#though. i do not have great nor promising feelings about Ava finding out that it was technically by Vast's hands that sylph was harmed

[the-sunshine-dims]

I do love that the horrors are just straight up happening (everything. everything) and that for a good 90% of it Ava is just away building a carnival

She is the moment, oh the void sickness has spread more? Damn that sucks anyway she just made a sick ferris wheel though

Viviana kidnapped Sylph, died. And Sylph was left in a coma? Armor ran away? Cowabummer man she's busy living her best carnival architect dreams

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 4 - My Apologies

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None

WC - 2551

Square Filled - Fluff ( @girl-next-door-writes's Make Me Feel Bingo); Neighbours AU ( @anyfandomfluffbingo )

A/N - A new chapter! Hope you enjoy reading this!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 <33

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Click. Click. Click.

Adjusting her glasses on the nose, Y/N toyed around with the pen in hand, blankly staring at the kitchen wall. The empty sheet of paper sat there on the table, glaring at her. It was a bit old-school, considering her laptop was lying only a small distance away but this was how she preferred to work on her novel. It had nothing to do with her laziness.

The fear of another rejection was weighing heavily on her and she was really close to giving up on her dream of being an actually published writer. However, after her little pep talk to herself last night, she had this new indomitable spirit ignited inside her. Though that spirit was fading away with every passing minute now.

Y/N dropped the pen on the table with a huff, its metallic body hitting the wooden surface of the table as she got up to make herself a cup of coffee. Now, she might not want to admit it, but her novel wasn't the only thing that was troubling her.

A stranger’s callous comments should never hurt so much but when Dean called her stupid or rather a brainless idiot, for some reason, Y/N took it to the heart. She had then come to the conclusion that he was an ass and it was futile to even try and start a healthy relationship, but the bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter in front of her changed every perception of him yet again.

Ms. L/N, I didn't have any intentions of humiliating you. I'm really sorry. I hope you accept this small token of apology.

Walking up to the counter, Y/N picked up the small, white card and read the handwritten apology for the hundredth time that day. She didn't know if she should be impressed at his tacky methods of apologies or be annoyed at him for wrecking her mental sanity. Shaking off her thoughts, she was just about to dive back right into her writing when the coffee machine beeped.

“This is not gonna work.” She sighed, pouring one cup of the warm liquid and bringing it close to her lips. After finishing her drink, she decided to go out on a walk to clear her head but just as she stepped out of her house, she heard soft pitter patters of feet out in the hallway before a small figure of a hazel-eyed girl came into her sight.

Y/N tilted her head in confusion as the little girl ran in the halls. She looked around for her parents, but didn't see anyone else.

“Hey, pretty girl. What are you doing out here all alone?” She called out to the girl, making her stop in her tracks and look at Y/N.

“Daddy says not to talk to strangers.” She said while she cautiously approached the woman anyway.

“Where's your Dad?" She smiled softly, " I'm Y/N. See now you know me.”

“Daddy's-”

“I told you to stay inside, babygirl.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the all too familiar voice of her ridiculously handsome neighbor before the tall figure of the man himself appeared in front of her. His eyes were focused on the little girl as he walked up to her. Dean crouched down to her height, hands gently placed on her shoulders. “Never go anywhere alone again. Alright?”

Does he have a daughter?

But she had never seen the girl before. Y/N was in awe as she saw the grumpy facade fade away when he talked with her. She realised that there were so many things about Dean that she truly didn't know. Maybe she had, after all, misjudged him on some petty conflicts.

“At least your kid was within the building.” Y/N said.

“Ms. L/N.” Dean regarded and turned to look at her. He shuffled on his feet which made Y/N raise a curious brow.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester.” A look of guilt with an underlying hurt flashed in his eyes when she didn't acknowledge him by his first name. He was very sure his effort at a decent apology had been appalling and it made him wince, thinking of the awfully cringy card he had curated by his own hand to convey his regrets.

“She is pwetty.” The girl tapped his knee, attracting his attention while looking at Y/N.

“Y-yeah.” Heat crept up Y/N’s neck when she heard Dean agree with the kid. A moment of awkward silence passed as Dean looked back up at the woman, this time his gaze not faltering making the woman’s cheeks warm up even more. “She is pretty, baby.”

“You are prettier. Look at you! You look absolutely stunning in that dress and hair!” Y/N jumped in deciding to not make the situation more awkward. She hoped that Dean was maintaining his usual poker face, but instead, the corner of his lips tugged up in a little smile as the girl diverted her attention to Y/N.

“Uncle De did my hair.” She said proudly and Y/N stared at Dean. Uncle De? Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought of him to be such a gentle soul. She now remembered that the last time she saw Dean, he had told her about meeting up with his brother.

“He did an excellent job, I see.” The woman said as Dean got up and stood up straight. “What's your name, pretty girl?” She looked up at Dean, as he nodded his head.

“Ava.” She muttered.

“So Ava, remember next time to not go anywhere without Uncle De’s permission. Promise?” Y/N said and walked up closer to the two humans as Ava nodded her head agreeing to her proposition, all the while Dean’s eyes trailed along the woman's every movement. He was the best in his profession and he excelled at reading his client's body languages to figure out conflict, but Y/N was like a puzzle to him right now so he decided to take matters in his own hands.

“I hope you liked the flowers.” There it was, subtle, but at least he owned up to his apology. Y/N observed him for a moment, watching as he was nervously wringing his hands together. He seemed nervous around her. This wasn't the Dean Winchester she had come to know in the last few, quite unfortunate encounters.

“I did.” Y/N wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. He tightly held Ava’s hand to not let her out of his sight.

“De-” she pouted, “Uncle De!” The said man looked down at his niece.

“Stay put for a moment, babygirl. Uncle De needs to talk to this lovely young lady. Then we can go and get ice cream, like I had promised.” He said, before looking up at Y/N. “Listen, I'm sorry for what happened that day. I did not-” Sighing, Dean said before he was unceremoniously cut off by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

His face scrunched up as he stared at his phone screen. Sucking in a deep breath, he let the phone ring until the caller reached the voicemail. He chewed on his plump, pink lip when his phone lit up with a voice message. Y/N had an instinct he was avoiding someone, maybe an ex. Dean must have had some girlfriends.

“I'm sorry, I was saying-” the phone rang again and Dean was so close to throwing the little device against the wall.

“I think you should take that, which seems important. And I would leave you with your work things. I was going out for a walk anyway. Have a good day, Winchester.” Y/N said and walked right past the man.

“Hold up!” Y/N stopped walking before turning around to face the lawyer. “I never had the intention of hurting you.”

“Then you know the story wrong.” She said, shrugging

“Well if we study closely, the scarecrow was actually very intelligent but he never realised it.” Dean shrugged.

“So you're saying that I act stupid.” This time Y/N wasn't offended but she liked watching him squirm.

“N-no I didn't mean that-” He struggled to come up with yet another apology. “Can we drop the subject of the scarecrow? Let's just pretend the story doesn't exist in this context.” Y/N chuckled at the poor man, making him shake his head lightly.

“It's okay, Dean. Go, get the kid some ice cream.” She smiled.

“Join me for a drink sometime.” Dean blurted out without thinking. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he stared at Y/N, trying to gauge her reaction.

“I never pegged you for a guy to ask me for a drink.” She raised a brow at him.

“The card and flowers were pretty lame, I agree…but I do owe you a drink, or maybe a coffee, whatever you prefer.” He said. He knew his method of apologising was crappy but at that moment it was the best he could come up with. Dean never was a man of many words and he sucked at expressing his feelings so it was near impossible for him to think of anything better than this, but now he realised it would have been much better if he would have just knocked on her door.

“Sure.” Y/N nodded.

“How does tomorrow sound? Ava will be back with my brother by then. As you can see I kind of have my hands full right now.” He smiled. Y/N pondered over the sudden change in her hot neighbour’s behaviour. If this was the way Dean chose to open up to her, then so be it.

“Tomorrow sounds good,” she smiled back.

“G-great then!” Heat crept up his neck as he looked at Ava, a bit flustered. He didn't know what her deal was but she always rendered him speechless or stumbled on his own words, trying to form a good comeback. Y/N had an effect on him that neither Jo nor Lisa had ever had on him. Her perky attitude made him want to spend any time he got with her. They were poles apart but Dean found a sense of familiarity in her.

“I won't hold back you two any longer.” Crouching in front of the girl and ruffling her brown hair, Y/N said, “Don't settle with anything less than a triple scoop.”

“Don't give her any ideas,” Dean teasingly warned, “I have no idea how to deal with a kid on a sugar rush.”

“Then don't shy away from asking for a little help. I had to babysit my cousin's kids many times. I know a thing or two about babysitting,” Y/N said.

“I'll definitely take you up on that if things get out of hand.” He said, “See you tomorrow night. Have a good day, Ms. L/N.” He grabbed Ava’s hands tightly, pulling her close as he started to walk towards the elevator. Y/N shook her head, an amused laugh leaving her lips. Some things never change.

“I think the cupcakes worked their magic!” Dean teased, sharing a laugh with Y/N over a glass of Manhattan. This was the first time she had ever seen him laugh. Apparently, he was a happy drunk.

“Some roots of jasmine, rose thorns, a pinch of pearl dust and voila! You have the friendship potion,” She barely made it through with a straight face before bursting out in fits of laughter.

“I had a feeling that there was some kind of sorcery involved.” He said, signalling for another glass for both of them.

“This one’s on me,” Y/N said, making Dean scrunch up his face in an adorable pout.

“No it's not. I'm payin’, I was the one who asked you out.” His eyes immediately widened when he realised what slipped out through his mouth. “Not like an ‘asking out’ asking out. This is-” Dean waved at the space between them “-just a gesture of goodwill.”

“You're adorable.” Y/N giggled.

“What?”

“I know this isn't a date. Just two friends hanging out on a Sunday night.” She shook her head, chuckling as the man picked up his refilled glass and took a sip.

Even if Y/N said it was platonic, the ungodly amount of time she had spent in front of her closet to pick out a perfect outfit would definitely make her rethink her answer. She had skimmed through her closet, trying to find the dress that said ‘just friends’ but to her all the dresses she owned screamed ‘I want you to fuck me’.

Nevertheless, she had settled on a simple pair of blue jeans and a crop top. But she had felt seriously underdressed when she knocked on Dean's door and it had opened to reveal the man in a jeans t-shirt and black slacks, staring at her with a smile on his face.

“Well duh! My first impression of you kinda sucked.” Y/N said.

“I did warm up to ya, didn't I?” Dean chuckled. “Another round?”

“Nuh-uh. Sparkling water for me. I don't want to show up at work tomorrow puking my guts out. And that while nursing a painful hangover? No thanks” She laughed.

“You're no fun!” He chuckled with her.

“I am no fun? What about you, Mr. Turn-down-the-volume?” She said as the bartender pushed a glass of water towards her and poured out another to the man.

“You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?” He shook his head.

“Never.”

A moment of silence passed as Y/N looked across the nightclub buzzing with people just like any other Sunday night. She never thought Dean would be the person to even know about nightclubs around the city but guess she didn't know him that well.

“You wanna head back home? I can walk with you to your place, be all gentlemanly,” he smirked. She liked this drunk version of Dean. He was happier, far more cheesy and funnier than his workaholic version.

“Of course. It's not like we live in the same apartment,” she teased. “Hey, you wanna hit the dance floor before we go back?”

His eyes widened at her sudden question. “No, I don't dance.” He shook his head furiously, clearly stating that dancing was definitely not on his agenda.

“Oh come on, don't be shy.” She said.

“Nope.”

“Fine! You are no fun!” She rolled her eyes, “Let's get outta here then.”

The walk back to their apartment was filled with drunken giggles and cheesy banter. “I had a fun time tonight. Apologies accepted.” Y/N said, unlocking the door to her home.

“Glad to know that. I couldn't have lived knowing you hate me,” Dean teased, “I had a good time as well. I really needed a break from work.”

“So you do accept that you work too much?”

“Agree to disagree.” He shrugged, leaning against the doorway, “Night, Y/N.”

She walked up to the man and pecked his cheek, making his eyes go wide at the sudden affection. He swallowed hard as she stared up at him with hooded eyes. Patting his arms lightly, she said, “Night, Dean, see you in the morning.”

“Only if you're running late.”

Chapter 5

Feedback is highly appreciated!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting it Back Together Chapter 4

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn, touch starved

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere

This had not been part of his plan, Adam thought as he switched on a lamp and cringed at the disaster that was his livingroom. Instruments and musical equipment were strewn all over the place, wires and amps just waiting to trip the unwary or uncoordinated. Which, by everything he had observed so far, definitely included his companion.

"Sorry for the mess," he mumbled, clearing a path to the sofa with his foot.

"Don't be," Lilly smiled, looking around with avid interest. "It's exactly how I envisioned it!"

"Great," Adam rolled his eyes.

"Not that I've been envisioning it," she blurted out, face turning scarlet. "I just meant... well, if I thought about it at all, which I only did because I could hear you so clearly over here... and what with all the clattering around..."

"You expected it to be a wreck," he finished for her as he swept a collection of books off of the ancient sofa and onto the floor.

"It's cozy," she said lamely.

"If you say so. Sorry I don't have anything to offer you except water to drink. I don't entertain. Ever."

"Water would be perfect," she smiled encouragingly at him, as though he were a toddler displaying acceptable manners in company.

Which, he supposed, was about right. Fuck, he wasn't even sure if the water here was potable. He had never drank any of it, of course. He only used the kitchen sink to wash the cordial glasses from which he drank his blood. Fetching a slightly larger cup that he had found in the cupboard when he moved in and giving it a quick clean, Adam let the water run for a few minutes to help clear out the pipes. It didn't look too contaminated; he hoped he was not about to poison her.

"Here," he walked back to the livingroom and thrust the glass into her hand. "No ice, freezer doesn't work."

"I'd say you should call the super, but I guess that doesn't work if you're the owner."

"It doesn't really bother me," he replied with a shrug. "I'll fix it myself eventually."

"After all, you don't have guests," she said impishly.

"Right."

"Perfectly drinkable," she judged after taking a sip from the cup.

"Good. Now, let me see if I can find that tape player."

That was what she was doing here, after all. Why his invitation had popped out he could not fathom, much less how he had ended up bringing her back here that very night. At least this way he could limit the time he spent with her, he supposed. It was already two in the morning; not long until the sun began to approach the horizon and he would be forced to show her the door whether he wanted to or not.

Glancing over to where she lounged on his sofa, he was not so sure what the decision would be on that one. Her legs, stretched out on the cushion, were quite shapely despite her petite stature, and the red top just invited one to run their hands over it to feel the silky material and the lush curves underneath. And then, of course, there was her neck, long and white and begging to be bitten.

Adam swallowed and turned away. He  could not help but think of the last time he had had a mortal in his home, though it had not been this one. Ian, his supplier of instruments and all around procurer had been almost a friend, if a zombie could ever be thought so. He was sweet and harmless, and Adam had a genuine affection for him in a distant sort of way. It had been a horrid shock to walk into the room one night after sun set and see the young man sitting lifeless on the couch, blood drained from his body and drying on the face of Ava, Eve's feral sister.

Adam had always hated Ava, and that night had been the last straw. It was also the beginning of the end to life as he knew it. Within hours he had tossed her out on her skinny ass, disposed of poor Ian's body, and was on a flight with Eve to Tangier, where she was destined to drink tainted blood and die. All because Ava had sucked Ian dry. All the more reason to hate his late wife's bitch of a sister.

Still, looking at Lilly stretching herself out, he could understand a little better how Ian had come to die. Ava had whined to them about how cute he had been, how she couldn't resist. At the time he had scorned such a thing as a pathetic lack of self control. He still did to a large extent, but at last he knew the urge. Not just the urge to feed, an impulse they all shared, but an urge to take a human in such an intimate embrace. When Eve was alive it would never have occurred to him, he had had her for such connections, he needed no one else. Now though, alone and untouched for years, he longed to feel Lilly's smooth skin against his mouth, to hear her gasp and sigh as he ran his lips over her neck.

Not that he would ever drain her, of course. He was not such a monster. He would not even drink from her. To do so would expose his true nature, and that would mean relocating again, as well as putting her life in danger.

No, he would do her this one favor, and then he would return to seclusion. He would make sure that he left through the basement when absolutely necessary so that she did not hear him, would otherwise stay inside so that their paths would cease to cross. It would be better for them both.

"Here it is," he mumbled with satisfaction. "Give me a moment to set it up."

"Take your time," she said happily.

Glancing over, Adam saw that she had given up lounging and was now coiling up all of guitar cables into neat rounds. He had to admit that she did a good job - they were neither too tight so as to damage the wires nor too loose so as to unravel as soon as she walked away. With a shrug of his shoulders he allowed her to continue. The cables could use sorting, and he was certainly not inclined to the task.

"Sorry," she said with a blush as she caught him staring. "I warned you, I fidget. I seem to always need something to do with my hands."

He could think of several things she could do to keep her hands busy, he thought. God, what was wrong with him? Was he really so touch starved?

"Where's the tape?" he finally asked

She leapt up from where she had been sitting, breasts bouncing as she did, and almost reverently handed him the box containing her Grandmother's recordings. Adam turned back around, discreetly adjusting himself as he did. He carefully placed the spool in his machine, grateful for something to occupy him until he got himself under control.

After a short series of clicks and static while the tape began to unreel, a scratchy blare of a trumpet began to waft through the air, soon joined by a piano and soft brushes on drums. Adam was taken back to a different era. A time when he had circulated more among the general population of humans. Women wore dresses and hats, men suits and ties, and a sophisticated style permeated the music scene. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed that era, the end of the 40s and beginning of the 50s. Between his excitement at the recent technological advances and his nostalgia for the old days of the height of classical composition, Adam sometimes forgot the joy and sorrow, the feeling that jazz could evoke.

When the voice, low, smooth, and heavy with emotion, slid in like honey, he looked instinctively to Lilly. Her mouth was open, shaped with a hint of smile at the corners. Her eyes blinked quickly, struggling he was sure to hold back tears. This would be the first time, he supposed, that he had heard her Grandmother sing since she had died. Even without the connection to the woman, Adam himself was moved by the song. He was struck by how strong Lilly was being, listening and holding back her tears.

Moving one step towards her, Adam opened his arms. With a catch of indrawn breath Lilly took two steps of her own and for the second time buried her face against his chest. It was so different thought, he thought as his arms came around her. That first night on the roof, she had been some annoying zombie woman, pushing herself in where she was not wanted. Her blubbering all over him had been almost violent in the way she sobbed and clutched at him. Now, she simply melted against him, and he gently stroked her back as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

The song ended and another began, this one he remembered. It had been a huge hit, still was sung every so often, covered by lesser vocalists. Lilly's Grandmother was not one of those. She was a true artist.

"There's a somebody I'm longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be Someone to watch over me..."

As the music continued, Adam found himself swaying to it, bringing Lilly along with him. She was stiff at first in his arms when he began to dance with her, but when she realized what he was doing she relaxed and allowed herself to feel the rhythm. She would never be a natural dancer, and she was clearly still in her head, but there was something sweet about that. She tried so hard at everything. Tried to be strong, tried to keep busy, tried to learn, tried to be happy.

When was the last time he had been happy, Adam wondered. When was the last time he had even tried? Not since Eve, certainly. Before that, he was unsure. There were moments, of course, even at the end with her when he had been so. He loved her with an enduring passion. But he had been going through the motions for decades, shutting himself off from the world around him. Ian had been practically his only connection to it.

Pulling back a bit, he spun Lilly about and half smiled at her. It felt strange to smile even that much. Muscles he had not used in forever only half remembered how to work. He had always had a brooding nature, but of late it had become harsh even for him.

They kept dancing until the tape ended, adjusting to the tempo and style of each song. It felt so good to lose himself in someone else's music for a change. To hold someone, to connect with someone. She was right, what she had said earlier that night. Music required no discussion, no messy dialogue. You could just feel it, let it move through you. And where there was someone else there, someone who even if not a musician herself clearly had an ear and more to the point a soul for it, to share it with it could be a profound experience.

