say we aren't all improving and changing constantly, but in terms of moving from one major stage to the other, Darryl is much more polished off.

tl;dr yes

*but like you don't have to. If you don't agree that's fine

[literaila]

an epiphany we cannot

spencer x reader 

request: hey there! would you by chance, be up to writing something where the reader is finishing grad school and working as a new agent for the bau? and spencer has to go check in on her because she hasn't been showing up to work/class because of depression, and he helps to clean her hair and tidy up the house with her before asking her what's up? sorry if that's a little weird, but i just want a fic where the reader isn't suddenly fixed. i feel like you're the perfect person to do that! 😅

warnings: symptoms of depression, lack of eating + sleeping + showering, maybe angst? its just terrible poetry really 

a/n: the writing of this fic is intentionally chaotic. its meant to be put into the perspective of someone who hadnt slept in week(s). so, if it gets confusing, that was on purpose. 

*

Sleep was an epiphany. 

A strange thing that only came when it was pitch black outside, when the birds had all gone to bed and there were no clouds to be seen in the sky. A strange thing that only came from the deepest feelings in her chest that could not be described. Feeling that she didn’t dare try to mutter aloud. 

How could she? Entirely alone- what would be the point? Why might she try to explain anything when she could simply... 

Breathe in and out. Take in air, she liked to think that she really didn’t need, breathe in and out, and hope that her feeling would soon disintegrate into her body so that she could- for once -feel that strange sleep. So that for once, she could merely forget that she had that feeling at all. 

It had been a hard week, a hard year, one too many too many hard seconds pounding down on her body, the time tick-tocking until she was too tired to breathe. 

She couldn’t sleep. Really, not at all. Not even when she laid in bed for hours, cursing only in her head at the terrible sounds that filled her small apartment. Wondering how the world was acting when she was away. She never slept. Not after hours of thinking, of breathing in the same rhythm, her heart beating just the same as it had hours ago- 

She hated it. 

But, she promised herself, she would not leave this bed, would not leave her house until she could sleep. Until this dreadful feeling was gone so far away that she could no longer think of what it had been. Until her eyes were shut, her body was relaxed, and she no longer had to work to breathe. No more work. 

Her thoughts were jumbled, her mind running on the air she was breathing and nothing else, her conscious mind having no sense of what was going on. 

She was sure there was a smaller part of her screaming somewhere. Sure that this tiny little part of her was banging on the walls of her heart, pushing the ideas, the air, out of her body. She was sure that this part of her was in agony- or something far worse -because of the promise she had made to herself. 

But she wouldn’t think of it, sleep was far too important. 

An epiphany she could not have. One she thought she might dream of if she could. 

She often wondered if other people were struggling just the same as her, if other people were far too surrounded by the whirl of thoughts, by the promises, by the exhaustion, to even think of sleep. If they too, also felt that sleep was an epiphany that would never come. 

She supposed that there wasn’t anyone else, and if there was, she wished their eyes would finally flutter into a peacefulness that they longed for. 

She wished it was herself she was thinking of. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done anything good, the last time she had done anything to improve the state of her mind- hysterical, mad, running itself into a place where air was not a thing that could be achieved -to improve the state of her house, which of course was filled to the very edge with things she didn’t recognize. Things that she’d used weeks ago when she could think sane thoughts. 

She wasn’t doing anything, she wasn’t sleeping, was barely breathing, she tried not to move. She sat in her silence, in the hot air of her room. She wondered when she would fall so far into this bed so that she would no longer be there, when she could finally sink into the hole that seemed was her life, when she could disappear so she didn’t have to wonder about anything at all. 

No one could tell when it had started, when she had laid down and promised herself. If you had asked her, she wouldn’t have answered, she would have laid in the same spot, her body a corpse that was somehow still breathing, and kept quiet until it was too late for questions.

It had been weeks, surely it had, and no one had seen her. No one knew where she was. 

No one had seen her in this state, this terribly fragile, desperate state. 

She thought that she might like to keep it that way. She didn’t like to listen to that tiny voice that wanted her to let someone in, to let them help. She didn’t like that tiny voice. 

It kept getting in the way of the vows she had made to herself. Foolish, unknowing of what she truly needed. 

Sleep.

But, even still, sleep didn’t come. Even when she announced it was the only thing she needed, the only thing she wanted. Even when she thought she was screaming out into the world, begging the universe to take some mercy on her and give her that gentle release. Even when she thought that she didn’t have a voice to beg with anymore. 

Sleep had not yet come. And she could no longer count the days that had gone by. 

She didn’t want to anyway. 

Pounding though. There was definitely pounding. 

She could definitely hear that. 

Different from the one that she heard in her head, different from the banging she was familiar with. No, that banging was a dear old friend she wished to greet at her door. 

This pounding in the air was something else, something on her walls. 

She barely felt herself groan, could barely tell when she ran a hand over her eyes, trying to weigh them down with sheer force. 

“Y/N?” the pounding called, too loud when she was trying to fall asleep. Too loud when she was sure that it was the middle of the night. A voice accompanied it, following too far into the hallway to her bedroom. 

She was trying to sleep, she wanted the epiphany. Pounding could wait, it would. It would just have to wait for her. Wait until she could sleep. 

But, when her body was tingling so far off the bed, and suddenly irritation was crawling its way up her spine, wrapping her in its fury, suddenly she could get out of bed. For once. For what felt like the first time in weeks. 

A strange epiphany she did not think about. 

Still, she barely recognized how to walk, barely knew that her feet were still attached to her legs anymore, but still, fury followed her as she stormed her way down the hall, as she latched herself onto the wall for support. 

As she stopped the sudden pounding that was burning that fire in her throat. 

And while she was aware there was a voice. A raspy tenor tone coming from the other side of the door. It was one she might have known weeks ago before her promise, but because she didn't recognize it she was surprised when she saw the man standing in her doorway. 

But, strangely enough, he looked more surprised to see her. 

His eyes were wide, shock displaying on all of his features. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting to see the devil of a person that Y/N was. He’d been expecting the girl she’d been before, brighter, alive. 

Spencer stood there for only a moment, taking in the breath of air that was Y/N. It had been three weeks since any of them had seen her since she’d stopped returning their phone calls. Finally, that morning Spencer decided he had to stop over at her apartment before going home, and it wasn't like anyone had tried to stop him. 

There was clearly something very wrong. 

Y/N winced at the light creeping its way into her eyes, winced at the sky, and tried not to think about how tired she was. 

She sighed and looked up at Spencer, who was still standing shocked on her doorstep. 

“What’re you doing here Spencer?” Her voice was an unfamiliar scratch to the both of them. A fraction of the voice she used to have. 

Spencer snapped out of his shock, bending down so he could get a more clear look at her face. It took him one more moment before he got the courage to clear his throat and say something. 

“Where have you been? Why haven't you answered the phone?” 