When at last the song ended, Adam and Lilly's eyes met and something deeper than a smile passed between them. It was sad and joyful and required no words. They both collapsed on the sofa, Adam pulling her into the crook of his arm as he sat sprawled and tired. Lilly's legs were curled under her and she rested her head against his chest. He could feel the rise and fall of breathing, fast at first from the exertion of dancing, begin to slow. It was some time later that he realized she had fallen asleep on him.

How strange, he thought, that she should be so comfortable with him that she could so easily drift off. He had perfected the art of scaring people off, and yet this tiny woman had tenaciously refused to be run off. She seemed to trust him, even, had shared something deeply personal with him.

The sun would be up soon. He should wake her, he knew. Yet, looking at how peaceful she looked he could not bring himself to do so. Gently, Adam slid out from beneath her, lowering her head down onto a convenient throw pillow. He foraged about until he found a blanket on an armchair and draped it over her, tucking her in. Lilly sighed and burrowed deeper into the sofa, a light sigh escaping her lips.

Taking one last look, he made sure the curtains were drawn, turned off the light, and headed to his bedroom. Things would go back to normal tomorrow; they had too. But let them both sleep peacefully today.

***

Lilly scrunched her eyes and stretched a bit, trying to wriggle away from a hard lump she could feel under her left side. What had she left on her bed that was poking into her with such insistency. Feeling under her blindly, she pulled out something long and wooden. A drumstick? How on earth had that ended up in her bed? And why did the mattress feel like velvet?

As she emerged from the fog of sleep, Lilly came to the sudden realization that she was not, in fact, in her own bed.

Sitting up, she felt a smile cross her face that was lit from within. Last night had been a good night. She had reconnected with some old friends, and maybe even made a new one. Twenty-four hours ago Lilly would have thought the possibility of a friendship with Adam a fantasy at best, delusion more likely. And yet he had approached her, he had accepted her invitation to the club, and he had issued an invitation of his own that led her back to his apartment.

Oh, not that Lilly was crazy enough to think that he meant anything more by it than friendship. She was not the type of woman that brooding musicians stayed up composing love songs for. She was the type who hounded them with her insistent chirping until they finally relented and occasionally allowed them inside, like the mangy cat you gave milk to once who would forever after haunted your door. She was fine with that, she told herself. He had been a friend when she needed one, lending her an arm to dance with and a shoulder to lean on when she needed it most.

He had also, it seemed from the blanket draped around her, tucked her in. Her grin widened. Despite how hard he tried to cultivate his grumpy persona, Adam had could not hide the sweet kindness in his nature from her any longer. She had felt it as he had held her last night, and later when they danced.

That had been something she would not soon forget. Lilly was too tense as a rule to be graceful, but Adam was such a strong leader that she had stopped worrying about his poor toes and let herself simply enjoy. His body had been a continuation of the music, feeling it to the tips of his fingers and the ends of his hair it seemed. All loose and yet firm where his hand lay on her back, he had guided her flawlessly, swaying to the sound.

All in all, it had been a far better send off for her grandmother than the stuffy funeral planned by her father. The old woman would have enjoyed last night, Lilly knew, and she would have enjoyed Adam. Beyond the shared love of music, his sharp tongue and kind heart would have been just to her liking.

Not wanting to send her mind down fruitless paths, Lilly stood up to get a better look at the room. It really was exactly how she had imagined it, if not more so. Every flat surface from the floor to the mismatched furniture was covered in instruments, sound equipment, mechanisms for which she had no names, and the odd notebook or staff paper. Three of the walls were covered in sound proofing foam, the third in an odd collection of portraits. Looking at them, Lilly found scientists, authors, artists, philosophers, all sorts of creative and intellectual types. She made a game of naming them all, only coming up blank on two (although three more were guesses), and trying to decipher meaning from who was present and who absent. Somewhere in there, she was sure, was the secret to his mind's inner working.

Part way through her perusal, Lilly realized that nature was calling. Assuming the layout to his home was similar to hers, she made her way as quietly as she could up the creaky staircase. Once at the top, she was greeted with a long hallway, three doors on each side.

The first door she tried opened into a room dominated by a large drum kit. Scattered about around it were a music store's worth of other percussive instruments. Some day, she thought, she would like to come back and play in here, to see if she could bang out some of her inner frustration. It must be as good as therapy in some ways!

As she opened the second door an avalanche of what she thought were rugs or tapestries of some sort threatened to come spilling out and bury her. She quickly leaned all of her weight against it to close it shut again, hoping she hadn't disturbed anything expensive and moved on to the third door.

Lilly forgot how to breath as she opened it. There, spread out on a large bed covered in pillows, lay Adam, completely naked.

Lilly knew she needed to quickly exit, closing the door behind her, but she could not seem to make her limbs obey her. If Michelangelo had wanted a model for his David, he could have used him, she thought. Adam lay on his stomach, face buried in a pillow. While this luckily or unfortunately (she could not decide) preserved some of his modesty, there was still quite a bit on display to appreciate.

Broad, well muscled shoulders and back gleamed pale, contrasting against the dark of his hair where it fell. His waist segued gorgeously into a pair of slender hips and - dear lord, there should be a law! - a perfectly firm and round ass that Lilly would have given her right hand to squeeze. Long, lean legs seemed to go on for days, and actually fell off the bed before reaching his gigantic feet. A mischievous part of Lilly felt the urge to reach out and tickle them, and she actively clasped her hands behind her back to keep from acting on this awful impulse.

Had she really tried to convince herself, just moments before, that she was perfectly happy to just be his friend? If so, she had been deluding herself. Oh, she would take what she could get, but Lilly knew in that moment that she would go to her grave ruined for anyone else.

As she stood staring unabashedly at him, Adam mumbled something incomprehensible into the pillow. Lilly started to make for the door, but his head turned towards her and she realized he was still asleep. Cautiously, she lingered a moment longer, watching as he reached out to the other side of the bed, as though searching for something not there.

"Eve," he said, clearly this time. "Baby, I miss you."

Someone had reached into Lilly's chest and crushed her heart between their fist.

She had no idea why it had never occurred to her that he might have a lover, or even a wife. He was beyond gorgeous, brilliantly talented, and obviously had money. Anyone would want him. Why should she assume that just because there was no woman here at this moment he was single?

And yet, clearly, she had. The raw emotion in his voice, the need as he called the woman's name had been all it took to destroy her heart.

Following the direction he was facing, Lilly realized that in this room of dirty laundry and bedding, one picture stood out like a beacon. Placed on the table next to the bed where it could clearly be seen was a photo of Adam and a woman of ethereal beauty. She was not "pretty" in a conventional way, but had something far beyond that. Almost as tall as he was, and perhaps even paler, she was stunning in a cream colored suite with yellow gold hair. Adam had his arms twined around her center, and looked at her with such love in his eyes that it was unmistakable.

Forgetting her need for the bathroom, Lilly bolted out of the room and down the stairs. She needed to get out of here. Away from the perfect man who she was afraid she had already fallen for and the perfect woman who was clearly everything Lilly was not. Including it now became clear, the one that Adam wanted.

[punksarahreese]

“You had a nightmare, tell me what it was about so I can fix it.” + reesker (any au)

Night Terror | Bloodletting

Occult!au; Sarah’s past continues to haunt her and Ava wishes she could take it all away

Prompt: “you had a nightmare, tell me what it was about so I can fix it.”

Word count: 1768

CW: nightmares, crying, mention of Sarah’s trauma (gun tw, death tw, murder tw), Ava makes death threats 🤭

***

The breeze was warm as it ruffled through the trees, making the wind chimes hanging from the balcony jingle musically. Ava had left the glass doors open, letting the wind and warm air into the study they were occupying. Barely evening, the July sun was still warming the surrounding forest and its inhabitants. Even still, Ava was the only one awake, the human on the lounge beside her having fallen asleep over an hour before.

Sarah had rested her head in Ava’s lap, patting down the silky fabric of her dress so it cradled her head better. Ava never complained, though she did tease Sarah about her mortal need for sleep. Sarah argued that she deserved a nap, especially after chasing Estia through the woods all afternoon, listening for the immortal child’s excited giggles from the trees to give away her position. Really, Ava quite enjoyed when the woman would cuddle up to her like this, no hint of fear or caution when Sarah settled down and sighed happily when Ava ran a gentle hand through her hair.

So that’s why Ava remained unmoving for so many hours, just soaking up the now familiar comfort of her presence and letting her mind wander. It was easy for her, staying so still and finding peace in the stillness. Over a century of life later, the vampire learned to welcome any peace and quiet, since it seemed to be hard to come by in any era. Plus, she happened to be in great company; which certainly helped the situation.

Alas, the peace and quiet never lasted. It’s end was rather abrupt though, not expected by any party, and it had the hair on the back of Ava’s neck rising. As quickly as she had been sound asleep, comfortable and silent, Sarah started to cry. It wasn’t even soft whimpers or a single tear, no it was the whole waterworks. Her thin body started to shake, disturbing the tight curls that had been spread out on Ava’s lap like a fan. Her pleading words were barely intelligible, or at least they would be on a human scale, yet the other woman heard her fine.

“No,” her voice broke and shook even in sleep, “L-leave her… alone! Mom!”

Had it still had a rhythm, Ava’s heart may have skipped at the pain in her human’s tone. She hated the sound, the way fear twisted her favourite sound into such a heartbreaking one. Unconsciousness had always been the one escape from the perils of mortal trauma, in Ava’s experience, yet it seemed that Sarah couldn’t even escape it in rest.

The scream that followed was piercing and had Ava shaking her awake, unable to bear the thought of her being scared any longer. She leaned closer to try to wake her, repeating her name and brushing large tears off her cheeks. Sarah’s eyes opened, big and fearful, yet she could see that they didn’t quite reach Ava’s gaze. She was still paralyzed by whatever had plagued her unconscious, making the other woman frown. Even when Ava pulled her up into a sitting position, hoping it would wake her more, all Sarah could do was cry.

“Sarah, you’re safe,” she spoke as one would to an injured animal; calm and cautious. She waited a moment, the only sound Sarah’s half choked sobs. A gentle and cold hand on her cheek caught her attention a bit and Ava could almost see the mental battle that was raging in an attempt to distinguish reality from memory.

“Darling, it’s Ava,” she prompted patiently, “I’ve got you, okay?”

It was those words that had Sarah slumping forward, tears falling a bit harder as she sobbed in relief. The blonde caught her before she fell completely, strong arms drawing her close immediately. Neither spoke for a while, since Ava didn’t wish to startle her any further. Instead they stayed like that, rocking lightly as Ava tried to soothe her similar to how she used to calm Estia during bad memories of her turning. It was a comfort she vaguely remembered her mother doing with her and Anikka as well, a gentle swaying to coax them back to reality if dreams felt too real.

It took quite some time but eventually Sarah started to relax, first her shoulders slumping and the sobs ebbed away to sniffles and the occasional whimper. Ava kept holding her, whispering a reassurance with any sound the human made. This kind of comfort had been scarce for the both of them for a very long time, so it felt incredibly sacred in that moment. Despite differences and the span of life, the two had found each other in exactly the way they both needed and Ava was happy to hold Sarah like this for as long as she needed. She was her human, her darling, and she silently vowed to keep her safe and happy with all her might.

When she felt Sarah soften a little in her hold, her face now hidden in the cool skin of Ava’s neck, she spoke again. It took a little prompting to get Sarah to look at her, maybe a lot of coaxing is a better descriptor, but eventually she pulled back just enough to meet her blood red eyes.

“What happened?”

Sarah shook her head almost immediately, clearly not in the mood for sharing. Ava knew she wouldn’t give it up that easily, yet she also knew that she wanted to talk. This was something that plagued Sarah way more than she let on and she imagined she needed another soul to speak to. One who could answer, anyway, since Ava was sure Autumn had heard the stories endless times. As human as that cat seemed to be sometimes, she couldn’t talk these things out with her owner, so her therapeutic role could only go so far.

“My cherished one,” Ava’s tone held a little warning because she knew she could be stubborn, “You had a nightmare, now tell me what it was about so I can fix it.”

“Ava…”

“I have all of eternity to wait and listen,” Ava replied before she could protest, “But it would be more convenient if you told me now.”

That had Sarah pouting, knowing she would feel better if someone else knew about it. Ava was always happy to share the burden of her thoughts, especially the bad memories that popped up at the worst times. They always snuck up on Sarah, coming back just when she thought she was recovering again.

“I-,” she sighed heavily, “My mom.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Sarah didn’t fight the hand that came up to smooth down her hair, nor did she fight when Ava pulled her a bit closer. She only shimmied a bit closer, evading her eyes again as she felt overwhelmed at the thought of reliving the dream. Ava knew this and kept her hold on her waist, one hand cradling her head gently since she knew it made Sarah feel safer.

“The same one again?”

“Kinda… a little different.”

“Do you wish to talk about it, love?”

“It was just mom’s death again but this time I tried to get between them. When dad… he choked me and threw me to the ground…”

“That didn’t happen,” Ava promised, “And he'll never get a chance to do such a thing.”

“It still feels like his hand is there,” Sarah choked out, her own hand coming up to her throat. Ava could see some shallow scratches that must have happened during Sarah’s unconscious thrashing, they were superficial but still an angry red against her skin.

She was quick to replace Sarah’s hand with her own, running delicate fingers over the marks in a gentle pattern. Ava was casual about it, as casual as one could be in such a situation anyway, but Sarah knew what she was doing. The soothing touch, careful and loving, was meant to erase any lingering thoughts of her dream.

“He’s still out there, Ava.”

“I know,” she murmured idly, thumb brushing over her jawline, “But that man will never lay a hand on you again.”

“You can’t be so sure…”

“Sarah Reese,” the vampire’s tone was stern as she looked at her almost incredulously, “I can promise you that I will kill your father the second I see him, if ever. Though I would love for him to rot in jail as the disgusting creature he is, I don’t trust human law one bit. So I would much prefer to take matters into my own hands.”

“You… you would do that?”

“Of course,” she nodded firmly, “Anything to keep you safe, darling.”

“But you don’t-” Sarah took her hand off her neck to instead hold onto it tightly, “You are not violent; you told me you wouldn’t kill again if you could help it.”

“That is true. I never enjoy taking a life,” she agreed, “But I do not feel remorse for your father.”

“No?”

“Not after what he did to you, that is unforgivable in my book. It would only be fair, really. A man who has no regard for another life does not deserve to live a free one of his own.”

“But.. what if he hurts you?”

Ava almost wanted to laugh at that, the worry knitting Sarah’s brows together was endearing. 130 years of vampirism and countless lives lived, yet here was this little human so worried about a mortal man harming her. Her care for Ava was adorable and it warmed her from the inside out, it was the closest feeling to being unwaveringly loved that she had felt in quite some time.

“Sarah, my sweet Sarah,” she chuckled darkly and squeezed her hand, “He wouldn’t be the first disgusting excuse for a man I’ve killed. He won’t even see it coming; though he will certainly feel it.”

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2020

I can’t tell you anything novel or insightful about this year that has been stolen from our lives. I watched zero of these films in a theater, and I watched most of them half-asleep in moments that I stole from my children. Don’t worry, there are some jokes below.

GARBAGE

93. Capone (Josh Trank)- What is the point of this dinner theater trash? It takes place in the last year of Capone's life, when he was released from prison due to failing health and suffered a stroke in his Florida home. So it covers...none of the things that make Al Capone interesting? It's not historically accurate, which I have no problem with, but if you steer away from accuracy, then do something daring and exciting. Don't give me endless scenes of "Phonse"--as if the movie is running from the very person it's about--drawing bags of money that promise intrigue, then deliver nothing in return.

That being said, best "titular character shits himself" scene since The Judge.

92. Ammonite (Francis Lee)- I would say that this is the Antz to Portrait of a Lady on Fire's A Bug's Life, but it's actually more like the Cars 3 to Portrait of a Lady on Fire's Toy Story 1.

91. Ava (Tate Taylor)- Despite the mystery and inscrutability that usually surround assassins, what if we made a hitman movie but cared a lot about her personal life? Except neither the assassin stuff nor the family stuff is interesting?

90. Wonder Woman 1984 (Patty Jenkins)- What a miscalculation of what audiences loved about the first and wanted from the sequel. WW84 is silly and weightless in all of the ways that the first was elegant and confident. If the return of Pine is just a sort of phantom representation of Diana's desires, then why can he fly a real plane? If he is taking over another man's soul, then, uh, what ends up happening to that guy? For that matter, why is it not 1984 enough for Ronald Reagan to be president, but it is 1984 enough for the president to have so many Ronald Reagan signifiers that it's confusing? Why not just make a decision?

On paper, the me-first values of the '80s lend themselves to the monkey's paw wish logic of this plot. You could actually do something with the Star Wars program or the oil crisis. But not if the setting is played for only laughs and the screenplay explains only what it feels like.

89. Babyteeth (Shannon Murphy)- In this type of movie, there has to be a period of the Ben Mendelsohn character looking around befuddled about the new arrangement and going, "What's this now--he's going to be...living with us? The guy who tried to steal our medication? This is crazy!" But that's usually ten minutes, and in this movie it's an hour. I was so worn out by the end.

88. You Should Have Left (David Koepp)- David Koepp wrote Jurassic Park, so he's never going to hell, but how dare he start caring about his own mystery at the hour mark. There's a forty-five minute version of this movie that could get an extra star from me, and there's a three-hour version of Amanda Seyfried walking around in athleisure that would get four stars from me. What we actually get? No thanks.

87. Black Is King (Beyonce, et al.)- End your association with The Lion King, Bey. It has resulted in zero bops.

  ADMIRABLE FAILURES

86. Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (Cathy Yan)- There's nothing too dysfunctional in the storytelling or performances, but Birds of Prey also doesn't do a single thing well. I would prefer something alive and wild, even if it were flawed, to whatever tame belt-level formula this is.

85. The Turning (Floria Sigismondi)- This update of The Turn of the Screw pumps the age of Miles up to high school, which creates some horny creepiness that I liked. But the age of the character also prevents the ending of the novel from happening in favor of a truly terrible shrug. I began to think that all of the patience that the film showed earlier was just hesitance for its own awful ending.

I watched The Turning as a Mackenzie Davis Movie Star heat check, and while I'm not sure she has the magnetism I was looking for, she does have a great teacher voice, chastening but maternal.

84. Bloodshot (David Wilson)- A whole lot of Vin Diesel saying he's going to get revenge and kill a bunch of dudes; not a whole lot of Vin Diesel actually getting revenge and killing a bunch of dudes.

83. Downhill (Nat Faxon and Jim Rash)- I was an English major in college, which means I ended up locking myself into literary theories that, halfway through the writing of an essay, I realized were flawed. But rather than throw out the work that I had already proposed, I would just keep going and see if I could will the idea to success.

So let's say you have a theory that you can take Force Majeure by Ruben Ostlund, one of the best films of its year, and remake it so that its statement about familial anxiety could apply to Americans of the same age and class too...if it hadn't already. And maybe in the first paragraph you mess up by casting Will Ferrell and Julia Louis-Dreyfus, people we are conditioned to laugh at, when maybe this isn't that kind of comedy at all. Well, don't throw it away. You can quote more--fill up the pages that way--take an exact shot or scene from the original. Does that help? Maybe you can make the writing more vigorous and distinctive by adding a character. Is that going to make this baby stand out? Maybe you could make it more personal by adding a conclusion that is slightly more clever than the rest of the paper?

Or perhaps this is one you're just not going to get an A on.

82. Hillbilly Elegy (Ron Howard)- I watched this melodrama at my mother's encouragement, and, though I have been trying to pin down her taste for decades, I think her idea of a successful film just boils down to "a lot of stuff happens." So in that way, Ron Howard's loss is my gain, I guess.

There is no such thing as a "neutral Terminator."