When there was a lack of answer in the air, Spencer invited himself into her apartment. He knew well enough she wasn't going to do it herself. 

He pushed past her into her living room, too focused on what he saw to notice how she struggled to stay up on her feet, how her eyes couldn't focus and her world turned black for a couple of seconds before she could look at him again. 

No, Spencer didn't notice that. He was too stuck on the appearance of her apartment. 

There were cups everywhere, papers and textbooks scattered around the floor, clothes on almost every piece of furniture. It was clearly very well lived in, but Spencer couldn't see anyone. All he saw were some ghosts sitting in his coworker's house. 

“What happened?” He asked too quietly for Y/N to hear from the other side of the room. 

Her mind was locked in her bedroom, in the hole that was supposed to be enveloping her at the moment. Her mind was focused on the screaming in her head, telling her 

No, you can't. You cannot have that you cannot. Her mind was a repeat of all the things she wasn't doing, all the things she wouldn't do, the promises she’d made, the words that she’d been telling herself for days. 

No, you cannot go back to bed. You’ve been sleeping long enough. 

And so, she couldn't hear Spencer. Not over this demand. Not over this insisting she was inflicting upon herself. 

“Y/N?” Spencer asked, now in front of her, looking at her with concerned eyes that she didn't want. “When was the last time you slept?” He questioned, grabbing her arm to keep her from falling. 

Huh. She hadn’t even noticed. 

Her mind was a glass of water, tipping off the edge. 

“I don't remember,” she murmured, her thoughts too overwhelming to count the days back. To think of the weeks she had lost. To think about how much she might have missed Spencer, how she could be enjoying his company right now. 

Too overwhelming to think. 

“Your complexion is sallow, you’re blinking at an unusually slow rate, and you can't stand up straight.” Spencer paused, looking over as if he had just heard her. “You can't remember?” his voice was almost too loud. Much too loud when she was right next to him. 

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, her head still pounding even though she had left him in, her mind still yelling even though she had kept her promise. Her body was tired, her mind was almost gone, and it was hard to even stay focused on Spencer. 

“When was the last time you ate Y/N?” Spencer asked, his voice now demanding and worried. 

She just shook her head, letting him know that she still didn't remember. 

“Shower?” he asked slowly, keeping his eyes on hers. 

She didn't express a thing, just made an effort to keep her eyes on his. So that he would know she wasn't ignoring him. 

Spencer sighed, keeping his hand on her arm and gently leading her to the couch. 

Y/N tried to not think about how she would’ve liked to take a nap. Would’ve liked to get some escape from this moment. Even if it was Spencer. 

You see, there had been a flicker between them weeks ago. Before the promise. Before Y/N couldn't sleep, couldn't breathe. When she used to answer the phone, they used to spend time thinking about each other, denying the daydreaming they did. Spencer used to stare at her over the book he was holding, his eyes trapped by her. Y/N tried to pretend she didn't do the same. 

There had been a flick between the two of them weeks ago, and even now, Y/N wanted to show him that he cared. 

Even when she could barely keep her own heart beating. 

Spencer stared at her for a while, making sure that she was still breathing even if he looked away. He observed her dull eyes, her lifeless body, and the weak composure of her face. 

He couldn't deny that he missed her, that he’d been worried before he’d even seen her. But looking at her, he wished he didn't have to see this. Wished that she wasn't a pile of flesh before him, wished that they could go back to weeks ago when she had smiled at him. 

He finally went into her kitchen to get her a glass of water. 

He wasn't sure if she would be able to keep anything else down, and frankly, he was more worried about her lack of sleep. Of how exhausted she looked. 

“Do you want to take a shower? Hot showers help relax the muscles and nerves so that your entire body feels more relaxed. It might help you sleep.” 

At the mention of sleep Y/N’s eyes went wide. 

Her mind was begging begging begging, telling her not to do it. That she couldn't, wasn't allowed to. She didn't know why she was trying to torture herself, why she was inflicting this stone-cold pain on her own mind, erasing herself from everything. 

She didn't know why she couldn't get these thoughts under control even when she was with someone else. 

Not allowed. Can't. 

Sleep was an epiphany. 

A strange thing that only came when it was pitch black outside, when the birds had all gone to bed and there were no clouds to be seen in the sky. A strange thing that only came from the deepest feelings in her chest that could not be described. Feeling that she didn’t dare try to mutter aloud. 

A feeling she didn't want to feel anymore. Wanted to get rid of, throw it into the sun. Burn it to ash until she forgot about it completely. 

She finally nodded, words frozen in her throat, her eyes falling so quickly now. Sleep was an epiphany she had not had for so long. 

She would have to force herself to stay up any longer. 

She would just have to ignore the voice, let him help you. Spencer. 

Spencer helped her into the shower, making sure that she was secure before leaving. He smiled a sweet smile before walking out of the room, giving her something to imagine as hot water pounded against her skin, a feeling that had become so unfamiliar to her in the weeks following her promise. 

Spencer waited a couple of minutes after. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he also didn't want her banging her head on the tile while he was gone. 

After he was sure she was staying awake, he preoccupied himself with cleaning up her apartment. Even slightly, by throwing away the trash and gathering all of her clothes into the hamper he had found in her closet. 

He could see the pain and the desperation on her face, could feel it in the air when she was just looking at him and not uttering a word. He had to help, in any way he could, just so that she wouldn't feel that any longer. So maybe she would smile before he left. 

He was interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

JJ was texting him, checking on Y/N, and asking him what was going on. He’d almost forgotten that he’d told everyone else he was going to see her. 

Spencer waited a few brief moments, listening for the sound of the shower before he called her back. He wasn't sure if Y/N would want to know that they were all worried about her. 

Spencer wasn't even sure Y/N wanted him there at all. 

“Spence, is she okay?” forgoing a hello, JJ asked. Spencer could hear breathing in the background, two other people talking. He figured that the rest of the team was all gathered around the phone, acting as if they had nothing else to do but ask him what was going on. 

“She's alive,” Spencer said, laughing bitterly at how relieved he felt about that. “She's taking a shower right now, she said she didn't remember the last time she’d had one.” 

“What?” confusion littered the tone, and Spencer wished he didn't have to explain, but he also knew that no one else was going to take silence as an answer. 

“She hasn't been sleeping enough, she doesn't remember anything she's done in the past few weeks- and she doesn't seem to mind that. She almost fell over just standing up, and it took her five minutes to come to the door. She's the clinical definition of fatigue.” He told JJ, sighing as he picked up papers from across the floor, textbooks that he was sure Y/N hadn't even touched. 

“Did she say anything about why?” Derek’s voice flooded through the phone, Spencer clearly now on speaker. 

“She could barely pay attention the entire time, she was completely withdrawn from our conversation.” 

Spencer paused, hearing the water from the other room shut off. He almost felt worse now, and it was a lucky excuse that Y/N was going to come out. 

“She just got out of the shower, I have to go.” Spencer rushed out, ignoring the arguing pleas that came his way. “I’ll call you later.” 

By the time he had hung up, Y/N was walking out of the bathroom, a robe wrapped around her shoulders, her body curling into itself as she walked over to him. 

Her mind was still yelling and the world was still pounding on her back, chipping her into little pieces. 

And she could still feel that feeling, the one she had tried to throw away. 

But, at least she was clean. 

“Good shower?” Spencer asked, watching her as observed the newly cleaned living room. She nodded as she looked around, her voice still lost with the rest of her mind. “Are you okay Y/N?” Spencer blurted out, his voice thinking faster than his mind. 

He was worried, even after she had managed to take a shower and fall asleep. Even if she looked more alive, and a little bit less in pain. She was still silent, and she still hadn't slept any. 

“Can I go to bed?” She whispered, ignoring his question similar to how she ignored the yelling in her head telling her she 

Could not would not cannot 

She took a breath in, so familiar with remembering how to breathe. 

Inhale, exhale. Keep your heart beating. 

Spencer stood in front of her, still observing. She was avoiding his eyes, his careful hands, his thoughts so that maybe she could get away from there. She appreciated his company, she really did. As always. 

But, she really just wanted him to leave. 

“I think you need to eat something first,” Spencer whispered back, waiting for her reaction, hoping that he would just let him do this one last thing before she threw him out. 

Y/N was barely listening, but still, she nodded, her disagreement clouded by the weight of the world on her shoulders. The promise she still had to fulfill. 

The thoughts of the person Spencer used to know too powerful to avoid. 

Oh, how she was ashamed that she had turned into this person unable to take care of themselves. Oh, how she was ashamed that he was the one that had to see her like this. 

She just wanted to sleep. 

“Chicken broth is rich with vitamins and minerals, which are useful against common ailments like the common cold, the flu-” Spencer paused, shaking his head. “Nonetheless, you just have to drink a couple of cups.” He told her, leading her back to the couch so that she wouldn't fall asleep standing like he was worried she would. 

He then left the room, clicking on her TV in an effort to keep her entertained while he heated some water. 

But Y/N didn't pay attention. She was too lost in the memories of the last few weeks, that black hold that was her bed, the pounding that was her life, the breathing that she still couldn't get right no matter how many times she practiced. That feeling she just couldn't get rid of. 

She had no idea how she had abandoned everything so easily, how she could have ignored the common sense that she surely had. She had no idea how she had made a promise and still not fulfilled it. 

Stress was a powerful being. A friend that knocked onyour door, said they didn't want to be a burden. A friend that kicked down all your walls and set your hair on fire, simply because they could. Stress was a victim you didn't want to get rid of, a person you were supposed to be taking care of. 

Stress, had never really been her friend. 

It had only ever led her down the path of pain, of exhaustion, of 

Cannot, will not, would not. 

She wouldn't sleep. No, just like stress had said, sleep was an epiphany. 

“Here you go,” Spencer said, handing her a cup. She blinked rapidly, not even aware that he had walked back into the room. She grabbed the mug from him, her hand a deadweight carrying on to nothing. 

Spencer stared, he wasn't sure what else he could do. Y/N needed to get cleaned, she needed to eat, and she needed to sleep. And Spencer could only be responsible for two of those things. He couldn't control it all. 

Y/N took a sip of the broth, the liquid was both comforting and uncomfortable. After all, she didn't remember the last time she had eaten anything. 

“I studied for three days before I went to bed,” she finally whispered, her words making no sense to Spencer. But still, he would listen. “And then, I couldn't fall asleep. I can't remember how long I laid there, hoping that maybe I would finally close my eyes.” 

She almost wanted to sob against him, almost wanted to fall asleep in his arms. 

Almost almost almost. 

Inhale, exhale. 

“And then I made a mess, I was so angry, I just threw things around. I spent a day making a mess of everything, promising myself I wouldn't leave until I fell asleep. And then I went back to bed.” her voice was gravel against the air, her tears burning her skin as they fell. 

Spencer listened, not saying a word. 

“And then you showed up, right as I was sure it was time to fall in too deep.” 

And then the silence weighed in the air between them. Y/N was finished, and Spencer could finally start to make sense of what was going on. He could finally understand how a friend could become the worst betrayal. 

So, he moved a little closer, put his arm around her shoulder in a brief moment. 

And, as she barely ate, he held her close, reminding her he was there. 

Sleep was an epiphany, a strange thing that hung itself in the dark, wrapped itself in the sky at night when the world could barely breathe. 

It was a thing that could be blocked by the littlest of obstacles, a thing that she 

Could not, cannot, will not. 

“Come on Y/N,” Spencer whispered, noticing her eyes falling a little bit harder than they had before. He grabbed the mug from her hands and set it down on her coffee table. Taking her hand for the last time that night, he led her to her room. 

He helped her lay down, wrapped her in underneath the blankets. He held her shaking hand, rubbed her back until she was no longer quivering from the cold. 

He whispered words to her in the silence of her bedroom, reminding her that even with stress, even with all the things that she couldn't get out of her brain, he was there. And he still felt the same, still knew who she was to him. He let her know that he wasn't going to leave her alone again. 

wasn't going to walk away. 

He whispered words to her until her breathing evened out, and her eyes were shut. 

And then, he stayed up, making sure she was still breathing. Caring for her in the only way he knew how. 

And sleep, 

She could.

* 

my masterlist here. 

[mostlymovieswithmax]

Movies I watched in July

Once again I’m doing my monthly round-up of movies I’ve watched. This was a good month for the cinema getting back on track and seeing new releases including the new M. Night movie, Old and James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad. Pretty sure Marvel put out a new movie also. I’m hoping that this list can help in guiding a decision about what to watch (or what to avoid) and introduce people to movies they may otherwise not have heard of or bothered to see. These short reviews are my own subjective opinions on each individual movie and maybe a more informal approach to movie criticism can help include others who are just passing through. Here is every film I watched from the 1st to the 31st of July.

Bridesmaids (2011) - 4/10

Off to a good start. I won’t say Bridesmaids is a terrible movie but I don’t think I’m exactly the target audience. As far as I know, this is a beloved comedy but I just can’t get on board with all the boring, juvenile humour; with Maya Rudolph shitting in the street, with Rose Byrne and Kristen Wiig trying to one-up each other at a toast that went on forever, with Melissa McCarthy shitting in a sink… the conflict is so done to death and makes the movie feel unspecial. I do understand the appeal of the film, especially for women in that before this movie the likelihood of seeing something like this, where women play up the more crass and gross side of comedy, was probably few and far between. But the story is very tired and while I did appreciate some moments, namely a couple of decent jokes and some of the more intimate scenes, for the most part it felt like they wanted to corner a more quiet type of line delivery in a way that was supposed to be understated but very funny so as to not rely on over the top body language or musical cues, and it ended up being super dull.