81. Relic (Natalie Erika James)- The star of the film is Vanessa Cerne's set decoration, but the inert music and slow pace cancel out a house that seems neglected slowly over decades.

80. Buffaloed (Tanya Wexler)- Despite a breathless pace, Buffaloed can't quite congeal. In trying to split the difference between local color hijinks and Moneyballed treatise on debt collection, it doesn't commit enough to either one.

Especially since Zoey Deutch produced this one in addition to starring, I'm getting kind of worried about boo's taste. Lot of Two If by Seas; not enough While You Were Sleepings.

79. Like a Boss (Miguel Arteta)- I chuckled a few times at a game supporting cast that is doing heavy lifting. But Like a Boss is contrived from the premise itself--Yeah, what if people in their thirties fell out of friendship? Do y'all need a creative consultant?--to the escalation of most scenes--Why did they have to hide on the roof? Why do they have to jump into the pool?

The movie is lean, but that brevity hurts just as much as it helps. The screenplay knows which scenes are crucial to the development of the friendship, but all of those feel perfunctory, in a different gear from the setpieces.  

To pile on a bit: Studio comedies are so bare bones now that they look like Lifetime movies. Arteta brought Chuck & Buck to Sundance twenty years ago, and, shot on Mini-DV for $250,000, it was seen as a DIY call-to-bootstraps. I guarantee that has more setups and locations and shooting days than this.

78. Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (David Dobkin)- Add Dan Stevens to the list of supporting players who have bodied Will Ferrell in his own movie--one that he cared enough to write himself.  

Like Downhill, Ferrell's other 2020 release, this isn't exactly bad. It's just workmanlike and, aside from the joke about Demi Lovato's "uninformed" ghost, frustratingly conventional.

77. The Traitor (Marco Bellochio)- Played with weary commitment by Pierfrancesco Favino, Tomasso Buscetta is "credited" as the first informant of La Cosa Nostra. And that sounds like an interesting subject for a "based on a true story" crime epic, right? Especially when you find out that Buscetta became a rat out of principle: He believed that the mafia to which he had pledged his life had lost its code to the point that it was a different organization altogether.  

At no point does Buscetta waver or even seem to struggle with his decision though, so what we get is less conflicted than that description might suggest. None of these Italian mob movies glorify the lifestyle, so I wasn't expecting that. But if the crime doesn't seem enticing, and snitching on the crime seems like forlorn duty, and everything is pitched with such underhanded matter-of-factness that you can't even be sure when Buscetta has flipped, then what are we left with? It was interesting seeing how Italian courts work, I guess?

76. Kajillionaire (Miranda July)- This is another movie so intent on building atmosphere and lore that it takes too long to declare what it is. When the protagonist hits a breaking point and has to act, she has only a third of a film to grow. So whispery too.

Gina Rodriguez is the one to inject life into it. As soon as her motormouth winds up, the film slips into a different gear. The atmosphere and lore that I mentioned reeks of artifice, but her character is believably specific. Beneath a basic exterior is someone who is authentically caring but still morally compromised, beholden to the world that the other characters are suspicious of.

75. Scoob! (Tony Cervone)- The first half is sometimes clever, but it hammers home the importance of friendship while separating the friends.

The second half has some positive messaging, but your kids' movie might have a problem with scale if it involves Alexander the Great unlocking the gates of the Underworld.

My daughter loved it.

74. The Lovebirds (Michael Showalter)- If I start talking too much about this perfectly fine movie, I end up in that unfair stance of reviewing the movie I wanted, not what is actually there.* As a fan of hang-out comedies, I kind of resent that any comedy being made now has to be rolled into something more "exciting," whether it's a wrongfully accused or mistaken identity thriller or some other genre. Such is the post-Game Night world. There's a purposefully anti-climactic note that I wish The Lovebirds had ended on, but of course we have another stretch of hiding behind boats and shooting guns. Nanjiani and Rae are really charming leads though.

*- As a New Orleanian, I was totally distracted by the fake aspects of the setting too. "Oh, they walked to Jefferson from downtown? Really?" You probably won't be bothered by the locations.

73. Sonic the Hedgehog (Jeff Fowler)- In some ways the storytelling is ambitious. (I'm speaking for only myself, but I'm fine with "He's a hedgehog, and he's really fast" instead of the owl mother, teleportation backstory. Not everything has to be Tolkien.) But that ambition doesn't match the lack of ambition in the comedy, which depends upon really hackneyed setups and structures. Guiding Jim Carrey to full alrighty-then mode was the best choice anyone made.

72. Malcolm & Marie (Sam Levinson)- The stars move through these long scenes with agility and charisma, but the degree of difficulty is just too high for this movie to reach what it's going for.

Levinson is trying to capture an epic fight between a couple, and he can harness the theatrical intensity of such a thing, but he sacrifices almost all of the nuance. In real life, these knock-down-drag-outs can be circular and indirect and sad in a way that this couple's manipulation rarely is. If that emotional truth is all this movie is trying to achieve, I feel okay about being harsh in my judgment of how well it does that.

71. Beanpole (Kantemir Balagov)- Elusive in how it refuses to declare itself, forthright in how punishing it is. The whole thing might be worth it for a late dinner scene, but I'm getting a bit old to put myself through this kind of misery.

70. The Burnt Orange Heresy (Giuseppe Capotondi)- Silly in good ways until it's silly in bad ways. Elizabeth Debicki remains 6'3".

69. Everybody’s Everything (Sebastian Jones and Ramez Silyan)- As a person who listened to Lil Peep's music, I can confidently say that this documentary is overstating his greatness. His death was a significant loss, as the interview subjects will all acknowledge, but the documentary is more useful as a portrait of a certain unfocused, rapacious segment of a generation that is high and online at all times.

68. The Witches (Robert Zemeckis)- Robert Zemeckis, Kenya Barris, and Guillermo Del Toro are the credited screenwriters, and in a fascinating way, you can see the imprint of each figure on the final product. Adapting a very European story to the old wives' tales of the American South is an interesting choice. Like the Nicolas Roeg try at this material, Zemeckis is not afraid to veer into the terrifying, and Octavia Spencer's pseudo witch doctor character only sells the supernatural. From a storytelling standpoint though, it seems as if the obstacles are overcome too easily, as if there's a whole leg of the film that has been excised. The framing device and the careful myth-making of the flashback make promises that the hotel half of the film, including the abrupt ending, can't live up to.

If nothing else, Anne Hathaway is a real contender for Most On-One Performance of the year.

67. Irresistible (Jon Stewart)- Despite a sort of imaginative ending, Jon Stewart's screenplay feels more like the declarative screenplay that would get you hired for a good movie, not a good screenplay itself. It's provocative enough, but it's clumsy in some basic ways and never evades the easy joke.

For example, the Topher Grace character is introduced as a sort of assistant, then is re-introduced an hour later as a polling expert, then is shown coaching the candidate on presentation a few scenes later. At some point, Stewart combined characters into one role, but nothing got smoothed out.

ENDEARING CURIOSITIES WITH BIG FLAWS

66. Yes, God, Yes (Karen Maine)- Most people who are Catholic, including me, are conflicted about it. Most people who make movies about being Catholic hate it and have an axe to grind. This film is capable of such knowing wit and nuance when it comes to the lived-in details of attending a high school retreat, but it's more concerned with taking aim at hypocrisy in the broad way that we've seen a million times. By the end, the film is surprisingly all-or-nothing when Christian teenagers actually contain multitudes.

Part of the problem is that Karen Maine's screenplay doesn't know how naive to make the Alice character. Sometimes she's reasonably naive for a high school senior in 2001; sometimes she's comically naive so that the plot can work; and sometimes she's stupid, which isn't the same as naive.

65. Bad Boys for Life (Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah)- This might be the first buddy cop movie in which the vets make peace with the tech-comm youngs who use new techniques. If that's the only novelty on display here--and it is--then maybe that's enough. I laughed maybe once. Not that the mistaken identity subplot of Bad Boys 1 is genius or anything, but this entry felt like it needed just one more layer to keep it from feeling as basic as it does. Speaking of layers though, it's almost impossible to watch any Will Smith movie now without viewing it through the meta-narrative of "What is Will Smith actually saying about his own status at this point in his career?" He's serving it up to us.

I derived an inordinate amount of pleasure from seeing the old school Simpson/Bruckheimer logo.

64. The Gentlemen (Guy Ritchie)- Look, I'm not going to be too negative on a movie whose crime slang is so byzantine that it has to be explained with subtitles. That's just me. I'm a simple man. But I can tell you that I tuned out pretty hard after seven or eight double-crosses.

The bloom is off the rose a bit for Ritchie, but he can still nail a music cue. I've been waiting for someone to hit "That's Entertainment" the way he does on the end credits.

63. Bad Hair (Justin Simien)- In Bad Hair, an African-American woman is told by her boss at a music video channel in 1989 that straightening her hair is the way to get ahead; however, her weave ends up having a murderous mind of its own. Compared to that charged, witty logline, the execution of the plot itself feels like a laborious, foregone conclusion. I'm glad that Simien, a genuinely talented writer, is making movies again though. Drop the skin-care routine, Van Der Beek!

62. Greyhound (Aaron Schneider)- "If this is the type of role that Tom Hanks writes for himself, then he understands his status as America's dad--'wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove'--even better than I thought." "America's Dad! Aye aye, sir!" "At least half of the dialogue is there for texture and authenticity, not there to be understood by the audience." "Fifty percent, Captain!" "The environment looks as fake as possible, but I eventually came around to the idea that the movie is completely devoid of subtext." "No subtext to be found, sir!"

  61. Mank (David Fincher)- About ten years ago, the Creative Screenwriting podcast spent an hour or so with James Vanderbilt, the writer of Zodiac and nothing else that comes close, as he relayed the creative paces that David Fincher pushed him through. Hundreds of drafts and years of collaborative work eventuated in the blueprint for Fincher's most exacting, personal film, which he didn't get a writing credit on only because he didn't seek one.

Something tells me that Fincher didn't ask for rewrites from his dead father. No matter what visuals and performances the director can coax from the script--and, to be clear, these are the worst visuals and performances of his career--they are limited by the muddy lightweight pages. There are plenty of pleasures, like the slippery election night montage or the shakily platonic relationship between Mank and Marion. But Fincher hadn't made a film in six years, and he came back serving someone else's master.

60. Tesla (Michael Almereyda)- "You live inside your head." "Doesn't everybody?"

As usual, Almereyda's deconstructions are invigorating. (No other moment can match the first time Eve Hewson's Anne fact-checks something with her anachronistic laptop.) But they don't add up to anything satisfying because Tesla himself is such an opaque figure. Driven by the whims of his curiosity without a clear finish line, the character gives Hawke something enigmatic to play as he reaches deep into a baritone. But he's too inward to lend himself to drama. Tesla feels of a piece with Almereyda's The Experimenter, and that's the one I would recommend.

59. Vitalina Varela (Pedro Costa)- I can't oversell how delicately beautiful this film is visually. There's a scene in which Vitalina lugs a lantern into a church, but we get several seconds of total darkness before that one light source carves through it and takes over part of the frame. Each composition is as intricate as it is overpowering, achieving a balance between stark and mannered.

That being said, most of the film is people entering or exiting doors. I felt very little of the haunting loss that I think I was supposed to.

58. The Rhythm Section (Reed Morano)- Call it the Timothy Hutton in The General's Daughter Corollary: If a name-actor isn't in the movie much but gets third billing, then, despite whom he sends the protagonist to kill, he is the Actual Bad Guy.  

Even if the movie serves up a lot of cliche, the action and sound design are visceral. I would like to see more from Morano.

57. Red, White and Blue (Steve McQueen)- Well-made and heartfelt even if it goes step-for-step where you think it will.

Here's what I want to know though: In the academy training sequence, the police cadets have to subdue a "berserker"; that is, a wildman who swings at their riot gear with a sledgehammer. Then they get him under control, and he shakes their hands, like, "Good angle you took on me there, mate." Who is that guy and where is his movie? Is this full-time work? Is he a police officer or an independent contractor? What would happen if this exercise didn't go exactly as planned?

56. Wolfwalkers (Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart)- The visuals have an unfinished quality that reminded me of The Tale of Princess Kaguya--the center of a flame is undrawn white, and fog is just negative space. There's an underlying symmetry to the film, and its color palette changes with mood.

Narratively, it's pro forma and drawn-out. Was Riley in Inside Out the last animated protagonist to get two parents? My daughter stuck with it, but she needed a lot of context for the religious atmosphere of 17th century Ireland.

55. What She Said: The Art of Pauline Kael (Rob Garver)- The film does little more than one might expect; it's limited in the way that any visual medium is when trying to sum up a woman of letters. But as far as education for Kael's partnership with Warren Beatty or the idea of The New Yorker paying her for only six months out of the year, it was useful for me.  

Although Garver isn't afraid to point to the work that made Kael divisive, it would have been nice to have one or two interview subjects who questioned her greatness, rather than the crew of Paulettes who, even when they do say something like, "Sometimes I radically disagreed with her," do it without being able to point to any specifics.

54. Beastie Boys Story (Spike Jonze)- As far as this Spike Jonze completist is concerned, this is more of a Powerpoint presentation than a movie, Beastie Boys Story still warmed my heart, making me want to fire up Paul's Boutique again and take more pictures of my buddies.

53. Tenet (Christopher Nolan)- Cool and cold, tantalizing and frustrating, loud and indistinct, Tenet comes close to Nolan self-parody, right down to the brutalist architecture and multiple characters styled like him. The setpieces grabbed me, I'll admit.

Nolan's previous film, which is maybe his best, was "about" a lot and just happened to play with time; Tenet is only about playing with time.

PRETTY GOOD MOVIES

52. Shithouse (Cooper Raiff)- "Death is ass."

There's such a thing as too naturalistic. If I wanted to hear how college freshmen really talked, I would hang out with college freshmen. But you have to take the good verisimilitude with the bad, and good verisimilitude is the mother's Pod Save America t-shirt.

There are some poignant moments (and a gonzo performance from Logan Miller) in this auspicious debut from Cooper Raiff, the writer/director/editor/star. But the second party sequence kills some of the momentum, and at a crucial point, the characters spell out some motivation that should have stayed implied.

51. Totally Under Control (Alex Gibney, Ophelia Harutyunyan, Suzanne Hillinger)- As dense and informative as any other Gibney documentary with the added flex of making it during the pandemic it is investigating.

But yeah, why am I watching this right now? I don't need more reasons to be angry with Trump, whom this film calmly eviscerates. The directors analyze Trump's narcissism first through his contradictions of medical expertise in order to protect the economy that could win him re-election. Then it takes aim at his hiring based on loyalty instead of experience. But you already knew that, which is the problem with the film, at least for now.

50. Happiest Season (Clea Duvall)- I was in the perfect mood to watch something this frothy and bouncy. Every secondary character receives a moment in the sun, and Daniel Levy gets a speech that kind of saves the film at a tipping point.

I must say though: I wanted to punch Harper in her stupid face. She is a terrible romantic partner, abandoning or betraying Abby throughout the film and dissembling her entire identity to everyone else in a way that seems absurd for a grown woman in 2020. Run away, Kristen. Perhaps with Aubrey Plaza, whom you have more chemistry with. But there I go shipping and aligning myself with characters, which only proves that this is an effective romantic comedy.

49. The Way Back (Gavin O’Connor)- Patient but misshapen, The Way Back does just enough to overcome the cliches that are sort of unavoidable considering the genre. (I can't get enough of the parent character who, for no good reason, doesn't take his son's success seriously. "Scholarship? What he's gotta do is put his nose in them books! That's why I don't go to his games. [continues moving boxes while not looking at the other character] Now if you'll excuse me while I wait four scenes before showing up at a game to prove that I'm proud of him after all...")

What the movie gets really right or really wrong in the details about coaching and addiction is a total crap-shoot. But maybe I've said too much already.

48. The Whistlers (Corneliu Porumboiu)- Porumboiu is a real artist who seems to be interpreting how much surveillance we're willing to acknowledge and accept, but I won't pretend to have understood much of the plot, the chapters or which are told out of order. Sometimes the structure works--the beguiling, contextless "high-class hooker" sequence--but I often wondered if the film was impenetrable in the way that Porumboiu wanted it to be or impenetrable in the way he didn't.

To tell you the truth, the experience kind of depressed me because I know that, in my younger days, this film is the type of thing that I would re-watch, possibly with the chronology righted, knowing that it is worth understanding fully. But I have two small children, and I'm exhausted all the time, and I kind of thought I should get some credit for still trying to catch up with Romanian crime movies in the first place.

47. Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (Jason Woliner)- I laughed too much to get overly critical, but the film is so episodic and contrived that it's kind of exhausting by the end--even though it's achieving most of its goals. Maybe Borat hasn't changed, but the way our citizens own their ugliness has.

46. First Cow (Kelly Reichardt)- Despite how little happens in the first forty minutes, First Cow is a thoughtful capitalism parable. Even though it takes about forty minutes to get going, the friendship between Cookie and King-Lu is natural and incisive. Like Reichardt's other work, the film's modest premise unfolds quite gracefully, except for in the first forty minutes, which are uneventful.

45. Les Miserables (Ladj Ly)- I loved parts of the film--the disorienting, claustrophobic opening or the quick look at the police officers' home lives, for example. But I'm not sure that it does anything very well. The needle the film tries to thread between realism and theater didn't gel for me. The ending, which is ambiguous in all of the wrong ways, chooses the theatrical. (If I'm being honest, my expectations were built up by Les Miserables' Jury Prize at Cannes, and it's a bit superficial to be in that company.)

If nothing else, it's always helpful to see how another country's worst case scenario in law enforcement would look pretty good over here.

44. Bad Education (Cory Finley)- The film feels too locked-down and small at the beginning, so intent on developing the protagonist neutrally that even the audience isn't aware of his secrets. So when he faces consequences for those secrets, there's a disconnect. Part of tragedy is seeing the doom coming, right?

When it opens up, however, it's empathetic and subtle, full of a dry irony that Finley is already specializing in after only one other feature. Geraldine Viswanathan and Allison Janney get across a lot of interiority that is not on the page.

43. The Trip to Greece (Michael Winterbottom)- By the fourth installment, you know whether you're on board with the franchise. If you're asking "Is this all there is?" to Coogan and Brydon's bickering and impressions as they're served exotic food in picturesque settings, then this one won't sway you. If you're asking "Is this all there is?" about life, like they are, then I don't need to convince you.  

I will say that The Trip to Spain seemed like an enervated inflection point, at which the squad could have packed it in. The Trip to Greece proves that they probably need to keep doing this until one of them dies, which has been the subtext all along.

42. Feels Good Man (Arthur Jones)- This documentary centers on innocent artist Matt Furie's helplessness as his Pepe the Frog character gets hijacked by the alt-right. It gets the hard things right. It's able to, quite comprehensively, trace a connection from 4Chan's use of Pepe the Frog to Donald Trump's near-assuming of Pepe's ironic deniability. Director Arthur Jones seems to understand the machinations of the alt-right, and he articulates them chillingly.

The easy thing, making us connect to Furie, is less successful. The film spends way too much time setting up his story, and it makes him look naive as it pits him against Alex Jones in the final third. Still, the film is a quick ninety-two minutes, and the highs are pretty high.

41. The Old Guard (Gina Prince-Bythewood)- Some of the world-building and backstory are handled quite elegantly. The relationships actually do feel centuries old through specific details, and the immortal conceit comes together for an innovative final action sequence.

Visually and musically though, the film feels flat in a way that Prince-Bythewood's other films do not. I blame Netflix specs. KiKi Layne, who tanked If Beale Street Could Talk for me, nearly ruins this too with the child-actory way that she stresses one word per line. Especially in relief with one of our more effortless actresses, Layne is distracting.