Spectre (2015) - 7/10

As far as I can tell, a lot of people don’t like this instalment of the James Bond franchise… but I really enjoyed it! I’ve really taken a shine to these Daniel Craig-era Bond movies and while I can’t say any of them are the most amazing thing, I have a lot of fun with them. The biggest problem I have with Spectre is the villain being utterly pointless and uninteresting in basically every way. The idea of every villain Bond has fought before being tied to this one organisation controlled by this one guy is ridiculous, and what makes it worse is that the villain is barely in it! There’s so much that doesn’t come together in this but as it goes, I still had a really good time. Daniel Craig holds the whole thing together; he is excellent as 007 and the main reason I’m up for each of these movies is because of him. Sam Mendes directs again after the previous instalment and for what it’s worth I do think he does a good job with some of the action set pieces and the locations. I’m so ready for No Time To Die.

Shazam (2019) - 7/10

Shazam is a genuinely fun superhero movie that doesn’t take itself seriously at all. I was having a great time throughout and while it could conform to some of the same tropes we’re used to with these kinds of movies, it still remained playful and used the character of Shazam to his fullest potential in a way that showed an understanding of just how silly the idea of a kid who can turn into an adult and shoot lightning out of his hands is.

High School Musical (2006) - 6/10

So as you may or may not know, I co-host a podcast: The Sunday Movie Marathon. It’s a film podcast and every week I get together with my other co-hosts and watch movies. For episode 38, we watched the High School Musical trilogy. This first movie blew me away. I was really surprised with just how much fun I had, and if you want to hear more of my thoughts on the film, please listen to episode 38 of the podcast.

High School Musical 2 (2007) - 4/10

We then jumped into the second and while it’s certainly not as good as its predecessor, there are still some brilliant songs that manage to top the last movie. Again, more of what I have to say can be heard on episode 38 of the podcast.

High School Musical 3: Senior Year (2008) - 3/10

Senior Year was pretty hard to get through. I don’t remember it being as bad as it was, but then I didn’t really remember it anyway. It did however have one redeeming quality, which you can discover on episode 38 of the podcast.

The Piano Teacher (2001) - 9/10

What the fuuuckkkk. The Piano Teacher is horrendously affecting and I was so upset when it ended, maybe not because it’s not what I wanted but because it’s just so fucking dour and unrelenting. This is the second Haneke movie I’ve seen (after the original Funny Games) and I’m so impressed with how well executed it is. Following a woman who teaches piano, we get a glimpse into the life she lives, how sheltered she is from living with her mother at an age where you’d reasonably expect a person to be living alone or with a partner or friends (even going so far as to be sleeping in the same bed as her), and how repressed she is sexually. It’s clear she’s never experienced any kind of sexual interaction or romantic love with another person, so she goes out of her way to take control and make that happen. The upsetting nature of it comes from just what she does in pursuit of it or as a result of her repression, and what is done to her. It is by no means a movie to recommend to your parents but The Piano Teacher offers so much in terms of the ideas it presents (and I’ll admit there seems to be a lot more going on than I think I picked up on a first go round) about women in modern society, and about the portrayal of sex and expectations of people when it comes to how that is represented in a person’s character depending on their gender. I really enjoyed this movie but it is not for the faint of heart.

Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure (2011) - 1/10

My podcast co-hosts decided it’d be a right laugh to add Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure to this episode and that might have been a fun idea for them because they got to watch it together, but I was just watching it alone. Just a 24-year-old man watching Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure alone and having a miserable time, I might add. But for a short and sweet ramble on what we all thought, please listen to episode 38 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast.

Dr. No (1962) - 6/10

A lot of very iffy parts of this movie. A lot of discomfort arising from how black people are portrayed that really didn’t sit right with me. As far as a Bond movie goes, this first instalment in the series is one I’ve seen before and it’s not wholly engaging but it plants the seeds for the rest, with Sean Connery breathing life into the role and making an otherwise lacklustre plot bearable.

Black Widow (2021) - 6/10

I think probably the best part about Black Widow is the experience I had while watching it. It was great being back in the cinema with a couple of friends in a packed theatre. The energy was high and I’m sure for a lot of people, this is the first time they’d been to the cinema since Endgame. For what it’s worth, I did have a lot of fun with Black Widow and I’ve explained more of what I thought about the movie in episode 39 of the podcast.

The Climb (2020) - 10/10

The Climb was added to Now TV recently and I already knew I loved it, having seen it in an empty cinema theatre last year, which I had an absolute blast with. The Climb details the years of a rocky friendship told over scenes filmed as one-shots. Not only is the presentation something to gawk at, but the performances by the two leads playing these friends with a terrifically dysfunctional dynamic is truly captivating. They’re both trying to figure out their own lives and where one can come across as being rather selfish, the opposite is true in his counterpart, whom everyone loves. This is a truly funny and heartwarming movie with a lot to say about how we choose to live our lives and who we choose to be with. It’s a shame the distributors of The Climb didn’t do a very good job because if not for it being available on Now TV, it would be near impossible to watch without forking out more money than is necessary to purchase a film.

From Russia With Love (1963) - 5/10

The second Bond movie. I thought perhaps I’d change my mind on it with another watch, having seen it for the first time maybe a year ago. But no, it’s still largely boring and it treats women like absolute garbage. From Russia With Love is one of those movies I forget as I watch it, and I was trying very hard (in the middle of the day!) not to fall asleep.

The Good, The Bart, and The Loki (2021) - 1/10

I don't usually talk about the short films I watch but for this I'll make an exception. As we all should know, Disney owns The Simpsons now, through their acquisition of Fox, so, coupled with another of their properties, that being Marvel, they decided to make a six-minute animated film wherein Marvel’s Loki is stranded in Springfield. This felt as though it was a minute long due to the horrendously jarring pacing; it is a movie that feels adamant that it needs to exist, while trying as hard as it can to be over as soon as possible. It serves only to stare the audience directly in the face and say “look, characters from The Simpsons are dressed as Avengers”, shit out three credit scenes, then end before you’ve even processed the atrocity you just bore witness to.

Russian Ark (2002) - 8/10

For this next episode of the podcast, we watched a few Russian movies, starting with Russian Ark, a film shot completely in one take as the camera moves about a luxurious museum in a first-person perspective as this main character watches what is happening around him, seeing people moving about the place but unable to interact with them, guided only by another man who seems to be just slightly out of his own perception of reality. This is a tremendous feat in filmmaking and more can be heard about what I have to say in episode 39 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast.

Ivan’s Childhood (1962) - 7/10

For my own pick of Russian movies to discuss on the podcast, I chose the debut feature from one of my favourite directors, Andrei Tarkovsky. It’s amazing that while this is not his best film by far, Ivan’s Childhood is still such a stellar debut, jumping around in its timeline as it details a child’s experience in the second world war. Again, I do go into more depth in episode 39 of the podcast, so be sure to check that out.

Outlaw (2019) - 1/10

The third movie chosen for this marathon is apparently the fourth Russian LGBTQ+ movie ever made. I’m unsure of the ultimate goal of this movie but what seems to be clear is that it hates the LGBTQ+ community. This is perhaps the worst film we’ve discussed on the podcast to date, so listen to episode 39 to understand exactly why it’s such trash.

Almost Famous (2000) - 7/10

I too love heavy music and also studied journalism so it stands to reason that a movie about a teenager who makes his way onto a band tour, following them through America and interviewing them as they hang out and play shows is going to be a premise that resonates with me. This certainly did. I enjoyed Almost Famous a lot; this kid is living the dream and I was so along for the ride, seeing a lot of myself in what was being portrayed. That said, the story itself is at times a bit by the numbers and I really would’ve been more on board if the visual component was more interesting. For what it is, technically it’s fine enough but nothing in that department ever jumped out at me.

Minari (2021) - 8/10

It’s crazy that this didn’t get a theatrical run where I live in the UK. It feels as though I complain about film distribution all the time but I really don’t understand the process by which a movie gets no cinematic release and yet, months later will pop up on the front shelf of hmv, taking pride of place. But of course I got the blu-ray straight away. Minari has a lot to say about the immigrant experience, specifically in America as a family comes over from Korea and tries to start a business and make something of themselves. You get to see a lot of what you might not think twice about when you think about immigration: the hardship of coming from a place where you know everyone to somewhere rural and sparsely populated, having to make friends with locals and integrate within the community; the strain it can put on a family and on a marriage where this idea is presented about the importance of making it on your own in order to live and not just survive, while also taking into account why you’re doing it in the first place and the value you place on being part of a family that you decided to make because that was more important than money, than economy, than proving you were good enough to make it in a place that gave you very little advantage from the offset. This concept of the promised land, of the American dream is a construct. There are times when it’s not pretty, when you have no running water, or you’re in debt, or a family member is dying and it just feels like you’ve been dealt as bad a hand as you can get. But it is better to know you’re not facing all that alone.

Roma (2018) - 10/10

This was my recommendation for the podcast episode on Alfonso Cuarón movies. Roma is as beautiful as it is heart-wrenching and I would recommend listening to episode 40 of the podcast to find out more about my thoughts.

An American Werewolf In London (1981) - 8/10

In all fairness, London is enough to make anyone a little crazy at the best of times. An American Werewolf in London showcases some fantastically grotesque effects, akin to something like Carpenter’s The Thing, in showing the dead brought back to life and a horrifically gory transformation scene. Although the film is from the perspective of an American protagonist, directed also by an American, the depiction of British culture and climate is something I’ve not seen many films pull off quite so well, and I was pleasantly surprised at the more comedic tone the film has overall, which is something that works more in its favour than straight horror would.

The Party’s Just Beginning (2018) - 6/10

Karen Gillan’s directorial debut is… pretty good! There are a lot of ideas I like in this movie: a woman living life and through convenient circumstances, is confronted with death in many ways. Gillan obviously knows her homeland as well as she can, imbuing the whole thing with an intensely Scottish vibe (though maybe not in the same vein as something like Trainspotting) that makes it a bit more unique than a more run of the mill movie of this ilk, backed up in no small part by her own main performance. The plot itself is no great diversion from the kind of story I’m used to with these smaller movies and for something that’s trying to include messaging about transgender issues and suicide, it probably could have been handled better or done in a different way.

Solaris (1972) - 9/10

Another Tarkovsky joint, one I thought I’d revisit to see if there was indeed more to get out of it a second time. Well, it’s no surprise that yes, there was certainly more to get out of it. Solaris is a crazy trip of a movie and I would liken it to Kubrick’s 2001 in terms of how grand the scale of it feels. Yet this is a film that comes across as deeply personal, choosing to focus on a specific character as he goes to a space station to help those on board who are experiencing some kind of emotional crises, only to feel the effects of the planet, Solaris invading his own mind as it has the crew. To many, I can see this lengthy Russian sci-fi being a tad slow but my personal experience is one of deep engagement. Solaris pulls its viewer in a lot of different directions and it is always doing something unexpected in terms of where its narrative goes. There’s a lot to think about with the movie and thankfully it’s no chore to watch again.

Y Tu Mamá También (2001) - 9/10

Another recommendation for the podcast episode on Alfonso Cuarón movies. This is a very relaxed experience, following three young people as they go on a road trip, visit different places and have sex. Listen to episode 40 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast for more of my thoughts.

Children of Men (2006) - 10/10

My favourite Cuarón movie, one that never stops being tense as its characters are constantly moving towards the end goal. Set in a future where humans are infertile, the oldest living person is 18, and London is the last city in the world that’s still keeping it together, somewhat. This is masterclass filmmaking. Listen to episode 40 of the podcast for more insights.

Minority Report (2002) - 5/10

I’m really not the biggest fan of Spielberg… Minority Report is an interesting movie in terms of its concept of stopping crimes before they happen by way of prediction, but I just didn’t connect with the heart of it. The colouring is way too overexposed in a way that’s supposed to be eliciting a futuristic vibe but instead feels so early-2000’s in the worst way. My biggest problem with Minority Report is just how long it is, clocking in at two hours and twenty-five minutes which allows for a lot of meandering, all while never quite developing characters enough for you to care about.

Caché (2005) - 9/10

Oh god! Another Michael Haneke movie! Here we see a couple periodically sent video tapes featuring hours of footage of the outside of their house. The anxiety ratchets up and the mystery gets deeper with every minute. There’s always at least one moment in any of his films that have so far made me realise just how out of my depth I am. Caché is no exception, and I won’t spoil anything here because I think it’s better just to watch the movie and see for yourself. He is a director that wants the audience to know something and that something is never what is explicitly shown at face value; it is pressed into the fabric of the film - plainly evident, yet hidden. Caché is so stupidly clever in displaying its themes and messaging - making reference to the Siene Massacre of 1961 as well as a deeper study of colonialism - and there’s no way to change a single detail of it without risking the Jenga tower crumbling to the ground. It all works in tandem. It is passion and fury and haunting.

Coco (2017) - 7/10

Pixar had a string of around seven forgettable movies before this point so thankfully Coco emerged to show the company still had something good in them. Coco deals a lot with themes of death and legacy, remembering those who are gone in order to preserve them and while its plotting is quite basic and there are certainly moments that either drag or cannot escape the same Pixar formula, most of what the movie has to offer is a lot of fun, with creative, colourful animation and emotional beats that resonate the way they’re supposed to.