40. The Trial of the Chicago 7 (Aaron Sorkin)- Whenever Sacha Baron Cohen's Abbie Hoffman opens his mouth, the other defendants brace themselves for his dismissive vulgarity. Even when it's going to hurt him, he can't help but shoot off at the mouth. Of course, he reveals his passionate and intelligent depths as the trial goes on. The character is the one that Sorkin's screenplay seems the most endeared to: In the same way that Hoffman can't help but be Hoffman, Sorkin can't help but be Sorkin. Maybe we don't need a speech there; maybe we don't have to stretch past two hours; maybe a bon mot diffuses the tension. But we know exactly what to expect by now. The film is relevant, astute, witty, benevolent, and, of course, in love with itself. There are a handful of scenes here that are perfect, so I feel bad for qualifying so much.

A smaller point: Daniel Pemberton has done great work in the past (Motherless Brooklyn, King Arthur, The Man from U.N.C.L.E.), but the first sequence is especially marred by his sterile soft-rock approach.

  GOOD MOVIES

39. Time (Garrett Bradley)- The key to Time is that it provides very little context. Why the patriarch of this family is serving sixty years in prison is sort of besides the point philosophically. His wife and sons have to move on without him, and the tragedy baked into that fact eclipses any notion of what he "deserved." Feeling the weight of time as we switch back and forth between a kid talking about his first day of kindergarten and that same kid graduating from dentistry school is all the context we need. Time's presentation can be quite sumptuous: The drone shot of Angola makes its buildings look like crosses. Or is it X's?

At the same time, I need some context. When director Garrett Bradley withholds the reason Robert's in prison, and when she really withholds that Fox took a plea and served twelve years, you start to see the strings a bit. You could argue that knowing so little about why, all of a sudden, Robert can be on parole puts you into the same confused shoes as the family, but it feels manipulative to me. The film is preaching to the choir as far as criminal justice goes, which is fine, but I want it to have the confidence to tell its story above board.

38. Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets (Turner Ross and Bill Ross IV)- I have a barfly friend whom I see maybe once a year. When we first set up a time to meet, I kind of dread it and wonder what we'll have to talk about. Once we do get together, we trip on each other's words a bit, fumbling around with the rhythm of conversation that we mastered decades ago. He makes some kind of joke that could have been appropriate then but isn't now.

By the end of the day, hours later, we're hugging and maybe crying as we promise each other that we won't wait as long next time.

That's the exact same journey that I went on with this film.

37. Underwater (William Eubank)- Underwater is a story that you've seen before, but it's told with great confidence and economy. I looked up at twelve minutes and couldn't believe the whole table had been set. Kristen plays Ripley and projects a smart, benevolent poise.

36. The Lodge (Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala)- I prefer the grounded, manicured first half to the more fantastic second half. The craziness of the latter is only possible through the hard work of the former though. As with Fiala and Franz's previous feature, the visual rhymes and motifs get incorporated into the soup so carefully that you don't realize it until they overwhelm you in their bleak glory.

Small note: Alicia Silverstone, the male lead's first wife, and Riley Keough, his new partner, look sort of similar. I always think that's a nice note: "I could see how he would go for her."

35. Miss Americana (Lana Wilson)- I liked it when I saw it as a portrait of a person whose life is largely decided for her but is trying to carve out personal spaces within that hamster wheel. I loved it when I realized that describes most successful people in their twenties.

34. Sound of Metal (Darius Marder)- Riz Ahmed is showing up on all of the best performances of the year lists, but Sound of Metal isn't in anyone's top ten films of the year. That's about right. Ahmed's is a quiet, stubborn performance that I wish was in service of more than the straight line that we've seen before.

In two big scenes, there's this trick that Ahmed does, a piecing together of consequences with his eyes, as if he's moving through a flow chart in real time. In both cases, the character seems locked out and a little slower than he should be, which is, of course, why he's facing the consequences in the first place. To be charitable to a film that was a bit of a grind, it did make me notice a thing a guy did with his eyes.

33. Pieces of a Woman (Kornel Mundruczo)- Usually when I leave acting showcases like this, I imagine the film without the Oscar-baiting speeches, but this is a movie that specializes in speeches. Pieces of a Woman is being judged, deservedly so, by the harrowing twenty-minute take that opens the film, which is as indulgent as it is necessary. But if the unbroken take provides the "what," then the speeches provide the "why."

This is a film about reclaiming one's body when it rebels against you and when other people seek ownership of it. Without the Ellen Burstyn "lift your head" speech or the Vanessa Kirby show-stopper in the courtroom, I'm not sure any of that comes across.

I do think the film lets us off the hook a bit with the LaBoeuf character, in the sense that it gives us reasons to dislike him when it would be more compelling if he had done nothing wrong. Does his half-remembering of the White Stripes count as a speech?

32. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (George C. Wolfe)- This is such a play, not only in the locked-down location but also through nearly every storytelling convention: "Where are the two most interesting characters? Oh, running late? They'll enter separately in animated fashion?" But, to use the type of phrase that the characters might, "Don't hate the player; hate the game."

Perhaps the most theatrical note in this treatise on the commodification of expression is the way that, two or three times, the proceedings stop in their tracks for the piece to declare loudly what it's about. In one of those clear-outs, Boseman, who looks distractingly sick, delivers an unforgettable monologue that transports the audience into his character's fragile, haunted mind. He and Viola Davis are so good that the film sort of buckles under their weight, unsure of how to transition out of those spotlight moments and pretend that the story can start back up. Whatever they're doing is more interesting than what's being achieved overall.

31. Another Round (Thomas Vinterberg)- It's definitely the film that Vinterberg wanted to make, but despite what I think is a quietly shattering performance from Mikkelsen, Another Round moves in a bit too much of a straight line to grab me fully. The joyous final minutes hint at where it could have gone, as do pockets of Vinterberg's filmography, which seems newly tethered to realism in a way that I don't like. The best sequences are the wildest ones, like the uproarious trip to the grocery store for fresh cod, so I don't know why so much of it takes place in tiny hallways at magic hour. I give the inevitable American remake* permission to use these notes.

*- Just spitballing here. Martin: Will Ferrell, Nikolaj (Nick): Ben Stiller, Tommy: Owen Wilson, Peter: Craig Robinson

30. The Invisible Man (Leigh Whannell)- Exactly what I wanted. Exactly what I needed.

I think a less conclusive finale would have been better, but what a model of high-concept escalation. This is the movie people convinced me Whannell's Upgrade was.

29. On the Rocks (Sofia Coppola)- Slight until the Mexican sojourn, which expands the scope and makes the film even more psychosexual than before. At times it feels as if Coppola is actively simplifying, rather than diving into the race and privilege questions that the Murray character all but demands.

As for Murray, is the film 50% worse without him? 70%? I don't know if you can run in supporting categories if you're the whole reason the film exists.

28. Mangrove (Steve McQueen)- The first part of the film seemed repetitive and broad to me. But once it settled in as a courtroom drama, the characterization became more shaded, and the filmmaking itself seemed more fluid. I ended up being quite outraged and inspired.

27. Shirley (Josephine Decker)- Josephine Decker emerges as a real stylist here, changing her foggy, impressionistic approach not one bit with a little more budget. Period piece and established actors be damned--this is still as much of a reeling fever dream as Madeline's Madeline. Both pieces are a bit too repetitive and nasty for my taste, but I respect the technique.

Here's my mandatory "Elisabeth Moss is the best" paragraph. While watching her performance as Shirley Jackson, I thought about her most famous role as Peggy on Mad Men, whose inertia and need to prove herself tied her into confidence knots. Shirley is almost the opposite: paralyzed by her worldview, certain of her talent, rejecting any empathy. If Moss can inhabit both characters so convincingly, she can do anything.

26. An American Pickle (Brandon Trost)- An American Pickle is the rare comedy that could actually use five or ten extra minutes, but it's a surprisingly heartfelt and wholesome stretch for Rogen, who is earnest in the lead roles.

25. The King of Staten Island (Judd Apatow)- At two hours and fifteen minutes, The King of Staten Island is probably the first Judd Apatow film that feels like the exact right length. For example, the baggy date scene between a gracious Bill Burr and a faux-dowdy Marisa Tomei is essential, the sort of widening of perspective that something like Trainwreck was missing.

It's Pete Davidson's movie, however, and though he has never been my cup of tea, I think he's actually quite powerful in his quiet moments. The movie probes some rare territory--a mentally ill man's suspicion that he is unlovable, a family's strategic myth-making out of respect for the dead. And when Davidson shows up at the firehouse an hour and fifteen minutes in, it feels as if we've built to a last resort.

24. Swallow (Carlo Mirabella-Davis)- The tricky part of this film is communicating Hunter's despair, letting her isolation mount, but still keeping her opaque. It takes a lot of visual discipline to do that, and Claudio Mirabella-Davis is up to the task. This ends up being a much more sympathetic, expressive movie than the plot description might suggest.

(In the tie dispute, Hunter and Richie are both wrong. That type of silk--I couldn't tell how pebbled it was, but it's probably a barathea weave-- shouldn't be ironed directly, but it doesn't have to be steamed. On a low setting, you could iron the back of the tie and be fine.)

23. The Vast of Night (Andrew Patterson)- I wanted a bit more "there" there; The film goes exactly where I thought it would, and there isn't enough humor for my taste. (The predictability might be a feature, not a bug, since the film is positioned as an episode of a well-worn Twilight Zone-esque show.)

But from a directorial standpoint, this is quite a promising debut. Patterson knows when to lock down or use silence--he even cuts to black to force us to listen more closely to a monologue. But he also knows when to fill the silence. There's a minute or so when Everett is spooling tape, and he and Fay make small talk about their hopes for the future, developing the characters' personalities in what could have been just mechanics. It's also a refreshingly earnest film. No one is winking at the '50s setting.

I'm tempted to write, "If Andrew Patterson can make this with $1 million, just imagine what he can do with $30 million." But maybe people like Shane Carruth have taught us that Patterson is better off pinching pennies in Texas and following his own muse.

22. Martin Eden (Pietro Marcello)- At first this film, adapted from a picaresque novel by Jack London, seemed as if it was hitting the marks of the genre. "He's going from job to job and meeting dudes who are shaping his worldview now." But the film, shot in lustrous Super 16, won me over as it owned the trappings of this type of story, forming a character who is a product of his environment even as he transcends it. By the end, I really felt the weight of time.

You want to talk about something that works better in novels than films though? When a passionate, independent protagonist insists that a woman is the love of his life, despite the fact that she's whatever Italians call a wet blanket. She's rich, but Martin doesn't care about her money. He hates her family and friends, and she refuses to accept him or his life pursuits. She's pretty but not even as pretty as the waitress they discuss. Tell me what I'm missing here. There's archetype, and there's incoherence.

21. Bacurau (Kleber Mendonca Filho and Juliano Dornelles)- Certain images from this adventurous film will stick with me, but I got worn out after the hard reset halfway through. As entranced as I was by the mystery of the first half, I think this blood-soaked ensemble is better at asking questions than it is at answering them.

20. Let Them All Talk (Steven Soderbergh)- The initial appeal of this movie might be "Look at these wonderful actresses in their seventies getting a movie all to themselves." And the film is an interesting portrait of ladies taking stock of relationships that have spanned decades. But Soderbergh and Eisenberg handle the twentysomething Lucas Hedges character with the same openness and empathy. His early reasoning for going on the trip is that he wants to learn from older women, and Hedges nails the puppy-dog quality of a young man who would believe that. Especially in the scenes of aspirational romance, he's sweet and earnest as he brushes his hair out of his face.

Streep plays Alice Hughes, a serious author of literary fiction, and she crosses paths with Kelvin Kranz, a grinder of airport thrillers. In all of the right ways, Let Them All Talk toes the line between those two stances as an entertaining, jaunty experiment that also shoulders subtextual weight. If nothing else, it's easy to see why a cruise ship's counterfeit opulence, its straight lines at a lean, would be visually engaging to Soderbergh. You can't have a return to form if your form is constantly evolving.

19. Dick Johnson Is Dead (Kirsten Johnson)- Understandably, I don't find the subject as interesting as his own daughter does, and large swaths of this film are unsure of what they're trying to say. But that's sort of the point, and the active wrestling that the film engages in with death ultimately pays off in a transcendent moment. The jaw-dropping ending is something that only non-fiction film can achieve, and Johnson's whole career is about the search for that sort of serendipity.

18. Da 5 Bloods (Spike Lee)- Delroy Lindo is a live-wire, but his character is the only one of the principals who is examined with the psychological depth I was hoping for. The first half, with all of its present-tense flourishes, promises more than the gunfights of the second half can deliver. When the film is cooking though, it's chock full of surprises, provocations, and pride.

17. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Eliza Hittmann)- Very quickly, Eliza Hittmann has established herself as an astute, empathetic director with an eye for discovering new talent. I hope that she gets to make fifty more movies in which she objectively follows laconic young people. But I wanted to like this one more than I did. The approach is so neutral that it's almost flat to me, lacking the arc and catharsis of her previous film, Beach Rats. I still appreciate her restraint though.

GREAT MOVIES

16. Young Ahmed (Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne)- I don't think the Dardennes have made a bad movie yet, and I'm glad they turned away from the slight genre dipping of The Unknown Girl, the closest to bad that they got. Young Ahmed is a lean, daring return to form.

Instead of following an average person, as they normally do, the Dardenne Brothers follow an extremist, and the objectivity that usually generates pathos now serves to present ambiguity. Ahmed says that he is changing, that he regrets his actions, but we never know how much of his stance is a put-on. I found myself wanting him to reform, more involved than I usually am in these slices of life. Part of it is that Idir Ben Addi looks like such a normal, young kid, and the Ahmed character has most of the qualities that we say we want in young people: principles, commitment, self-worth, reflection. So it's that much more destructive when those qualities are used against him and against his fellow man.

15. World of Tomorrow Episode Three: The Absent Destinations of David Prime (Don Hertzfeldt)- My dad, a man whom I love but will never understand, has dismissed modern music before by claiming that there are only so many combinations of chords. To him, it's almost impossible to do something new. Of course, this is the type of thing that an uncreative person would say--a person not only incapable of hearing the chords that combine notes but also unwilling to hear the space between the notes. (And obviously, that's the take of a person who doesn't understand that, originality be damned, some people just have to create.)

  Anyway, that attitude creeps into my own thinking more than I would like, but then I watch something as wholly original as World of Tomorrow Episode Three. The series has always been a way to pile sci-fi ideas on top of each other to prove the essential truths of being and loving. And this one, even though it achieves less of a sense of yearning than its predecessor, offers even more devices to chew on. Take, for example, the idea that Emily sends her message from the future, so David's primitive technology can barely handle it. In order to move forward with its sophistication, he has to delete any extraneous skills for the sake of computer memory. So out of trust for this person who loves him, he has to weigh whether his own breathing or walking can be uninstalled as a sacrifice for her. I thought that we might have been done describing love, but there it is, a new metaphor. Mixing futurism with stick figures to get at the most pure drive possible gave us something new. It's called art, Dad.

14. On the Record (Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering)- We don't call subjects of documentaries "stars" for obvious reasons, but Drew Dixon kind of is one. Her honesty and wisdom tell a complete story of the #MeToo movement. Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering take their time developing her background at first, not because we need to "gain sympathy" or "establish credibility" for a victim of sexual abuse, but because showing her talent and enthusiasm for hip-hop A&R makes it that much more tragic when her passion is extinguished. Hell, I just like the woman, so spending a half-hour on her rise was pleasurable in and of itself.

  This is a gut-wrenching, fearless entry in what is becoming Dick and Ziering's raison d'etre, but its greatest quality is Dixon's composed reflection. She helped to establish a pattern of Russell Simmons's behavior, but she explains what happened to her in ways I had never heard before.

13. David Byrne’s American Utopia (Spike Lee)- I'm often impressed by the achievements that puzzle me: How did they pull that off? But I know exactly how David Byrne pulled off the impish but direct precision of American Utopia: a lot of hard work.

I can't blame Spike Lee for stealing a page from Demme's Stop Making Sense: He denies us a close-up of any audience members until two-thirds of the way through, when we get someone in absolute rapture.

12. One Night in Miami... (Regina King)- We've all cringed when a person of color is put into the position of speaking on behalf of his or her entire race. But the characters in One Night in Miami... live in that condition all the time and are constantly negotiating it. As Black public figures in 1964, they know that the consequences of their actions are different, bigger, than everyone else's. The charged conversations between Malcolm X and Sam Cooke are not about whether they can live normal lives. They're way past that. The stakes are closer to Sam Cooke arguing that his life's purpose aligns with the protection and elevation of African-Americans while Malcolm X argues that those pursuits should be the same thing. Late in the movie, Cassius Clay leaves the other men, a private conversation, to talk to reporters, a public conversation. But the film argues that everything these men do is always already public. They're the most powerful African-Americans in the country, but their lives are not their own. Or not only their own.

It's true that the first act has the clunkiness and artifice of a TV movie, but once the film settles into the motel room location and lets the characters feed off one another, it's gripping. It's kind of unfair for a movie to get this many scenes of Leslie Odom Jr. singing, but I'll take it.

11. Saint Frances (Alex Thompson)- Rilke wrote, "Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us." The characters' behavior in Saint Frances--all of these fully formed characters' behavior--made me think of that quotation. When they lash out at one another, even at their nastiest, the viewer has a window into how they're expressing pain they can't verbalize. The film is uneven in its subtlety, but it's a real showcase for screenwriter and star Kelly O'Sullivan, who is unflinching and dynamic in one of the best performances of the year. Somebody give her some of the attention we gave to Zach Braff for God's sake.

10. Boys State (Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine)- This documentary is kind of a miracle from a logistical standpoint. From casting interviews beforehand, lots of editing afterwards, or sly note-taking once the conference began, McBaine and Moss happened to select the four principals who mattered the most at the convention, then found them in rooms full of dudes wearing the same tucked-in t-shirt. By the way, all of the action took place over the course of one week, and by definition, the important events are carved in half.

To call Boys State a microcosm of American politics is incorrect. These guys are forming platforms and voting in elections. What they're doing is American politics, so when they make the same compromises and mistakes that active politicians do, it produces dread and disappointment. So many of the boys are mimicking the political theater that they see on TV, and that sweaty sort of performance is going to make a Billy Mitchell out of this kid Ben Feinstein, and we'll be forced to reckon with how much we allow him to evolve as a person. This film is so precise, but what it proves is undeniably messy. Luckily, some of these seventeen-year-olds usher in hope for us all.

If nothing else, the film reveals the level to which we're all speaking in code.

9. The Nest (Sean Durkin)- In the first ten minutes or so of The Nest, the only real happy minutes, father and son are playing soccer in their quaint backyard, and the father cheats to score on a children's net before sliding on the grass to rub in his victory. An hour later, the son kicks the ball around by himself near a regulation goal on the family's massive property. The contrast is stark and obvious, as is the symbolism of the dead horse, but that doesn't mean it's not visually powerful or resonant.

Like Sean Durkin's earlier film, Martha Marcy May Marlene, the whole of The Nest is told with detail of novelistic scope and an elevation of the moment. A snippet of radio that mentions Ronald Reagan sets the time period, rather than a dateline. One kid saying "Thanks, Dad" and another kid saying, "Thanks, Rory" establishes a stepchild more elegantly than any other exposition might.

But this is also a movie that does not hide what it means. Characters usually say exactly what is on their minds, and motivations are always clear. For example, Allison smokes like a chimney, so her daughter's way of acting out is leaving butts on the window sill for her mother to find. (And mother and daughter both definitely "act out" their feelings.) On the other hand, Ben, Rory's biological son, is the character least like him, so these relationships aren't too directly parallel. Regardless, Durkin uses these trajectories to cast a pall of familial doom.

8. Sorry We Missed You (Sean Durkin)- Another precisely calibrated empathy machine from Ken Loach. The overwhelmed matriarch, Abby, is a caretaker, and she has to break up a Saturday dinner to rescue one of her clients, who wet herself because no one came to help her to the bathroom. The lady is embarrassed, and Abby calms her down by saying, "You mean more to me than you know." We know enough about Abby's circumstances to realize that it's sort of a lie, but it's a beautiful lie, told by a person who cares deeply but is not cared for.