Incredibles 2 (2018) - 5/10

Oh, they almost had it! There's a lot here that could have been explored in far more interesting ways. Setting Incredibles 2 directly after the events of the first movie was not a good idea. If it had taken place five or ten years after, the characters could have been in different places in life and it would feel as though they'd actually changed and developed. But instead of trying to be a film that actually cares about its characters and the journeys they go on, a lot of the film is wrestling with the idea that Bob isn't supportive of his wife and Jack-Jack has to fight a raccoon… They have to shoehorn in a villain that in no way compares to the genius of the original. The ending of the original introduces another antagonist that gets wrapped up within this film's first ten minutes, except they don't catch him and he's never mentioned again. It's a real shame because the animation is fantastic and the acting is superb and there are great ideas sprinkled throughout. It just doesn't come together.

Toy Story 4 (2019) - 6/10

I was rather reluctant to watch Toy Story 4 because from the get-go I’m not really here for sequels being made just for the sake of it. Everyone loves Toy Story and making another one is a sure fire way to make money. This is the first time I’ve seen Toy Story 4 and for what it’s worth, I did enjoy it. The animation is immaculate and that alone feels like a huge flex from Pixar who tend to step up the game when it comes to animation in film, despite not having the best track record for films generally at this point. While it was nice to see these characters again, I found a lot of them to be side-lined (namely Buzz) in favour of a story that focuses mainly or entirely on Woody, who I just don’t like as much as in the previous movies. Generally the movie is good and decent enough but there’s no real antagonist and the plot is quite loose… it doesn’t feel as though it needed to be made from a story point of view.

Onward (2020) - 6/10

And with that I have seen every Pixar movie. And Onward is a fine one to go out on. While I don’t think it compares to the likes of earlier Pixar it’s still pretty fun. Or maybe I’m just a sucker for a medieval setting filled with bright colours and magic! Speaking of which, the animation was super and the medieval quest element is something that hooked me with the film. Again, plot-wise it does feel very familiar and I don’t know, maybe I’m past the point now of expecting Pixar to mix it up where their formula for story-telling is concerned but the movie is quite predictable. Nonetheless, while I’m not rushing back to see Onward I would hardly turn it off or refuse if someone wanted to watch it.

Old (2021) - 3/10

Oh boy! New M. Night movie dropped and my word, was it fun! For more of my thoughts on this… masterpiece (?) of a movie, please direct your attention to episode 41 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast.

T2 Trainspotting (2017) - 5/10

Trainspotting is perhaps one of my favourite movies and I had never bothered with the sequel, 20 years on, because the ending of that first movie is so conclusive. T2 felt more an excuse for these guys to get together again and in that, I probably would have preferred a couple of pictures on Twitter of the main cast and director, Danny Boyle having dinner or something. This is a fine movie - very arty in its presentation but meandering and dull in its story that doesn’t offer much in the way of proof that it had to exist.

Taste of Cherry (1997) - 9/10

What makes life worth living? This is a central question and theme of Taste of Cherry, and one that leaves such interpretation not only up to its central character but to the viewer as well. This film got me thinking about times in my life when I truly have had no answer to hard questions. Because it’s hard to convince people of things they are so adamantly against and harder still to rationalise what you believe if you’re not even entirely sure why you believe it in the first place. We are all of us alive and in recognising that, does that make it precious? And if indeed living is not a happy thing, why then should we fight so hard to preserve it? I felt upset as I watched this movie because I’ve been asked these kinds of questions before and it makes me feel stupid when I’m unable to answer. But the only real answer I can give is, everything. And if you can’t see the point then you’re not looking hard enough. Taste of Cherry is beautiful in its exploration of these topics and in its overall presentation, offering some of the best visuals in any movie I’ve seen - fitting for a feature with so much to say about the beauty of life - and an ending that as much pulls the rug out from under you as it does pull you out of the dark and make you realise just how lonely you’ve felt.

Bones (2001) - 2/10

Snoop Dogg is Jimmy Bones! This film is super funny but I’m not sure it’s trying to be and I really didn’t love it overall. But I do talk more in depth about it in episode 41 of the podcast.

The Duchess (2008) - 5/10

Another recommendation for the podcast. The Duchess was pretty much exactly what I thought it was going to be and there’s a lot to like about it but generally it’s a bit sparse. For more chat on the movie, listen to episode 41 of the podcast.

The Man With One Red Shoe (1985) - 1/10

This was another one for the podcast and man, was it awful. We had to watch it at 1.5x speed towards the end because it just wasn’t getting finished otherwise. To find out more, make sure to listen to episode 41 of the podcast.

The Emperor’s New Groove (2000) - 7/10

Pull the lever, Kronk! Haha! Slays me. I do quite miss this era of Disney, where the animation was hand-drawn and the stories were actually compelling and funny. The Emperor’s New Groove is vibrant, it’s got great characters and memorable moments that will forever be ingrained in the memory of culture. All in all, it’s just a solid flick that doesn’t waste time, developing the standard fall from glory type of arc but smoothly and in an entertaining way.

The Suicide Squad (2021) - 8/10

Oh, bloody hell! They actually made a good one! The Suicide Squad is not only better than the ‘Suicide Squad’ of 2016 in every way, it’s a genuinely great film! This time, James Gunn (director of Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy movies) is at the helm and it seems clear that Warner Bros. basically let him do what he wanted with the movie, as it doesn’t seem to bog itself down with the restrictions of a more family-friendly rating. The result of this is a far cleaner, colourful film with a clearer vision that takes from early Vietnam movies and uses that style to craft a superhero/villain movie that differentiates itself among the copious amount of existing films of the genre.      The Suicide Squad wastes very little time, introducing fun, crazy characters we’ve not seen on the big screen before and isn’t worried about killing a whole bunch of them, with standouts being Elba’s Bloodsport, Melchior’s Ratcatcher 2, Stallone’s King Shark (expertly rendered with fantastic visual effects), and Robbie’s returning interpretation of Harley Quinn.      A lot of Gunn’s trademark sense of humour is laced throughout and more often than not, it hits. The audience at the cinema were truly loving this movie and I’ll admit, I was right there with them. This mix of the gritty, gory and absurd is not something that should work as well as it does but the basic premise of the film is already so silly (and boy, do they know it) that it just works! Certainly one of the best DC movies since The Dark Knight and one I’d be more than happy to watch again. This is what the modern comic book movie should be: just balls to the wall fun!

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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[4ragon]

I'm not the original anonymous but I would extremely want to see that essay about Apollo's trust issues.

Also since I just finished Spirit of Justice, do you think Lamiroir ever told Trucy/Apollo about her and if so what would be their reactions?

Let’s see if I can write this up without crying again like I did on twitter.

So a while ago a friend of mine asked me why I liked Apollo, and I really couldn’t put my finger on it. I knew he was my favorite, but unlike Simon Blackquill, I hadn’t done that deep dive into figuring out why. I’d always just sort of loved him, and was never able to pinpoint the part that made me care about him so much. It drove me crazy, too, I love rambling about characters that I love, and I love writing from Apollo’s perspective more than anything. So why did I love him? Why did I care about him?

Well. I figured it out. I figured out my answer.

I think there are two things that characterize Apollo more than anything. One: He has trust issues. He genuinely believes that the people around him don’t give a shit about him. Especially after being betrayed multiple times in that first trial, he truly and deeply believes that the people around him are only trying to hurt him and is too scared to really believe that they care about him.

And two: He cares so much about the people around him that he constantly helps them anyway.

So like. And I won’t tag her because I don’t think she’d appreciate it, but I was watching the laquilasse AA4 stream last night, and the entire opening of Turnabout Corner is so striking to me, especially right after the end of Turnabout Trump. At the end of Turnabout Trump, Apollo’s trust and belief in Phoenix is finally and thoroughly shattered, and Apollo lashes out, punching Phoenix in the face. And for good reason! That was a huge breach of trust! Apollo literally did the exact thing that got Phoenix disbarred, namely present evidence that wasn’t real. Sure, they never exactly claimed it was the real deal, but Apollo didn’t even know it was faked, he just trusted Phoenix and this new piece of evidence and it almost fucked him over. It did sort of fuck him over, he did lose his job and his Mentor.

And then, Phoenix calls him and says that they’re in trouble, and Apollo doesn’t even question it, of course he shows up to help.

Like. You can feel how much he mistrusts Trucy on their first meeting, in everything he does and says. Especially when Trucy and Phoenix are in the same room, he’s actively thinking about how he doesn’t ‘buy their act’ when Phoenix is calling Trucy daughter-ly nicknames. And then, in a way, he’s kind of right? They guilt him into essentially being their errand boy, and I feel like they’re constantly and loudly using him throughout so much of the game.

And Apollo was there anyway. Apollo doesn’t even trust them and he’s still there the first instant Phoenix says he needs his help.

Like you can loudly do and say whatever you want and crush his dreams and betray his trust, and despite everything, there’s always that part of Apollo that desperately needs to help anyone who asks him. He can’t even bring himself to trust them, and he’s still crawling back the moment someone needs him, ready to let them disappoint him over again.

Like this struck me about Apollo from the moment I played AA4, but he’s so lonely? And desperate for connection? He cares so much about a world that has always and consistently never cared about him, and he just keeps caring and keeps caring even as that starry-eyed naivete is ripped away. And I feel like he just wants someone to care about him back, but never really able to believe that they do, because they never really seem to, because every time he allows himself to trust it’s just thrown back in his face so horribly.

Here’s an interesting thing I noticed: in Turnabout Trump, there’s a really interesting line. Phoenix has accused Kristoph of being the murderer, the extra person in the room. Kristoph takes the stand and claims to have witnessed the moment Phoenix committed the murder. And this exchange happens:

Apollo: There must have been someone else there at the moment of the crime!

Kristoph: Justice... I just said I saw no one. Not a soul.

Apollo: B-But, that goes against what Mr. Wright said!

Kristoph: Ah yes, this mysterious "fourth person"... ...who would conveniently be the "real killer", I suppose.

And this is well past the point where Phoenix has accused Kristoph of being that person. There’s no possibility at this point that they’re both innocent, it’s either one or the other. And Apollo is still so desperately trying to find a way for them both to be innocent, basically saying, “Just give me a fourth person and I’ll believe you.” And then Kristoph turned out to be a monster, and then Phoenix turned out to have betrayed Apollo from the start, and as far as Apollo is ever aware, none of the care from either of these men was ever real. He trusted, and he suffered the consequences.

But again. He’s still there. Someone pointed out a while ago, but Apollo stays. Apollo shows up to the Wright Talent Agency under false pretenses, and he complains and hems and haws, and he still stays. Why?

Phoenix and Trucy loudly manipulate him into working their case. They’re perfectly happy to flaunt that they’re basically tricking him. And he stays. Why?

Because Apollo can’t trust them, but he wants to so fucking bad. He doesn’t even seem to like Phoenix that much, but he wants that connection so fucking bad. He cares about them so much and he doesn’t believe for a second that they extend that feeling back at him, and he’s compelled to stay anyway.

He knows Trucy is practically using him, and he’s a sobbing mess when he thinks she was kidnapped for a few minutes. He’s cynical and mean and it’s all just to cover up the fact that he loves all these people around him with all his heart and they never once pay it back. And he comes back anyway. He’s like a fucking loyal dog that is never given enough affection and so he’s constantly trying harder and harder to earn that love while never believing he’ll ever really get it.

(Shit nope crying again)

It’s just so sad. And this is all without adding anything from the 3D games. The 3D games do build on this theme in one way or another, but from the get go, this is who Apollo is. A caring young man who is constantly punished for caring and yet can’t stop caring anyway.

We see it again in the 3D games. And I think part of why I don’t enjoy DD as much as SoJ is that DD doesn’t capture this mistrust the same way. It’s so surface level, that sense of betrayal and mistrust and anger he gets consumed by in that final case. And the worst part is it doesn’t have to be! There’s already that foundation! Apollo has been hurt already a million times. The only person he’s ever been able to trust, the only lifeline that’s kept him above water since he was a child, was Clay Terran, and now that was taken from him because he DARED to trust someone new. That’s so fucking compelling! But we never get that! We never get to see how Apollo is feeling. We get that he’s convinced Athena did the murder, but never really get into the Why, into the What This Means for Apollo.

It’s a bit better in SoJ. We see how far he’s come in terms of trusting people when he trusts in Trucy wholly and immediately in case two. And then, conversely, we see his mistrust and hurt when they introduce Dhurke into the mix. Apollo refuses point blank to believe that Dhurke had come to visit him, that Dhurke cared about him. Apollo demands to know why Dhurke was there, what Dhurke wanted, how Dhurke was going to use him. He’s been able to slowly start building that trust with people like Trucy, but he still cannot let himself trust again when Dhurke had already betrayed that trust.

I said it before, but as much as I hate the slapdash ways in which Capcom keeps throwing backstory at this boy, I love what the backstories are, because they build on this angry, cynical, lonely young man I care about so much. He’s been hurt and abandoned and used and betrayed since he was young, and being good never truly paid off for so long, but he kept doing it, he kept being good, he kept caring about people because he couldn’t help it, and kept hoping that maybe they could care back. And eventually I think it does start paying off for him. People do start caring about him. And I feel like it takes until around SoJ for him to start really believing that the people around him might care about him too.

Also congrats on finishing SoJ! Since there’s a very good chance that they might be announcing AA7 soon, I...hope? fear? expect? that they’ll touch on this then. However, I also worry that they’re going to botch it up so hard.

I know what I want to happen. I want Trucy to be angry. I want her to be angry at Lamiroir and Phoenix. She is constantly putting on a mask to try to make the people she loves happy, and I feel like this is a reasonable breaking point. After all, this is kind of the one thing that Phoenix hasn’t been honest with her about. She had a brother right there, and knew the whole time?! She had a mother there the whole time?! And no one bothered to tell her?! I think she’d be heartbroken, and I think she deserves to be angry. She’s been through so much, and they never give her time to really grieve or be upset.