Loach's central point is that the health of a family, something we think of as immutable and timeless, is directly dependent upon the modern industry that we use to destroy ourselves. He doesn't have to be "proven" relevant, and he didn't plan for Covid-19 to point to the fragility of the gig economy, but when you're right, you're right.

7. Lovers Rock (Steve McQueen)- swear to you I thought: "This is an impeccable depiction of a great house party. The only thing it's missing is the volatile dude who scares away all the girls." And then the volatile dude who scares away all the girls shows up.

In a year short on magic, there are two or three transcendent moments, but none of them can equal the whole crowd singing along to "Silly Games" way after the song has ended. Nothing else crystallizes the film's note of celebration: of music, of community, of safe spaces, of Black skin. I remember moments like that at house parties, and like all celebrations, they eventually make me sad.

6. Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution (Nicole Newnham and James Lebrecht)- I held off on this movie because I thought that I knew what it was. The setup was what I expected: A summer camp for the disabled in the late '60s takes on the spirit of the time and becomes a haven for people who have not felt agency, self-worth, or community anywhere else. But that's the right-place-right-time start of a story that takes these figures into the '80s as they fight for their rights.

If you're anything like my dumb ass, you know about 504 accommodations from the line on a college syllabus that promises equal treatment. If 2020 has taught us anything though, it's that rights are seized, not given, and this is the inspiring story of people who unified to demand what they deserved. Judy Heumann is a civil rights giant, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't know who she was before this film. If it were just a history lesson that wasn't taught in school, Crip Camp would still be valuable, but it's way more than that.

5. Palm Springs (Max Barbakow)- When explaining what is happening to them, Andy Samberg's Nyles twirls his hand at Cristin Milioti's Sara and says, "It's one of those infinite time-loop scenarios." Yeah, one of those. Armed with only a handful of fictional examples, she and the audience know exactly what he means, and the continually inventive screenplay by Andy Siara doesn't have to do any more explaining. In record time, the film accelerates into its premise, involves her, and sets up the conflict while avoiding the claustrophobia of even Groundhog Day. That economy is the strength that allows it to be as funny as it is. By being thrifty with the setup, the savings can go to, say, the couple crashing a plane into a fiery heap with no consequences.

In some accidental ways, this is, of course, a quarantine romance as well. Nyles and Sara frustratingly navigate the tedious wedding as if they are play-acting--which they sort of are--then they push through that sameness to grow for each other, realizing that dependency is not weakness. The best relationships are doing the same thing right now.

  Although pointedly superficial--part of the point of why the couple is such a match--and secular--I think the notion of an afterlife would come up at least once--Palm Springs earns the sincerity that it gets around to. And for a movie ironic enough to have a character beg to be impaled so that he doesn't have to sit in traffic, that's no small feat.

  4. The Assistant (Kitty Green)- A wonder of Bressonian objectivity and rich observation, The Assistant is the rare film that deals exclusively with emotional depth while not once explaining any emotions. One at a time, the scrape of the Kleenex box might not be so grating, the long hallway trek to the delivery guy might not be so tiring, but this movie gets at the details of how a job can destroy you in ways that add up until you can't even explain them.

3. Promising Young Woman (Emerald Fennell)- In her most incendiary and modern role, Carey Mulligan plays Cassie, which is short for Cassandra, that figure doomed to tell truths that no one else believes. The web-belted boogeyman who ruined her life is Al, short for Alexander, another Greek who is known for his conquests. The revenge story being told here--funny in its darkest moments, dark in its funniest moments--is tight on its surface levels, but it feels as if it's telling a story more archetypal and expansive than that too.

  An exciting feature debut for its writer-director Emerald Fennell, the film goes wherever it dares. Its hero has a clear purpose, and it's not surprising that the script is willing to extinguish her anger halfway through. What is surprising is the way it renews and muddies her purpose as she comes into contact with half-a-dozen brilliant one- or two-scene performances. (Do you think Alfred Molina can pull off a lawyer who hates himself so much that he can't sleep? You would be right.)

Promising Young Woman delivers as an interrogation of double standards and rape culture, but in quiet ways it's also about our outsized trust in professionals and the notion that some trauma cannot be overcome.

INSTANT CLASSICS

2. Soul (Pete Docter)- When Pete Docter's Up came out, it represented a sort of coronation for Pixar: This was the one that adults could like unabashedly. The one with wordless sequences and dead children and Ed Asner in the lead. But watching it again this week with my daughter, I was surprised by how high-concept and cloying it could be. We choose not to remember the middle part with the goofy dog stuff.

Soul is what Up was supposed to be: honest, mature, stirring. And I don't mean to imply that a family film shouldn't make any concessions to children. But Soul, down to the title, never compromises its own ambition. Besides Coco, it's probably the most credible character study that Pixar has ever made, with all of Joe's growth earned the hard way. Besides Inside Out, it's probably the wittiest comedy that Pixar has ever made, bursting with unforced energy.

There's a twitter fascination going around about Dez, the pigeon-figured barber character whose scene has people gushing, "Crush my windpipe, king" or whatever. Maybe that's what twitter does now, but no one fantasized about any characters in Up. And I count that as progress.

1. I’m Thinking of Ending Things (Charlie Kaufman)- After hearing that our name-shifting protagonist moonlights as an artist, a no-nonsense David Thewlis offers, "I hope you're not an abstract artist." He prefers "paintings that look like photographs" over non-representational mumbo-jumbo. And as Jessie Buckley squirms to try to think of a polite way to talk back, you can tell that Charlie Kaufman has been in the crosshairs of this same conversation. This morose, scary, inscrutable, expressionist rumination is not what the Netflix description says it is at all, and it's going to bother nice people looking for a fun night in. Thank God.

The story goes that Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, when constructing Raiders of the Lost Ark, sought to craft a movie that was "only the good parts" with little of the clunky setup that distracted from action. What we have here is a Charlie Kaufman movie with only the Charlie Kaufman moments, less interested than ever before at holding one's hand. The biting humor is here, sometimes aimed at philistines like the David Thewlis character above, sometimes at the niceties that we insist upon. The lonely horror of everyday life is here, in the form of missed calls from oneself or the interruption of an inner monologue. Of course, communicating the overwhelming crush of time, both unknowable and familiar, is the raison d'etre.

A new pet motif seems to be the way that we don't even own our own knowledge. The Young Woman recites "Bonedog" by Eva H.D., which she claims/thinks she wrote, only to find Jake's book open to that page, next to a Pauline Kael book that contains a Woman Under the Influence review that she seems to have internalized later. When Jake muses about Wordsworth's "Lucy Poems," it starts as a way to pass the time, then it becomes a way to lord his education over her, then it becomes a compliment because the subject resembles her, then it becomes a way to let her know that, in the grand scheme of things, she isn't that special at all. This film jerks the viewer through a similar wintry cycle and leaves him with his own thoughts. It's not a pretty picture, but it doesn't look like anything else.

[punkscowardschampions]

James & Ava

James: Good morning, how are you? Ava: 😊 All the 🌞 for hearing from you Ava: how are you, James? James: I'm happy to hear that James: meanwhile I'm busy, but unfortunately not solely with hours dedicated to missing you, which is in itself dangerously close to a regret Ava: I know what you mean Ava: the universe doesn't allow nearly enough opportunities for pining at open windows or reflective musing whilst staring into bodies of water, or mirrors, depending on the mood Ava: impressive you can think up any beautiful words in such circumstances Ava: what are you busy with? James: I can't remember the last time I looked into a reflective surface that wasn't a kitchen appliance, but considering how few hours of sleep my present universe allows, that's perhaps for the best James: there is only so much a caffeine fuelled bloodstream can produce and therefore no new paragraphs of the novel are forthcoming either James: I'm steeping your in disappointments to begin your day, I'm afraid James: and you're not the only one, as what I am overwhelmingly busy right now is cancelling plans Ava: I'm sure I'll survive them all though Ava: as you will the lack of sleep and caffeine jitters, with a bit of help Ava: what can I do? Ava: Which is to say, what plans are worth keeping cancelled, and which ones should be salvaged from the ❌🗑 James: all I am left with are the activities which I cannot bear to erase from the schedule, therein lies my dilemma in its entirety Ava: Lay it on me Ava: two heads are better than one James: she is supposed to be here & isn't, which is of no surprise to me & wouldn't be of any consequence if I were capable of being in two places at once James: but I am not, nor do I have words to spin this into a story that doesn't end with a child having even less routine or structure when what she wants is more of both Ava: Right, and naturally, she's left it too late to contact any grandparent to be a stand-in? Ava: is it something I could do or not? James: I did try my mother but her reaction to being asked to enter the swimming baths was as hilarious as it was unhelpful Ava: I can imagine Ava: if that wasn't a waste of imagination James: I should have foreseen that they'd end up sharing the same unwillingness to get their hair wet Ava: but swimming caps are so fetching Ava: 🙄 James: of course James: & it's entirely about them, not the children's enjoyment Ava: or that swimming is actually a pretty vital skill Ava: you think people who like to spend so much time doing water-adjacent activities, yachting, sailing etc, would realize said importance but half my friends can't swim, only take the poolside pictures Ava: but seriously, if you think they'd be okay, I'm happy to keep watch on whichever kid would be more agreeable with me doing so James: Jay loves swimming, but I'm sure she'll outgrow it & prefer to pose apathetically on a lounger in designer sunglasses given a few years & the force of my wife's will James: that's how things work in this universe Ava: Not everyone is like that Ava: and your wife's will can be broken by the horror of damp hair, it can't be that much of an unstoppable force James: her will isn't the one being tested, but point taken Ava: No, I know Ava: I bet none of her yummy mummy friends take their kids though, do they? James: all of her friends have foreign au pairs that they barely have to financially compensation for raising their children full time Ava: so Ava: we can pretend I'm your enthusiastic...Swedish is perhaps a little too cliche Ava: Dutch? Ava: au pair James: what language do you actually take in school? James: they might hypothetically try to voice their complaints to you & expect you to respond in kind Ava: Such a shame the obligatory Latin won't come in handy, as per with dead languages Ava: I take French though, some of them might be Swiss James: it's inconsequential really, I can't ask you to help me when I haven't even asked what your plans are Ava: I offered, you didn't ask Ava: and I wouldn't have offered if I was busy with anything of consequence James: yes you would Ava: Nothing in my life is that important, not currently James: this isn't important to you James: & it doesn't have to be Ava: It's a life skill, like I said Ava: I don't mind doing it James: what am I supposed to say? Ava: if you think it's a bad idea, it's not like I'll be offended or anything silly like that James: it isn't that it's a bad idea Ava: What is it? James: it's that I feel bad, if this is what I can offer you James: because ours isn't supposed to be a sob story & it seems like I've only started a conversation with you to file my complaints Ava: it's not all you can offer me Ava: or all you do Ava: you have responsibilities, plenty of them, I knew that before Ava: and it's not a negative, even with it meaning we spend more time missing each other than we'd like James: it is however painfully stereotypical, 'my wife doesn't understand me' & so on Ava: well, yes Ava: at least you aren't alone in that pain Ava: 2/3 marriages, isn't it James: you're not supposed to be a sounding board for my mistakes, or hers, is all I'm trying to say Ava: I don't feel like one, I promise James: I just wish we could exist independent of this James: but there's no way not to feel equally as bad for wishing for a different world as I do for dragging you into this one Ava: I know Ava: but that wouldn't be a real world at all Ava: it could only exist within the pages of the novel Ava: it'd be perfect but James: I know that too, all of it James: ignore me, I'm tired Ava: I couldn't if I wanted to Ava: and I don't Ava: maybe you'll find a lilo to catch some 💤 on James: sadly I'm not taking any of you swimming at the villa Ava: You would have to tell me if I needed my passport as well as my swimsuit James: one day Ava: yeah? James: if you want to Ava: I don't need to pose apathetically in another sun lounger Ava: but of course, I'd like to be anywhere with you James: you won't be, that isn't even the hypothetical holiday I have in mind James: you know I want to experience things with you Ava: Then we will Ava: and it'll be much more than a photo opportunity James: okay, good Ava: Where would you most want to go together? James: I don't know James: but I like snow Ava: We can work with that Ava: top of a mountain, maybe James: that would be an undeniably good photo opportunity Ava: okay, so the view doesn't count 😅 James: I'll be relying on that, taking mental pictures is all well & good for now but you're a very lovely view Ava: oh 😌 Ava: you're lovelier James: no, you're impossibly beautiful James: all I can do is my best to put suitable description to it Ava: you're just Ava: I want to help you today Ava: but it's undeniably a bonus that I will get to see you James: I'll make some time purely for you James: I don't know when, but as soon as I can Ava: I'll take it Ava: whenever it is James: there's a chance I can use my mother's unwillingness to help me now as a insistence to do so later Ava: potentially Ava: promise her hair won't get wet, that'd be a start James: thank you, I'll open with that Ava: 😏 Ava: there must be something she'd like to do with them Ava: that won't also be entirely torturous for them, because certainly counterproductive James: I'm not sure there is James: but at the very least she's capable of feeding & putting them to bed Ava: then I can do the same for you Ava: more or less James: by then, it'll be my turn to do something for you Ava: which would you rather 🛏 or 🍽? James: it's not my decision, it's yours Ava: I'll cook for you James: I think that's wise Ava: I just want to see you, we don't need to go anywhere unnecessarily Ava: my place is often empty James: I'm happy to hear that in this instance, because of how much I want to see you too Ava: It has its perks Ava: you can take as long as you like putting me to bed, also James: can I? Ava: Yes Ava: I very much hope so James: I don't think you've anticipated how long I would like to spend doing so James: in a perfect world Ava: in this world Ava: we can go to bed very, very early, so you'll still be home by the time you need to be James: & if I don't need to be anywhere else, can I stay? Ava: yes Ava: you can stay as long as you can James: I'll try & stay until we can say good morning face to face Ava: I'd really like that James: me too Ava: You make me smile, you know James: I look forward to seeing it, should traffic ever allow Ava: Oh, I could've got myself there James: I know but I want to spend as much time with you as possible, just in case James: it's already been highlighted how unreliable all of my childcare options are & just how dependent on ridiculous whims Ava: I'm not going to complain, trust me James: you'd be entitled to, when you see how much energy these girls have compared to me James: they make me appear a level of exhausted that I haven't yet reached, honest James: it's horrifically unjust Ava: If I know anything about having kids, it's that any complaint I might have doesn't even register in comparison Ava: and you're still beautiful, even if you're very, very tired James: in theory possibly, but actually, your every sound & silence registers with me Ava: in that case, I'll make every one count James: I believe you Ava: not that I promise my words will be as good as yours Ava: that would just be foolish James: I don't doubt your vocabulary either, you're extremely eloquent & capable whatever the circumstances James: a very worthwhile skill in a protagonist Ava: you could make me the swooning type and it'd be valid Ava: perhaps not very likable or inspirational though James: unless you've changed your mind about seeing me, I don't have the time for such a drastic & unnecessarily out of character rewrite James: there aren't enough hours in the day to finish the saga, never mind turn us into the next Bella & Edward James: what a great disservice that would be to you anyway Ava: That would be so out of character, I couldn't possibly, we'd find ourselves in the same situation regardless Ava: and whilst I'm happy to miss you and do some pining for the cause Ava: I'll be happier to see you, of course Ava: no need to exile yourself to Italy, though I can see the pluses of that for you/Edward James: not to mention, the age gap is already enough of a potential concern Ava: at least you aren't re-doing high school for the nth time Ava: that would be alarming James: there's an argument to be made that I should Ava: if you picked a better school, maybe James: at the top of a mountain, perhaps Ava: yes Ava: though, distracting as you would be, I wouldn't be mad at an excuse to see you every day James: there is nothing more distracting than the thought of the blush of your cheeks in the cold air, which is what I'm considering right now Ava: James James: Ava Ava: I'm going to have to be cool when I see you, aren't I James: yes Ava: okay Ava: then I better compose myself James: such a heartbreaking sentence will never make it into the final draft Ava: it's okay, I like swimming James: you'll enjoy it when I can promise you a hot spring Ava: I'll love it then James: I hope so Ava: I will Ava: but I could be anywhere with you and feel 🌞 James: I can't help but feel as though this swimming lesson will put that to the test Ava: screaming kids are nothing Ava: I'm 💪 James: you can have the baby then, there's more heavy lifting involved Ava: alright Ava: I can do that Ava: she must be like a little 🐠 James: she looks like one with her 🐠 hooded towel on Ava: that's adorable James: [sends her a picture from a previous swimming lesson of that adorable bub wearing it because that's not cheating evidence Chlo, we're safe] Ava: Bless her Ava: she's precious James: you'll do fine, she enjoys a compliment Ava: I feel that James: well, it'd be amiss if I didn't flirt with my au pair & we don't want any raised eyebrows Ava: Exactly Ava: got to play your role James: if there was ever one I was seemingly born to play Ava: you don't want an actual au pair? Ava: not for flirting purposes, obviously James: I'm not allowed one, for flirting purposes or otherwise Ava: Ahh Ava: I see James: yet another cliche Ava: you shouldn't need one Ava: she doesn't work, right Ava: or uni, or anything James: of course not, but we would hypothetically need one because, as you just highlighted, she doesn't do anything Ava: yeah Ava: maybe you could find a man Ava: or a really unappealing woman James: I'm not handing her someone else to sleep with, least of all someone who's supposed to be busy watching the children James: & I don't think a woman unappealing enough exists given that my imagined track record clearly surpasses the actual Ava: and it would just be cruel to force any queer guy to be her built-in gay BFF Ava: 🙁 James: oh god, that would be the cruellest fate imaginable Ava: couldn't wish that on anyone Ava: I just Ava: wish I could help more long-term James: all you have to do is be here, that is helping me both short & long term James: more than you know or I could feasibly let you know Ava: but you can try Ava: and I will very much enjoy you doing so Ava: later James: I miss you James: I want you to know that now Ava: I miss you too James: I'll be there soon though, whether or not that helps or makes the feeling worse for you Ava: we'll see Ava: at least I can let you know 💬 James: I'll take my own opportunity to compose myself before you do Ava: 😇 James: 😈 Ava: it will be hard not to be James: it always is Ava: yeah Ava: one day, you won't have to be James: but this morning, I'll try to please everyone Ava: and you will James: you're the 😇 darling Ava: but you are very, very good Ava: you should know, I want you to James: thank you Ava: you're 🥇 James: I will only accept the accolade if I can share the honour with you Ava: you're too generous Ava: you deserve it James: so do you Ava: nah, not really James: yes really James: I don't deserve you happening to me James: I'm in awe of everything about you, Ava Ava: That's not true Ava: you deserve me Ava: and a lot more besides James: irrespective of the difference of opinion, I don't want anything more than you Ava: anything? James: what could I possibly desire more than you? Ava: you're Ava: are you nearly here? James: yes, but I can take some kind of impromptu detour if you'd rather the answer was no Ava: I can definitely compose myself again Ava: becoming quite an expert James: which is why you deserve a 🥇 James: I know how difficult it is to do Ava: at least we share in it Ava: that makes it, not easier but at least worthwhile James: still, I wish there was something I could do to make it easier for you Ava: it'll help when I get to see you in the pool Ava: or make it a lot worse in a kinda fun way, anyway James: oh James: I haven't stopped to consider what you're going to be wearing for this Ava: It's probably best you don't Ava: forget I said anything James: hm, what you're done is, you've essentially guaranteed I can't & won't Ava: it's okay, you have the whole ride there to think about it before you really need to concentrate James: except I meant it when I answered yes to being nearly there & as soon as I am, time will speed up as it tends to do James: around you there are just never enough moments Ava: I miss you before you've even got here too Ava: no amount of time seems suitable James: I'll write us days, weeks, months & years but there's every chance you'll still feel cheated by it Ava: that's just life isn't it Ava: there's no time for half the things we want to do, but we have to carry on in earnest anyway James: the fraction alters from person to person, depending on the life lived & what gets prioritised but I don't believe there's anyone satisfied that they've experienced enough of anything they still want Ava: right Ava: the best you can hope for is doing some of it and having no regrets about if you could've done any more with your allotted time James: in not doing regrets, I'm halfway there Ava: could be worse James: I'm aware it could also be better, don't worry, I won't make you say it Ava: who's couldn't though James: anyone I care about, if the 🖋 were mightier than the ⚔ or indeed intentions counted for more than words on paper in the 1st place Ava: good intentions might not exactly be doing good, but it's still much better than doing bad James: they might also be dangerously close to a fool's errand but I've definitely made a fool of myself for a lot less Ava: I think its noble James: do you? Ava: Yes Ava: of course Ava: I mean it, really mean it, when I say I think you're lovely James: it's just that I'm not used to hearing it James: give me days, months, weeks & years Ava: Done Ava: the only reason I'd stop was if you wanted me to Ava: even then, I might try again, a few more times James: I have no intention, be it good or bad, of stopping you from doing anything you want to Ava: as long as you want it too James: even if I don't Ava: I wouldn't want that James: give yourself days, months, weeks & years James: the point is, my limitations aren't yours, you can do whatever you want & I won't be something that prevents you Ava: I'll still have time and space to say and mean it, whoever I am, because it will still be true and you'll still deserve to hear it James: okay, I'll work on accepting that James: but I make no promises about getting that work done during this particular car ride James: nonetheless, if you're still willing to, you can get in Ava: [come through gal, say hello to them babies] James: [depending where we're putting this on the timeline it could be the first time you have] Ava: [very well could be, Jay just like whaaa] James: [she's like new phone who dis] Ava: [just like I too wanted to swim so I'm coming with, is that cool?] James: [cue excited chatter about swimming and all the other sports and activities she likes because she's a sporty bitch from cradle to grave hence her personal trainer future] Ava: [just taking an interest like your own mother never, so rude] James: [I like to imagine the baby joining in by making excited sounds like she's trying to chat too] Ava: [just replying like yeah girl, same, like you understand] James: [I love it when that's a thing] Ava: [so do babies] James: [already better with her than her actual mother is] Ava: [sad but true] James: [we know the bar is that low, no shade Ava we also know you'll be an amazing step mum and mum so] Ava: [but seriously, we aren't being that extra rn that would be weird, we're just being not shit lol] James: [exactly dr phil and we know this swimming lesson will go great cos I'm only gonna be evil after and not let him get away to spend the night with her cos forever rude] Ava: [that's real and fair] James: [you lowkey don't get to have anything you want rn lads it's just the era we're in] Ava: [true tea, can skip to that] James: the later we wanted is going to have to happen moreso than we thought James: I'm really sorry James: I've tried everyone, both my siblings even Ava: Oh, okay Ava: that is a shame James: It's not okay, you were wonderful earlier & I James: well, I'm hardly that, unless we're giving out marks for effort in the last hour Ava: I'm definitely counting it Ava: if it can't be done it can't be James: not tonight Ava: then it's, not okay but just a fact Ava: we'll find time James: what are you doing tomorrow, maybe we can find some time then? Ava: I'm going to another Uni taster day thing James: which uni is it? Ava: LSE, so I will be about the day after on James: & you'll tell me what you think of LSE when it's over, right? Ava: Of course Ava: it's 1st for journalism but I'm not sold quite yet James: the tour might swing it for you if they take it more seriously than the one I gave Ava: I happen to be fond of the tour you gave, thank you very much James: Yes, The Vault will forever hold a special place in your heart Ava: Exactly Ava: be swinging by whether I'm alum or not 😏 James: I'll bear that in mind should I ever need to find you Ava: you only have to ask James: or whistle, not your namesake's immortal line, but I'm sure it'd be effective Ava: I have two, should you ever like to try again James: I'll bear that in mind as well Ava: Are you named after your dad, or granddad? James: II not III Ava: might've skipped a generation, if he was feeling particularly ruthless James: that would be a fun anecdote, but no Ava: that's a shame Ava: how do they pick the second boy's name James: I assume my mother just named Teddy what she would have named me if my father's ego hadn't got in the way Ava: that makes sense James: how they chose me sister's name would be anyone's guess, were it not stolen from the royal family Ava: surprised they'd commit the faux pas Ava: never have you 'round now, very awkward James: or very much a relief Ava: Poor Charlotte is pretty awkward looking James: looking like your grandmother can go one of 2 extremely different ways James: the more greats you add, the more you're rolling the dice Ava: 😅 Ava: at least there is some mystery in that Ava: no prizes for guessing who I come from James: but hand on heart I can profess to being thrilled that neither of my daughters resemble any of their grandparents Ava: they look like you James: Jay does Ava: yeah, moreso Ava: little ones change so much James: yes, she's an unfinished work Ava: that's a good way to put it James: it's better than being a shelved one, as I am Ava: I can deploy tiptoes if necessary James: thank you for what will be a cherished mental image Ava: it'd be cuter if I was smaller but in relation to you James: you couldn't be any cuter, in relation to anyone Ava: I'm glad you think so James: of course I do Ava: no of course about it Ava: you're totally gorgeous yourself James: first you're comparing our heights & now follows the rest of our attributes James: it's okay, I'm sitting down Ava: well I'm glad to hear you're getting somewhat of a break Ava: I'm just saying, it was still very unlikely, if not star-crossed James: you don't think we looked right together earlier? Ava: I love how we looked James: is there a but coming? Ava: only in the sense I wish it wasn't such a predictable cliche scene around here Ava: but it's neither of our faults that employment is seen as an actual form of flirtation by some James: it was a convenient excuse, I couldn't have wished for more than that under the circumstances Ava: I know Ava: it did the job James: if you want to come again, we know it works Ava: do you think I'll be invited back? James: I don't see why not Ava: I did okay then James: you did better than okay, we're all in agreement here Ava: good James: you haven't been worrying about this since you left, have you? Ava: not worrying Ava: but I don't want to mess that up, so I'm glad I didn't James: I understand, but I meant what I said about being in awe of you, you know James: this wasn't any different Ava: You really do always know what to say Ava: I know it was only swimming, but I'm glad they got to go James: well it's obvious that you always know what to do because you were perfect James: I was worried I shouldn't have agreed to you coming with us, but I'm glad you did James: they would've missed out for no reason if I'd panicked needlessly Ava: it wasn't needless panic though, you were left properly in the lurch Ava: and on paper, does not sound like the best idea James: I'm used to that, but less used to us existing off the page, particularly when it isn't just the two of us James: I asked you what you thought about how we looked, but it's something I try not to think about Ava: because of what other people might think Ava: or because you don't like the thought James: because of everything about my life that makes it difficult for us to be an us James: & because of your age & theirs Ava: You aren't that much older, even if your life means you have to act it Ava: but I understand Ava: thinking about it too much makes you think it might only ever be a nice thought, a daydream on the page and in our heads James: I know but Jay is 6 & you aren't old enough to have a child of that age James: which is why you don't James: I can't help thinking about that Ava: Well, yeah, I don't get having kids, there's no denying that but I'm not trying to say I do Ava: most people your age don't have kids either James: of course they don't, that's the thing, there's not an excessive age gap but there is a huge discrepancy when it comes to our lifestyle Ava: I know James: I don't want to alter yours, that's all Ava: You aren't just going to Ava: my lifestyle is up to me James: okay, just don't let me rewrite you Ava: you won't Ava: you don't want to, and I won't let you Ava: don't worry, okay James: I'll try not to Ava: it's needless, we can use that word here instead James: it's only a worry because I like you exactly as you are Ava: those aren't your words, sir James: do you only accept original speeches? James: it's very much a sentiment that applies to you and how I feel in this instance Ava: as long as you stick to the classics Ava: Mark Darcy, Edward Cullen James: an easy promise to both make & stick to Ava: then I'm happy Ava: 😊 James: I'm happy to hear that Ava: I like it when you're happy James: I'm happy with you Ava: good Ava: that's a good start Ava: we'll see each other soon, but maybe we can call before then James: I'd like that James: when? Ava: whenever you can Ava: I'm going to have a quiet night in James: as soon as I can then Ava: perfect Ava: what are you doing now? James: everything you would if you were my actual au pair Ava: Awkward when I am just a pretty face James: you're not but you're also not on my payroll thankfully because that would be more awkward James: what are you doing? Ava: making some dinner Ava: then I'll see how long I can make a bath last, I reckon James: are you making the same thing for yourself as you were going to make for me? Ava: I would've made you something special James: you've earnt special too though Ava: I'll do a different kind of special then Ava: comfort food James: I normally can't stand compromises but that admittedly sounds like a lovely one Ava: aren't compromises key in kid negotiations though? James: I think that depends what kind of parent you are Ava: and you're the structure and routine, so you're the boundaries and rules that aren't up for discussion too James: whether I wish I could just give in sometimes or not Ava: you're the love too though Ava: you can tell they both adore you James: for as long as being everything doesn't wear me down to nothing, I'll keep being exactly what they need me to Ava: does anyone help Ava: like, give consistent help James: her parents are the closest I've got Ava: sounds really fucking stressful James: it was easier with one Ava: yeah Ava: now you're outnumbered James: & everyone helped more when Jay was younger because we were too James: I'm expected to know what I'm doing by now Ava: don't reckon anyone ever does though Ava: cop-out response, I'm aware but genuinely Ava: it's just everyone has the responsibility of fucking up their own kids James: every child is different & I'm not remotely the same person I was either James: an additional cop out response but true anyway James: the way I handle things now, or don't, is a world away from how I coped then so James: new challenges Ava: well, I can't say about then Ava: but you're nicer now than lots of dickheads 'round here that wait 'til they're 30-40 odd to have theirs James: thank you Ava: whatever missteps, having a parent that's a decent person is an advantage lots of kids don't get James: are yours? Ava: yeah, I think so Ava: like, they aren't storybook parents and they never have been that type, they're too fucked up for that Ava: but they did and would do anything for us, nothing we could bring at them would be too much, and my siblings have definitely put that to the test in recent years James: storybook parents tend to lead you into the woods using a trail of breadcrumbs or do nothing while you're placed under a curse anyway James: which sounds more like the school of child rearing my parents would subscribe to Ava: oh you're right Ava: the ones that aren't dead are usually terrible James: I need to write some better bedtime stories once the novel is finished Ava: you'd be perfect at that Ava: I can tell Ava: you can turn me into whatever animal sells best but it better be cute or I won't be able to help being slightly offended James: you'll be adorable & clever & kind, of course James: the good ideas can come from your animal counterpart as they always do from you when you're yourself Ava: very 🦗 Ava: she likes 🐕 a lot though, and I can handle that James: I was considering a water creature because you love swimming & are intending to be in the bath as long as you possibly can James: perhaps 🦦 Ava: see Ava: you're amazing at this Ava: that would be so cute James: you haven't seen the pictures yet, an amazing artist I am not Ava: we'll get you an illustrator James: male or unattractive? Ava: I'm not your wife, I don't need to make those sort of stipulations James: strictly hired on their ability to draw an adorable 🦦 it is then Ava: 👍 thinking James: [I was thinking he should send her some totally beautiful and expensive pudding because she said comfort food so that needs to arrive before she's in the bath otherwise that'd be annoying instead of sweet] Ava: James James: Ava Ava: how am I ever going to thank you? James: oh good, I thought you were say you didn't like it James: *about to Ava: I love it Ava: how are you just as sweet Ava: it's ridiculous James: it's ridiculous that I can't see you for days at a time James: I want you to know that you're in my thoughts more often than that Ava: if she knew how lucky she was, none of this would even be an issue, that's what's ridiculous Ava: but I'm sort of glad she doesn't Ava: selfishly James: she isn't lucky to have me, that's the obvious issue James: because to say that we don't work as a couple or aren't sweet to each other is an oversimplification Ava: did you ever? James: no Ava: I'm sorry James: I don't deserve any sympathy, I haven't always tried very hard Ava: It's still sad James: It's sad for them, I'd like to think that maybe one day they'll describe me as 'fucked up but...' as you did your parents though James: I'd happily settle for that Ava: I don't know how thrilled they'd be Ava: but there's not really a higher compliment so Ava: as far as goals go, it's a good one James: realistic goals are the only way forward Ava: I'll drink to that James: 🥂 since I can't actually Ava: I'm just eating my pudding, obviously James: very amiss of me not to send you 🍾 as well James: noted Ava: Shh Ava: it was perfect, you are Ava: there's always enough 🍾 'round mine to bathe in, should I feel so inclined James: I remember Ava: yeah Ava: I remember too James: I won't ask you to fill in the ensuing gaps in my memory, don't worry Ava: I tried not to pay that close attention, naturally James: 😇 naturally Ava: Hardly Ava: Buster was just pretty embarrassing James: I remember that as well James: though I took the 👑 in that regard so there's little room for me to say anything Ava: you aren't my brother so I guess it didn't really register James: it may have more closely registered had we stayed friends, I suppose Ava: He didn't stay, period James: precisely Ava: 🤷 James: if he had & we were still friends, there wouldn't be a you & I so Ava: depends how good friends you were Ava: think you'd have to be much better than you were, right? James: it would be an added complication regardless & there are more than enough of those Ava: very true James: no offense to your brother but I would rather have your company than his Ava: 😂 I should hope so James: you could improve your ⚽ skills but James: Jay'll help you Ava: Slander Ava: I could be semi-pro, you don't know 😏 James: 😂 Ava: I'm not though, don't want to get anyone's hopes up here Ava: definitely come back to bite me if I try and impress you with my dribbling skills 🙄 James: I won't wait for you to indignantly explain the off side rule to me, it's okay Ava: we're both better than that cliche James: I hope so Ava: besides, I have ZERO interest in being a sports journalist thank you Ava: not putting that out into the universe James: or a WAG presumably Ava: not unless he has an interesting personality to go with the ball control James: some of them must Ava: probably be better going with a female player but I doubt they're girlfriends go in for the WAG label Ava: not invested enough to champion it solo James: it'd be a slightly less stereotypical existence Ava: except every lesbian is either a footballer, cop or farmer James: I'll have to take your word for it Ava: yes, I'm very reliable James: well I'm sorry, you can't be the novel's narrator Ava: I like your words too much, that's fine James: you're too kind to me Ava: no James: yes James: because it's another failing of mine that I can't get inside your head in order to write those words Ava: I like when you tell them to me Ava: with your voice James: can I call you? Ava: yes James: [does and I vote it lasts for hours and hours because they are cute and high key] Ava: [agreed]

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

mystery punk girl

alright fellas i gotta make sure i don’t embarrass myself this time, we got like, stakes and shit now. SO *breaks fingers* let’s make a masterpost of theories

aka i heard someone was interested in some mystery punk girl theories and decided to collect all the one’s i’ve gotten so far

tl;dr: mystery punk girl could literally be anything/anyone. we go over a few theories, notably ones that paint her as a younger sibling to the Calypso twins (Tyreen = First Sister). we also have one where she is a fraternal twin to Ava and mirrors Troy as the non-Siren-twin of a relationship. we also talk about why she hasn’t been getting a lot of cultist worship, like maybe she’s gone missing, or died. also that she may betray the twins (if! she was ever on their side to begin with! 👀) because her color scheme is one of a friend and tbh the twins seem suuuper close and she doesn’t seem to be getting any recognition from the cult.

from the numskull pin page, also where we learned she’s listed as ‘Punk Girl’

so to get to the point, the most obvious theory is that mystery masked girl is the younger (est?) sibling to the twins.

when mouthpiece talks in the beginning of the HBC demo, he calls Tyreen the ‘first sister’. I mention that in a post here (during my live post spamming of the event lol)

it’s mostly interesting because when you refer to someone as ‘the first’, usually the second part of that is what you’re referring to. 

@sugar-high-viking​ brought this to my attention as well when the pins dropped, and also made a great point that she might be either a half-sibling (different colored hair), OR, to tie into my atlas theory about the twins, a similar experiment, but not blood-related (that part is in the notes of said post, i copied it here for easier reading)

which i adore because atlas twins is my favorite theory that’s probably never going to happen. (also hi if you’re reading this, sorry for the tag! i wanted to give credit because that was brilliant)

we do have a biiiit more stuff to go over.

take the mask of mayhem (yes im still working on that analysis, i promise!! i do like a facet a day if im not working on other stuff)

the whole backdrop thing feels to me like an order of importance.

we have the God Queen at the very top and in the middle. 

on her left is the vault hunters, who of course are going to have a prominent role in the story.

on her right is Troy, her right-hand man (ala the cosplay guide) 

and below Troy we have Mystery Punk Girl. can i call her MPG? i feel like i’m allowed to call her MPG

So her and Troy are about the same level as the Vault Hunters.

We can’t really infer that Tyreen is the oldest sibling (First Sister, with Troy possibly being the Second Brother? Or, Troy is the First Brother, Tyreen is the First Sister, and MPG is the Second Sister. i’d imagine the latter is correct because the former would have to use First Sibling to be correct) but we can guess that things on top are ordered in terms of importance.

And considering we haven’t seen NPG in ANY promo material or trailers yet? yeah i imagine she’s not shown off like the twins are, which would explain her lower level. now if that’s because she’s too important for them to be flashy with her, or if because they don’t think she’s worthy, or they want to protect her, or whatever, I wouldn’t be able to say.

Furthermore, we can also guess she’s not in an Angel-type situation. It’s heavily implied Ava is the Siren successor to Maya (but not officially stated). We know she has feathers on her outfit, but as I found out a bit ago, those (likely) aren’t meant to represent the wings that Tyreen and Lilith have on the MoM. They’re part of the clothing some cultists wear (possibly to emulate her looks like they do with Troy and Tyreen).

pictures for proof:

again, none of this is proven, as Ava nor Maya have wings on the MoM, but it is interesting to note. Also, if Ava does end up being a Siren (say her tattoos take a while to grow big enough for us to see, or they appear after her powers come in, fixing the Angel w/ no tattoos on jack’s desk “plot hole” we see in tps) then there’s no way for Punk Girl to have been a Siren.

unless.

ohohohoh...

okay, we know for a fact Troy’s red tattoos aren’t there because of Lilith. 

As of right now, we have officially sourced stuff showing him with his red tattoos during the HBC (on the hologram), which we’ve proven takes place before the Sanc-III scene where Lilith gets her powers stolen.

there are plenty of theories as to why he’s got those tattoos then: because the twins were conjoined, they got the powers from a vault (the one shown on the walls of the HBC), they were experiments, they were experiments because they were conjoined twins, they’re fake Sirens, fake Sirens due to the experiments, etc, etc. i could go on for ages, but im not gonna, cause we’re not here for this.

im going to take the ‘the twins were conjoined’ theory and run with it for a secco. we had that interview where paul sage said at one point either in the development cycle OR in the timeline (the wording is not clear), the twins were conjoined twins. We’ve also seen that the spanish (i believe!) translation of the Calypso Twins yields the version that says they’re conjoined, not just normal twins. so we’re going to hope it’s the right theory.

we know there can only be 6 sirens in the universe. if tyreen was chosen but was still conjoined with her brother, it’s possible he could’ve been messed up by the magic or advanced tech or whatever it is that picks Sirens, and that’s where the red tattoos come from.

So what if MPG is the same way? twin to Ava, ended up not being the one who got the Siren power, rebelled and joined the CoV in hopes of getting her own powers, maybe even to get Tyreen to heal her since it’s possible having a twin with Siren powers can cause an affliction to the other twin. 

It’d be really interesting if the two were abandoned at a young age and it ended up being that Ava was picked up by the Order of the Impending Storm and MPG wasn’t, as Ava was a Siren (like Maya) and MPG wasn’t, so she turns to the cult for help/support/whatever and the twins take a shine to her and basically adopt her as their little sibling. 