I think Apollo would be ecstatic and angry at the same time. All he’s ever wanted was family, and now he does! He already loved Trucy, and thought Lamiroir was amazing, so I think he would be so happy to have that family back in his life. On the flip side, I do think he’d be angry at Phoenix, particularly for keeping it to himself before Lamiroir came into the picture, but I think if they talked it out, Apollo would come around to it and be able to forgive Phoenix.

[doctorofmagic]

My thoughts on Stephen and Carol

That was... unexpected, to say the least. Now I have this task to elaborate my feelings and opinions in a way that is paradoxically personal and rational at the same time.

Let’s begin.

Background

Carol and Stephen know each other for a very, very long time. Their first team-up happened in Marvel Team-Up v1 #76 (1978), when Silver Dagger captured Clea (again - and yes, I’ll talk about her later). Both Spider-Man and Ms. Marvel decided to offer a helping hand to Stephen.

Stephen also assisted Carol in a mystic issue, combining their powers in Ms. Marvel v2 #4-5 (2006). It’s from this very run I suspect Kelly Thompson pictured the idea of a relationship between them. Nothing official, but all it takes to assume there’s something else going on is a mere look.

It’s true they were on opposite sides post Civil War, but Carol decided to join the New Avengers later on, which also gives this relationship one more layer.

Lastly, Aaron’s Avengers also featured them on the same team for a while, in addition to the previous Captain Marvel v10 #6-7, in which they swapped bodies and Carol had a taste of Stephen’s pain. We’re also considering Captain Marvel v10 #19 because, at this point, it’s clear that Thompson had plans for them since 2019.

Captain Marvel #27

Since this a blog dedicated to Stephen, it’s hard for me not to look through his perspective. I know the story is about Carol and how she’s struggling to mourn. But you’re all here for him. So this is my very detailed yet not-so-reliable review about their moment together.

....

Stephen is so sweet, wtf.

First, he confesses that he lost a patient on the table, WHICH MEANS that Thompson is following the events of Surgeon Supreme. Honestly? It’s the first comic book to do so. But fine. I can live with that.

Man is not having a good day. In fact, it’s a terrible day, which probably justifies the end. Here we another glimpse that Stephen still can’t deal with loss. Life is so important to him precisely because he has lost so much. In addition, for a moment, he forgets that Carol isn’t supposed to be drinking. So he turns the whiskey into Seltzer. In the meantime, Carol can’t help but relate to him. I know, Carol, I’VE BEEN THERE.

There’s another moment that warmed my heart (in a sense because it’s quite sad when you think about it). Stephen asked Carol if he was bothering her. Do you have any idea how insecure Stephen is? BECAUSE HE IS. He’s always afraid of bothering people and that’s why he isolates himself. That’s why he’s always pushing people away. That’s why he’s so miserable and lonely.

Stephen is the sweetest, I can’t. He doesn’t even know his own favorite color. COME ON, STEPHEN.

I admit, though. They know how to flirt. Stephen is the kind of person who flirts through self-loathing, which is only natural given his mental health. And Carol... Well, she’s a girlboss. It’s perfect. Also he’s sassy. And do I love my sassy boi? Very much.

But here’s another sad thing. Stephen is not seen as a “good addiction”. He’s simply not the worse one. And he’s aware of that. Do you know how I know? I mean, despite all the countless articles I wrote about his self-loathing?

Because of this:

Yet again Stephen is aware that he used someone else to fill his void. And yet again, he was used. I can’t remember the last time Stephen had a healthy relationship. In fact, I can. It was with Linda, the Night Nurse. And that was a loooong time ago. I can’t even begin to comprehend how lonely he feels. And how miserable he feels whenever he fails to create a solid bond. Not only romantic ones, but also platonic relationships and friendships as well. I want him to be happy, it’s not too much. So why am I on the verge of tears?

Fine. I dissected the issue panel by panel, such is my commitment. But how I truly feel about them? Before answering that...

Things to be considered

Hear me out. There’s a very famous forbidden OTP party in Secret Wars: Secret Love #1. I can’t remember the author of the post but here, on this very hellsite, they confirmed some of those OTPs were ships that Marvel would never allow to happen because they’re, well, LGBTQIA ships. Cherik? Yes. Stony? Yes. Kate Bishop and America Chavez? Yes. CarolJess? YES. It’s the closest we’ll ever get to Marvel’s main characters to be queer.

I’m quite open to shipping Stephen with any character. However, I cannot look away when I’ve always rooted for Carol to be an LGBTQIA character. So, much to my surprise, as I was checking the spoilers on the hopes that Jess and Carol would finally have a revelation... STEPHEN HAPPENED. Trust me, Carol stans, this was as much unexpected to me as it was to you.

Truth be told, as a Stephen stan, I get tons of hate, because people mostly know him for his Illuminati era and how patronizing he behaves sometimes. But this is the reason why I made this blog. I want more people to know Stephen as deeply as I do. I know it’s frustrating. But I’m not the enemy. You have no idea how hard I try to find subtle words and clues that Stephen is not straight (because he isn’t, please).

So, after all is said and done... I still think they’re cute. And please, do not hand me down a guilty verdict yet.

I think of Stephen a lot on a daily basis, so it’s only natural to headcanon which heroes he has hooked up with throughout the years. And I swear to Vishanti, Carol crossed my mind a few times. I only figured it would never happen. But it did and now I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. But it’s okay. Because it’s not going to last - and I’ll explain why.

The future

Despite the fact that CarolJess should be a thing™, when it comes to canon, she’s deeply connected to Rhodes. Their relationship is so important to Carol that she sacrificed it out of love. She’s mourning. There’s this feeling of emptiness in her heart, pretty much similar to what Stephen experienced when Clea left him the first time.

They’ve met in a very delicate and frail state of mind and spirit. Some (most?) people do it, as an attempt to fill the void with anything or anyone that resembles affection. They’re aware of that.

That’s why I don’t think it will last. It’s not a relationship born through mutual growth, it’s a relationship born in mourning and sorrow.

You know me, mates. I’d do anything for Stephen’s happiness. But that’s not it. His happiness lies on a powerful sorceress from the Dark Dimension. You know her name. And Carol? Well, if not on Jess because Marvel desires to keep selling comic books to homophobes, then on Rhodes.

It feels just like my hook up list headcanon, only better because there’s angst. And boi, do I love angst?

That said... We have more issues coming, in addition to that beautiful cover for #29. Let’s wait and see. I do think Carol and Stephen share an angsty a beautiful background and that’s why I’d rather have them instead of Elektra. No offense, Elektra and Stephen are HOT. But I believe Carol and Stephen offer deeper layers. And this is why I made such a long post about them and didn’t do the same to Savage Avengers. No matter how hard I try to be rational, when it comes to Stephen, it’s just stronger than me.

PS: forgive me if I missed something, I’m truly exhausted but my mind wouldn’t allow me to rest until I made this post. Thank you for your support.