(awww maaan i still gotta do my Maya masterpost. hmmm so much to do, so little time...)

tho, that’s 100% unfounded and me spitballing into the void. mostly cause i think she’s gonna end up looking a lot older in game than she does in the MoM. though, in defense, she is titled ‘Punk Girl’, not ‘ Punk Lady’ or ‘Punk Woman’ or whatever. so there’s that, and it seems wild they’d be introducing 2 young girls around the same age and NOT have them be related in some way. even if they’re just storyline parallels to each other (Ava having everything because she’s a Siren and MPG not)

A better theory, is that she’s the 3rd leader/sibling/figurehead of the cult. The game revolves around the number 3, it’s even acknowledged in universe.

cover art of a high-ranking cultist (the one with the rakk wings on the MoM, im assuming)

which is referenced in actual in-game art

we see it in the background of the behind closed doors intro

and i imagine there must be an in-universe reason for this very important cultist (TM) to be signalling the number three, right?

there’s certainly more than 3 Vaults. More than 3 opened at the time too. 

3 pieces to the Vault Map? but the twins got that in its entirety. no reason to look for all three parts.

once lily gets her powers removed, there are 3 Sirens in play (that we know are 100% confirmed atm) Tyreen, Maya, Amara.

yeah, i think the most reasonable answer is that the number 3 is tied to the cult in some way.

while i find it hard to believe she’s something as prominent in the cult as a third figurehead (lack of statues, posters, acknowledge at all whatsoever), i could 100% see her being a third sibling, however.

So why isn’t she being worshipped like the twins? Maybe they’re keeping her out of the light for a reason. 

Maybe she’s sick, like Troy, but Ty can’t heal her right away for some reason, or she picked Troy over her or smth (we’re told troy is the smart one, afterall, maybe Ty decided to pick the sibling she’d get the most use out of. or the one she’s closer to, being twins and all). 

I had that dumb theory that Tyreen is Demeter (Troy is Demophon) and MPG is Persephone, taken away by the Vaults/Eridians/whatever in the twins’ attempt to heal her and either it locked her away somewhere, or it killed her. (Her being sick could also explain the ventilator she’s wearing, but i have another theory about that in just a secco.) And her being missing/dead is part of the reason Tyreen and Troy are trying to get the ultimate power, they’re trying to bring her back to life/heal her. And it could explain why she isn’t being referenced at all in most worship art, maybe the twins banned it or whatever. but if she is sick, i wonder why she wasn’t just miraculously healed by the Guardians (the Watcher specifically?) like whatsherface in TPS.

She could also be something like their secret weapon, maybe she has knowledge about something we don’t yet- be it warp travel, eridium testing, Sirens, Vaults, Eridians, etc, that’s giving the twins the better edge. Eridium testing could explain the ventilator, plus we see a giant waterfall of somethin’ glowing purple and i would bet it’s slag/eridium. 

plus you know im a strong believer of my ‘the twins are using the chemical sludge of elpis to give their followers superpowers’ theory. i mean, if they actually are teleporting the moon (and NOT blowing it up), then it could almost make sense if they want their source of superjuice near their new base of operations/vault/whatever. mostly because we haven’t yet seen Ty give anyone Lily’s powers. As far as we know right now, she’s the sole holder of Lilith’s powers. at the very least, they’re mutating them with eridium/slag. but i wanna believe! so maybe MPG is their way of doing that. giving them insider knowledge of the chemical sludge on the moon, doing tests on it, subjecting the cultists to it, etc. We do see the big boy cultist smack dab in the middle of the mask with rakk wings, which are kind of a corruption of the angel wings we see the Sirens have. and since the Lost Legion Eternal basically have knockoff Siren/Guardian powers due to the chemical sludge on elpis, it would make sense.

she COULD also be our way into the cult. we know nothing about the gal, maybe she’s going to provide us a way to get insider knowledge. im sure whatever the twins post they’re fine with their cultists seeing, so we’d need someone higher up in the proverbial ladder to give us the good info. i do think it’s interesting she does not match the Twins’ colorscheme at ALL. she’s gray and black, yeah, but she’s also pink and orange (yellow?). 

compare these two

to this:

it seems off that, if we are to consider them a unit, their colors clash so hard. (seriously, red and pink? oh my god!) I could almost see it as their way of hinting that she’s not 100% conforming to the twins.

I could also kinda see her being jealous of the relationship her older siblings have, how they’re so close because they’re twins and they share this bond over the Siren tattoos/starting a cult together. I could see her betraying them at some point because she’s sick of being pushed into the background. the pink and orange is a nice color combo compared to the reds and blacks. she certainly looks designed to be a friend.

anyway, that’s all i wrote today. im kinda tied, might add onto this later as i keep wrackin’ my brain trying to think of more theories.

[toboldlywrite]

Unfinished

So I know people wanted stuff with backstory and crew shenanigans and I promise I am working on something great but for now, have another slice of Claire and Tobias's domestic life before Plot went down.

Tagging some possibly interested people: @lady-redshield-writes @cog-writes @ava-burton-writing @silverbird-scrive @bluemartlet (let me know if you want on or off the list!)

Tobias had been thinking about tacos all day. Friday was technically take-out day, but he knew it wouldn’t take much convincing for Claire to agree to him cooking, especially since he was already carrying three bags of groceries up the stairs into their apartment. But when he nudged open the door he’d barely managed to unlock with half a hand, neither Claire nor Chewbacca was there to greet him. That wasn’t so odd, though, that he didn’t wait to call for them before making his way into the kitchen to put the bags down somewhere.

Only to find that there was nowhere to put them.

Something not unlike a hurricane had attacked the room, covering the counters with newspapers and crumpled sheets of paint-splattered paper towels and paint brushes that had seen better days. The table was hardly visible underneath the sheets of newspaper; bottles of paint, even more paint brushes, and canvases with half-finished sketches or paintings strewn all over it. There were no less than three cups of dirty paint water among the mess, one perched dangerously close to the edge. Tobias slowly slid it back into safer territory, catching Chewbacca’s eye. The cat glanced towards the living room, then back up at him with what he could have sworn was worry in his gaze.

Or maybe that was Tobias projecting. He picked up the nearest piece of abandoned artwork; a sketch of a planet, half of it painted in. It certainly wasn’t Earth- the continents were all wrong; the most massive of which looked like the talon of a giant eagle, ready to pounce on the smaller landmass below it. The color scheme was different, too: oceans a deep emerald green and the land different shades of brown fading into oranges and pinks. Around it were four hurriedly drawn circles- unformed moons waiting for the artist to bring them to life.

But given the number of canvases, Tobias doubted the artist was going to get around to that any time soon.

He made his way around the table, careful not to step around Chewbacca’s tail, while making just enough noise to not startle Claire. She stood just in front of the window, staring into the sky beyond with concentration intense enough to direct the clouds in their path overhead. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her fingers tapping out a frantic rhythm on each.

He hesitated. He remembered all-too well the last time he'd seen her like that, and braced himself for the worst. “Claire?”

Her tapping faltered for just a second, the only indication that she’d heard him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” Her answer was too short, too flat. Tobias's heart dropped to somewhere in the apartment under them. It's her dad again, isn't it?

“Claire.” He stopped next to her, and only then did she look over at the painting in his hands. “Please. Talk to me. What happened?”

“None of them were right,” she muttered.

“What do you mean? Is this about the paintings?” Claire liked sticking her hands into all sorts of hobbies- she had always had a bit of a restless spirit. But while her creative pursuits were chaotic,  they were also usually joyful. The only time they weren't was when she was trying to distract herself.

She sighed, turning to the window again. It still took her a minute to speak, but this time Tobias could feel her searching for words in the silence.

“You know that feeling… when you walk into a room and instantly forget why you came in there?”

He nodded, even though she probably didn’t see. “It helps to retrace your steps.”

Her smile was thin and didn’t reach her eyes. “Exactly. But what if you felt that way for your entire life? What if you had no idea which doorway you came in through, and which steps you needed to retrace to find it again? How would you ever remember what it was you were doing there?” Her fingers stopped tapping, instead gripping tightly around her arm until the skin went white.

Tobias blinked. “That… that sounds like anxiety to me.”

“What?” She looked at him clearly for the first time since he’d come home, like she’d been snapped out of a trance.

“It’s not how I experience it. Not exactly. But it does sound like it.”

“Maybe.” But she bit the corner of her lip- she was just humoring him.

He set the painting down on the back of the couch and grabbed her hands. “Maybe you should see someone,” he suggested as gently as he could.

She scoffed. “Tobias, I don’t need-”

“Just, hear me out, ok?”

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, but stayed quiet.

“You were the one who talked me into going, remember? Berated me, actually.”

“I did not,” she grumbled.

Tobias rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ok. But the point is, you were right. It did help. I still worry too much, but I know how to handle it. And now it’s really just about things that warrant worry in the first place. You don’t need to do this on your own, Claire. You deserve to be helped and not have to feel like that all the time.”

She took a deep, long breath and sighed it out. “Ok, fine. Maybe you’re right.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “You are right,” she corrected. This time the smile did reach her eyes, even though she tried to cover it. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” His smile managed to coerce a better one out of her. “Now can you please clear off the table so I can make dinner?”

Claire glanced back into the kitchen and groaned, catching sight of the cataclysm she’d left behind. “I’m never doing art again.”

“Why not?” He picked the painting back up, handing it to her. “You can’t leave this unfinished. Remember what you told me?”

“That an unfinished work of art is an unfinished world. Literally, in this case.” She made a face at all the paintings on the table. “I have a lot of worlds to finish.”

“Well finish them some other time. We need room for tacos.”

[wherearemyfemaleheroes]

Why Sara Lance doesn’t have her own personal story

We were promised more personal stories for Sara this season, but it seems it’s not happening. She is a leader and a hero and that is great, but where is her personal development, where is her personal connections. She seems like the most lonely hero, who lost everything and everyone that matters to her. She was presented as a person with no real purpose in her personal life except being on the WaveRider. She does not have a place as a vigilante in Star city. Even her own father does not seem to remember her and they won’t even give her scenes with her death sister’s doppelganger, something that is actually big story line for Quantin Lance and Dinah Drake on Arrow, but not fro Sara.

Her character development suffers all the time. From the moment she was killed in season 3, just to give a story line for the remaining characters, even though these remaining characters could have had stories without her death. And she had so many story lines and potential. We were robbed from her league days and Canary creation in the expense of other characters development. Then in season 4 she was resurrected, but the whole after math of her being dead and then coming back to life was never handled. She shared no personal scenes with her friends on Arrow. We never saw how she felt about death and coming back to life, about the changes, which happened while she was gone. They presented her again like this character with no real place and is just lost soul. She had just one small scene with her sister and father saying goodbye.

In Legends of Tomorrow she had two big story lines - grieving for her sister and revenging her and  becoming a leader, but both of these stories had very little screen time. Just to mention that in season 1 her story line about her bloodlust was barely explored. The grieve for her sister was lonely and misunderstood, because her team never showed real sympathy. Her decision not to revenge her was also lonely and never acknowledged as heroic and selfless. She doesn’t have a close friend and someone to share and to feel real connection with. It seems that Kendra, Amaya and Jax were at some point her friends but there was never really personal scene for Sara with those characters. She had her most personal scenes with Cold and Rip, but those two are not there any more and that never let to something real or bigger as a relationship.

And this comes to her romantic relationships. Her most real and deep relationship she had on screen was with Oliver Queen on Arrow and it lasted half season, when they made her brake up with him, out of character, just to make room for other ladies. This relationship was brushed off and painted as fling and not revisited any more, although these characters had big emotional connection and big history and were practically soul mates.. Her relationship with Nyssa al Gul was never explored on screen with flashbacks or in current days, although it was a relationship that formed her as the person she became after the boat and after Ivo. She had one brief goodbye scene  with her after her resurrection, and that’s it. She never shared personal scene with Oliver after coming back to life either, which would have been the most natural thing for both of them. 

On Legends of Tomorrow she was presented like this flirtatious character that wants fun, and that’s good, but her personal life suffers extremely. She was hinted to have romantic feelings for characters who were not meant for her. Neither Rip, nor Cold had story lines that were focused on their relationship with Sara. Cold was always there for Mick, and Rip had his own independent story line, which comes always at odds with Sara’s. 

Now in the crossover is teased that she will have fling with Alex Danvers from Supergirl, but how is this a story line for Sara? The whole crossover will revolve around other people’s relationships and weddings and she again won’t have any personal development or contact. She even won’t have her own evil version from different Earth. Her meeting Alex is great, but Alex is a character from a different show and is connected to other major relationship, so this won’t lead to anywhere for Sara.

It is also teased that she will find love this season and that it will probably be with agent Ava Sharp, but seeing how it goes it seems it won’t happen really, and on screen. The two of them till now shared small scenes in which they are at odds and do not share any personal connection. Agent Sharp is also a character built to be antagonistic to the Legends team and it would be difficult to squeeze her presence more on the WaveRider, or team her up with Sara so any bonding to happen. She seems like Sara’s opposite and there isn’t any real chemistry between them.

I just feel sad that my favorite character and amazing hero is so neglected as personal development, whether it is family, love or friendship. I want to see 

[smilinstar]

Fic: all those roads, they lead you here

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Rip Hunter/Sara Lance; Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe

Summary:

“I’m not in love,” she retorts, setting the trap.

He walks into it willingly.

“Oh trust me, Agent Sharpe,” he says with a sad smile, “you most definitely are.”

Author’s Note: This is a Time Canary fic, but there’s a fair bit of Sara/Ava in it, because clearly the show’s setting up for it. I haven’t written in so long, so I’m not sure how this has turned out. Hopefully it doesn’t suck too bad.

Can also be read here on AO3

 :::::

 He’s the first to spot it.

The Beginning.

There’s a flicker of a smile, both fond and amused, on her typically humourless face as she watches the Legends walk away. The background of the moment is picturesque – the Waverider filling most of the horizon, glowing amber as the sun sets over Star City.

But his focus is not on them. And neither is hers.

No. It’s on the back of blonde waves against familiar khaki green, and the determined, almost angry, most definitely defiant, strut of a gait. Recognisable even with the lengthening distance.

It’s a metaphor for something, Rip’s sure, but this version of himself isn’t one for poetry.

The expression on her face sits uncomfortably in his gut. It’s a distinct sense of foreboding lined by an understanding of what’s happening and filled with the knowledge that he certainly has no right to pass judgement.

After all, it takes one to know one.

She finally feels the prickle of his gaze, and turns to looks at him. A fleeting glimmer of guilt and confusion passes over her, and he thinks to himself oh I know that feeling. Very well, indeed.

“Sir?” she asks, straightening up her spine, all laser focussed and pushing away the remnants of the spell Sara Lance has cast on them both. “What’s your order? Should we go after them?”

He breathes out, looks back into the distance as the Waverider cloaks itself away and answers, “no. Not this time Agent Sharpe. Not this time.”

:::::

 She’s getting a sick sense of enjoyment out of this.

It surprised the hell out of her when it first happened.

The blush that had risen on Agent Sharpe’s cheeks at the casual compliment had definitely been her intention, she just hadn’t expected it to work.

So, she’d stowed that little snippet away, and had used the months that followed to start chipping away at her stone exterior one compliment at a time.

And the result is this:

An arm pressed against her neck, as deadly as a knife (which would have been her first choice of weapon if the roles were reversed), crowded against the wall of the Waverider corridor, and a burst of hot breath in her face as Ava snarls, “stop it.”

“Stop what?” Sara asks, the smirk on her lips tainting any innocence that question could have held.

“You know exactly what!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, letting her eyes finish the rest of the lie as they fall to her lips and tell her everything she needs to know.

“Rip was right when he said you were trouble.”

The smile that tugs on Sara’s face then is genuine. It comes freely and without thought, but it doesn’t have time to breathe as Agent Sharpe finally surrenders, pressing her into the wall and chasing away her thoughts of the man with a blazing gaze and bleeding heart.

The moment is a culmination of all the tension soaked arguments and unwanted attraction building for months.

A ticking time-bomb that Sara has no qualms in detonating.

She’ll deal with the aftermath later, she decides.

(If at all.)

 :::::

 It’s hard not to see it.

The glances and smirks, and the utter lack of discretion that becomes more and more apparent over time.

It surprises him, because it’s Agent Sharpe. He’s worked with her for five years now – one of the very first agents he’d hired when the Time Bureau had come to life, an idea born from the ashes of the disgraced Time Masters – and he’s never met a more strait-laced agent. She’s a stickler for rules with a pristine service record, just as immaculate as her uniform and with not a hair out of place.

But this? This has Sara Lance written all over it.

He thinks he should be mad.

He’s not.

He thinks it’s perhaps another word that wouldn’t be amiss in a rhyming couplet.

But he’s not a poet.

And he is most definitely not sad.

He doesn’t watch Agent Sharpe leave as he dismisses her with the details of today’s mission, a Level 4 anachronism that shouldn’t cause her too much trouble, and instead finds himself watching Sara.

The soft curve of her lips is a dagger in his chest and the hand he presses to his tie is just an excuse to rub at the phantom ache.

Of course, she notices him staring. Turns to meet his gaze and he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blush at being caught.

“What?” she asks.

He clears his throat, and holds her gaze, “I want my Agent left in one piece after this, Miss Lance.”

She jerks her head back, mouth opening in surprise. There’s a flicker of confusion and amusement, almost as if she doesn’t know whether to be offended or pleased at the insinuation. She opens her mouth to retort, but he cuts her short.

“I’m not blind. Nor am I stupid.”

Her lips curve into a smirk, “debateable.”

He ignores her. “This isn’t a game. Not to her.”

This time her expression is a little harder to decipher, but there’s a hint of something else glinting in her eyes that fans at dying flames of hope.

“You care about her.” It’s a statement, and he doesn’t deny it.

“I care about you both.”

Her sharp edges soften. “Well you have a funny way of showing it.”

“I had terrible teachers.”

She laughs, and it lights up around him. The stark white walls of the Bureau somehow tinted in warm yellows and oranges now that she’s standing here with a smile on her face. “That you did.”

He shifts on his feet, because he’s not sure he’s made his point, and it’s important. So important that he hears her. “Sara-”

“Relax. I hear you. Though,” she adds, the smile turning sad, “I think it’s me you should be worrying about here.”

She turns around and leaves him with those words. Doesn’t wait around to hear his murmured reply.

“I always do.”

 :::::

 “This doesn’t change anything.”

“I never assumed it did,” Sara lies.

She’d hoped, of course, but then the self-loathing that twists Ava’s lips is painfully familiar, piercing that cursed emotion through the heart every single time they do this.

And so she watches. Watches the back of her, bra straps disappearing from view as she slips her previously crisp white shirt back on. Watches as arms reach up and wind long strands of hair into a quick, non-fussy, regulation bun. Watches as she spins on the spot, eyes scouring her room for the jacket she so carelessly pushed off her shoulders last night and kicked across the floor.

“Are you going to tell him?”

The question leaves her mouth without thought. As if it had been lingering there on the tip of her tongue, hiding in plain sight, just waiting for a moment to make a run for it. She doesn’t tell her that Rip already knows, and yet Sara can’t decide what she wants to hear.

“Yes,” is Ava’s answer, the same as always, and she barely needs a second to think it over. “It’s protocol.”

Sara nods, “of course it is.”

Her glib answer prompts a scathing reply. “Not all of us display an almost pathological need to disregard the rules at every turn.”

“Hmm, and yet you’ve had all those chances and you’ve still not said a word.”

Ava says nothing to that, focuses instead on finding her shoes.

“What exactly is this?” Sara presses.

She takes a breath, doesn’t meet her eyes, and answers. “A mistake. This is a mistake. And it won’t happen again, Miss Lance.”

She grins back, and it’s not altogether too kind, “you said that the last time.”

“And I won’t say it again.”

Promises, promises.

 :::::

 There’s remorse on her face.

Guilt and self-loathing, but if he takes the moment to delve a little deeper, he thinks he catches a glimpse of a vulnerable heart, teetering the edge of a ravine and the oblivion that awaits below, reflecting back at him.

Rip’s not surprised.

He saw it coming, of course.

“I’m sorry,” Ava says.

“Why?”

She shifts on the spot, the answer is obvious at least to her mind, and so of course she’s unsettled by the unexpected digging but there’s a point he’s trying to make and he hopes she plays ball. He knows she will, and she doesn’t disappoint. “Because I should have told you sooner.”

“I already knew,” he admits.

And at that, she looks flummoxed to say the least.

“Sir? Why didn’t you-”

“Say anything? It’s not my place.”

Now he thinks she just looks irritated, as if there’s something obvious staring her in the face and she can’t quite grasp it.

“But you’re . . . but what about the Time Bureau-”

“Are not the Time Masters. You don’t need my permission to fall in love.”

And perhaps it’s the way his voice falters at the words despite his best efforts that turns Ava’s gaze sharp and assessing.

“I’m not in love,” she retorts, setting the trap.

He walks into it willingly.

“Oh trust me, Agent Sharpe,” he says with a sad smile, “you most definitely are.”

 :::::

 Sara’s not surprised to find herself back here, and yet she can’t help herself. In between gasps for air as she presses her forehead against hers, she has to ask.

“I thought you said this wouldn’t happen again?”

Ava smiles back at her and it’s so rare a sight that Sara doesn’t know what to do with it. “I told Rip. He knows. He doesn’t care.”

He doesn’t care.

The words hammer inside her chest, and as if that isn’t enough, they squeeze around her ribs painfully and she wonders if there’s any air left in her lungs.

He’s a liar, a snide voice reminds her. Always has been.

“Sara?” Ava asks, tilting her head back a fraction, watching her closely. She mistakes her silence for doubt, disbelief, stunned euphoria.

It isn’t any of those.

“It’s okay,” she reassures, curling a stray strand of hair away from her face. “He said it’s okay.”

“Well that’s great,” Sara says, and tries to smile and make it look effortless.

It isn’t.

She hopes Ava doesn’t notice.

She does.

 :::::

 It’s one of those rare occasions where the Legends and Bureau work together and save the day. Admittedly, the success of it hinged on Mick and his rather God-given knack for thievery but he’d be damned if he gives him more than a “good work, Mr Rory” in acknowledgement.

The grin on his face and his grunted reply as he walks by placing a hefty slap to his shoulder tells him that perhaps the man is finally learning to read between the lines.

With Mr Rory’s departure, he’s left standing alone on the Waverider.

Alone apart from Sara, who remains determined to give him the cold shoulder.

She hasn’t spoken a word to him all day.

A breath leaves his lips on a sigh as she watches her wordlessly turn on her feet and retreat into the office. His old office, which hasn’t really changed a whole lot. Apart from a few knick-knacks that are Sara’s, added almost seamlessly to his own collection of trinkets, the place is the same and still feels like home.

He hesitates only a moment and follows after.

In hindsight, his terrible attempt at banter to break the ice hadn’t been the wisest of ideas.

No sooner does he utter the words, “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he’s greeted by a flying dagger, hurtling through the still air, landing not three inches away, firmly embedding itself in the antique globe brushing against the sleeve of his jacket. The tip of the dagger finds its home in the heart of the Atlantic Ocean, and he’s too distracted by the hammering of his own, the whistle of sharp metal cutting through the air still ringing in his ears and the offended squeak of the globe as it spins on its axis, to appreciate the symbolism.

Smartly, Rip decides not to remark with a ‘you missed’ given he knows well enough that she hadn’t. He swallows the words down, and takes a tentative step forward.

“Sara . . .”

“Where do you get off?!”

The vehemence behind the words are almost enough to make him stumble back a few steps, but he holds steadfast.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you-”

“Permission?” she spits out. “We don’t need your permission!”

Oh, he thinks.

“I never gave you permission.”

She bristles with the anger. “You have no right-”

He cuts her off with a step forward and a shake of the head as he bursts out, “no, that’s not what I meant! I meant that I told Agent Sharpe exactly that. It’s none of my business.”

There’s a split-second where he thinks she visibly recoils at the words, and it only serves to confuse him. There’s more to this that he’s not understanding, and he thinks there’s no time like the present to tackle the gaping chasm between them. And so he asks.

“The real question, Miss Lance, is why are you so upset?”

She simply stares at him, and he wonders if she’ll say anything at all. But then she does. Two words, that tell him nothing at all.

“You lied.”

“About what?”

She bites down on her lower lip and he can see her warring with what’s weighing her down. He realises then that it’s not just any one thing, but she takes her pick from his multitude of sins and simply says, “when you left,” and stops. He puts the rest of the sentence together himself. They never really did talk about this, and it seems now is the time.

“Sara-” he breathes out, the only thing he can since the air around him is nothing but her. Sara. Sara. Sara. “I never meant-”

“Never meant what?” she spits out, and finally lets it all out. All that she’s been holding back from the shoddily patched up relationship he was a fool to think was on the mend. “Never meant it when you said I was a better captain, or when you insinuated that I was capable of leading this team without you; that our roles in protecting the world, this universe, time; that our team, meant something?”

He shakes his head, words rushing out on a frustrated breath as he steps closer. “They do, you do, I meant all of that.”

“You’re a liar, Rip. You always have been.”

He rubs a tired hand across his face, looks away and up at the ceiling, searching for the words, searching for something to make this right.

“Sara, forming the Bureau was never about passing judgement on you or the team. When I disbanded the Legends, I was trying to give you your lives back. Give you your choices back. So you didn’t have to do this anymore. Policing time should never have been your responsibility. It was always mine. Between losing,” he stops and sighs, and tries again. “Between losing Miranda and Jonas, and being betrayed by the Time Masters, I’d forgotten that.”

She stares back at him, and he thinks for a second he’s managed to get through to her, but then she’s taking a step forward, stopping mere inches from him, tilting her head back to meet his gaze head on, and he knows he’s wrong.

“And you did it again, Rip. Assumed you knew best for everyone. What we wanted. What we needed. You want to know why you were a terrible captain?” she literally snarls in his face, “because you never listen. You never ask us what we want.”

The words hurt more than any knife of hers ever could. Because he has listened. He’s listened to her, to them, so many times before.

Echoes of a past bounce off the metal and glass walls of the Waverider, conjuring up the images as if flipping through a leather-bound memory book. So many moments, and one steps out in sharp relief.

Because I couldn’t have my crew thinking I cared more for myself now could I?

And it’s not just that. No, because he has faith in them. Always has. Maybe, too much. Maybe Agent Sharpe is right, and his belief in Sara, in this team, is ridiculous. Simply misplaced fondness and an unwillingness to let go.

(He’s never been very good at that.)

“And what is it that you want Sara?” he asks, holding his breath.

Her face is exactly as he remembers. He marvels at how easily his mind has managed to summon up exact replicas of her at the most random of moments, how he still gets struck by the crystal clarity of her eyes, the little dimple in her chin. the infinite freckles for infinite stars. Nothing has changed he realises. Not really. Not this room. Not this ship. Not her. Not him. And not how he feels.

“I don’t know,” she whispers.

Something tells him the truth to his first question lies in those words.

He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Well, Miss Lance. You know where to find me when you figure it out.”

 :::::

 She’s been holding her breath for this exact moment the second it all started.

There’s always an End. Sara’s familiar enough with them to recognise when they’ve arrived.

“It’s for the best,” Ava tells her, locking away the sadness and hiding it away behind the stone-cold monument Sara had thought she’d broken her way through.

But it seems Agent Sharpe is an expert at picking up her crumbling pieces and putting herself back together again.

It’s not surprising.

Sara had been good at it too, once upon a time.

But this team. Rip. They’ve made her soft.

“For who?”

“For both of us.”

She shakes her head, leaning back against her desk, arms folding across her chest as a bitter snort of laughter leaves her lips. “Yeah. Right.”

“I’ll still be an Agent of the Bureau, I just won’t be a part of the team liaising with the Legends any longer.”

“You mean Rip’s reassigned you.” Her pulse spikes with anger, misplaced she knows even before Ava opens her mouth and corrects her.

“He had nothing to do with this. This was all my choice. I asked for the reassignment.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she laughs, and there’s not a trace of humour in it, “we both know I hate coming in last. So, I’m ending this before you do.”

Sara knows there’s a truth to the words. Her eyes flicker from Ava’s face, a face that has become unexpectedly important to her, and land on the antique globe in the corner. Her dagger still sits there in the heart of the ocean and it’s the rebelling beat of her own that asks, “who says I would have ended it?”

Ava doesn’t answer her, just rolls up the sleeve of her jacket and presses at the familiar device attached to her wrist.

“Maybe I did get this wrong,” she says then as the portal opens up behind her – a gaping doorway in the middle of the Waverider office leading to a non-descript horizon of trees and grass, a time and place she can’t put a finger to, and thus can’t follow. “Maybe he has everything to do with this.”

Sara opens her mouth to argue, but with a single step backwards she’s gone. Her last words echoing around the empty room is all she’s left with.

“You’ll figure it out.”

 :::::

 Rip falls into patterns, habits.

He’s done it before. It’s hard to break.

After Miranda and Jonas, it had been a self-destructive, one-minded pursuit for vengeance. It had left food and sleep a distant second thought.

It’s nowhere near as bad as that now. Though that isn’t to say he’s mastered the art of self-care by any means.

No. His responsibilities always take priority and so he spends most of his time at the Bureau – late into the evenings, and he’ll still be sitting there checking over daily reports, scouring the databases to make sure every anachronism that’s been dealt with hasn’t left any lasting scars to an already fractured and vulnerable timeline, only to then eventually fall asleep at his desk.

It hadn’t been until three months after the Bureau came together that he realised he’d been sleeping there. The cold truth was that the Bureau wasn’t the Waverider. Wasn’t home.

And so he had ended up renting a tiny apartment, manageable with his modest government stipend. With a bed and a bathroom and a tiny kitchenette, it’s all he needs.

He wouldn’t call it home either, but it’ll do.

No one knows where it is.

He’s never had anyone over.

And yet, somehow, he’s not surprised that she’s managed to hunt it down.

It’s only as he climbs the last few steps that he notices her through the wooden spindles of the banister, shoulder pressed to his door, blue eyes meeting his as soon as he stops on the landing.

He hesitates a fraction of a second before stepping forwards and retrieving his keys from his pocket. “And here I thought you would have just broken in.”

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

His lips twitch but he hides it away, focussing instead on getting the door open, before standing aside to let her in.

“Yes well,” he says to her back as she steps through the door and stops to take in her surroundings, “there’s very little you can do to surprise me anymore.”

She’ll take it as a challenge, he knows.

It’s what he’s counting on.

He moves around her, comes to a stop beside the window. It’s not much of a view, but he has no use for one anyway. Folding his arms across his chest, he watches her perusal of the room. She stops beside the old oak sideboard. A single bottle of whiskey sits beside the lamp there, and suddenly he has an inkling of where this is going. He’s both terrified and thrilled. Surprisingly it feels good, but he doesn’t give it away.

“So, Miss Lance,” he says instead, with a burgeoning smile, “what is it that you want?”

It’s a risk.

But they’re ready for it.

And she makes it worth his while when she answers him.

“Join me for a drink, Mr Hunter,” she grins, “and maybe I’ll tell you.”

 End.

[cafesandlatenights]

Chapter One [Beyond the Sunrise, LMMxReader]

Summary: The stranger from the diner is more familiar with your family than you realized.

Word Count: 2,377

Warnings: Slow burn, mentions of drinking?

Authors notes:  Sab - Guys. Dreams are coming true (specifically, mine). This is the first chapter and we are so excited to share with you guys! Mostly because pre-ITH Lin is my spirit animal.

Ren - You guys have no idea how excited we are for you to finally dive in with us into this story! Sab and I have a ~thing~ for pre-ITH Lin and the way this story flows when we write kinda speaks for itself. We really hope you guys enjoy it as much as we do!

askbox | masterlist | prologue | next chapter

“Mom, slow down- What do you need me to do?” You thanked the universe for having a slow day at your job when your mom called. Those phone calls were never calm or short, but today she sounded especially nervous. “Ava? Is she okay?”

“I got a call from school, hon, they asked to pick her up earlier, something about a stomach or a headache, I don’t remember.” You rolled your eyes at your mom’s neglect and how it never changed, even after having three daughters. “Since your job is closer to Hunter and I’m on the other side of the city I was wondering if-”

“If I can pick her up? Sure, I’ll have to talk to my boss but we’re having a slow day anyway.” You took a deep breath after listening to your mother giving you instructions on how to find your way inside Hunter like you have never been there, hanging up on her after a quick goodbye.

Getting the time off wasn’t a problem. Your manager was truly considerate when it came to family instances, and this hadn’t been the first time your mother dropped the ball with your freshman sister: your role as big sister doubled as a psychologist, driver, nurse and more often than it should, mother.

You checked yourself in the bathroom’s mirror at work, straightened the pencil skirt you hated so much and putt a few strands of hair back in place. Hunter was no place for you, you knew that the first time you stepped into the prestigious high school in jeans and a t-shirt during your little sister’s tour, earning a few side looks from other family members that were accompanying the kids as well.

You dreaded walking on the campus. Snooty teachers and teenagers that were already much smarter than you’d ever be put you on edge. If your sister was sick, however, you had no choice. Leaving a note for your co-worker by the desk telling them you’d be back soon and stepping out of the Natural History Museum, you made your way quickly to the parking lot, quickly finding your car: used and with way more mileage than it should, the old thing did the job just fine for now. You took some pride on having it, since it was one of your first purchases with your own salary, but the car was old.

At least that’s what your mother said. You liked the word vintage much more.

You had to admit it was a bit embarrassing rolling up to your sister’s prestigious school in the beater, but it was not like you had another option.

You knew the layout of the campus fairly well, and was able to navigate to the front office with little trouble. A quick conversation with a woman at the front desk had you stuck in a waiting room before being allowed access to the nurse’s office. Waiting was one of the few things that you utterly hated.

Waiting gives you time to think, thinking leads to overthinking, which was something that you already did too often without the spare time sitting in a room with nothing to do gave you. Your eyes wandered through the walls, all full of old pictures, almost historical ones, of classes that graduated before you were even born. The place was a museum almost as much as it was a school, and you noticed how different it was from the school you attended as a teenager.

Your school wasn’t the most funded or filled to the brim with the highest test scores in New York, but it was home for four years. So were the places nearby, your mind shifting your thoughts to the Salt & Pepper diner almost immediately. It was a place that had been up and running for decades - even when your mother was in high school.

You pictured how different the dynamics were back in her time, and how there was almost a zero percent chance she’d have had the night you had with Lin. Lin. You didn’t see him again ever since, nor had you asked Sonya about him, it wasn’t like you two were friends or anything.

Lin hadn’t had the time to return to the diner in the past week, the unscheduled early morning chat putting a dent in the time he set aside to grade papers.

It seemed like his week had been clouded with you, so much so that his students had begun to notice a certain off-ness to his attitude: he was distracted and would often lose his line of thought, which was really uncommon to Lin. He noticed some kids whispering to each other as he took a deep breath to collect himself to what looked like the millionth time that morning. Thankfully, a middle of the day prep period meant he could busy himself with making copies and catching up with his co-workers after the weekend.

The office was always his first stop, the copy machines promised to be flooded with other teachers with just as many stacks of papers as he had. To kill the time, he would listen in on the gossip the women at the front desk would dish - always taking their remarks with a grain of salt.

Usually it was what teachers they thought were hooking up (they had quite the idea that him and Mr. Martinez, the band teacher, would make a lovely couple). Today, they pouted over one of his favorite students.

“Poor girl, sick to her stomach and her mother can’t even come pick her up. The sister has to leave work.”

“Well, when was the last time we’ve even seen Ava’s mother? Orientation, maybe?”

Craning his neck to see if the line was moving along at all - it wasn’t - Lin abandoned his place and made a beeline for the nurse’s office. The fastest route was a straight shot, but Lin liked to avoid a certain section of the office where yard duties would squabble about the appropriate length of girls’ skirts.

A sudden left turn had him in the attendance office, only a few doors down from the nurse’s office. He stopped walking once he passed by the waiting room and saw someone. You. He walked back, catching your attention.

“[Y/N]?” The happiness in his voice matched the sparkle in his eyes, it was adorable. “What are you doing here?”

“Lin, hey!” You got up, wrapping your arms around his neck for a quick hug that lasted a few seconds too long. You felt your heart beating fast once he let go of you. “I’m picking up my sister, she got sick and my mom couldn’t come...” Your eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Oh! I’m working.” His hand found his teacher badge, dangling from a lanyard around his neck.

“Mr. Miranda. English department.” You read aloud. “Substitute teacher?”

“Yep, I have to pay the bills somehow,” he shrugged. “I feel bad about the other night. Venting to you until the sun came up and I didn’t even ask for your number.”

“Oh, right! I felt like it was my fault, I just left after I- I’m sorry,” you replied, with an apologetic smile. “Here,” you shuffled through your bag for a scrap of paper as he fished for a pen from his pants pocket.

You hurriedly scribbled down the digits, passing him the crinkled note.

“The Natural History Museum?” He asked, squinting at the faded watermark above your number.

“You’re not the only one that has bills to pay,” you shrugged. “Front desk, half-time job. Welcome to the American Museum of Natural History, how can I help you today?” Your ‘customer service’ voice had Lin giggling, recalling a similar tone he used when he served strangers one dollar burgers.

“Hey sis I- Mr. Miranda, hi!” Your little sister broke into the waiting room with her backpack hanging on one shoulder, a small smile showing up on her face when she noticed who you were talking to.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Your arms went over her shoulder as you pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“Nauseous. Tired. Hungry.” She listed.

“Did you go out drinking last night?” He teased, knowing your angel of a little sister wouldn’t even consider it.

“Totally wasted.” She answered, “Don’t tell my sister, she’s lame.”

“And with that,” a glare in her direction silenced any more of her teasing, “we should get you home. Lin, it was great to see you again.”

“Likewise,” he nodded. “Maybe next time we have coffee you’ll at least try not to peel the crust off your grilled cheese?”

“We’ll have to find that out,” you joked. “You have my number now, so…”

“I’ll text you.” He announced, making you giggle while you left with your little sister, who looked at the both of you with curiosity.

Once Ava and you got in the car, you bit your lip, turning on the radio to avoid any conversation about what just happened, but at the same time you knew that never stopped Ava before. Just as you expected, after a few songs, she started asking questions.

“So, how do you know Mr. Miranda?” You little sister asked while turning the radio’s volume down a few numbers.

“We met at a diner a few nights ago.” You simply commented, not taking your eyes from the streets. “Had to get some work done and we were the only people there.”

“He is awesome, you know?” You knew. “And he totally asked you out there.” The certain girlish giggle that escaped your sister reminded you that she was only fourteen.

“What? No!” You turned to her once he car stopped at a red light. “He knows it was just as friends… Right? I mean it’s coffee not dinner.”

“I don’t think so, sis.” Ava was typing on her phone while talking. “You should consider it as a date, though.”

“Ava, I have a boyfriend, remember? Stephen?”

“Stephen is a bore, [Y/N].”

“I thought you liked him!”

“I do, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is really boring. Mr. Miranda is one of my favorite people in the world, you can’t expect me to be on Stephen’s side on this one.”

“This is so none of your business,” you commented, right before arriving at your mother’s street, finding a parking spot right away. “Okay, you’re home.”

“You’re not coming in?” Ava’s eyes widened.

“I’m avoiding any chance to face mom, Ava.” You took a deep breath, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you need anything, just call okay?”

She mumbled a reply, swinging her bag on and closing the car door behind her. You sat and watched her safely disappear into the house, firing up the car and pulling out of the spot.

You hated to just leave your little sister by herself at home, but if you lingered too long your mother may corner you into a conversation. And the conversation would be considered a passive-aggressive attack on every single aspect of your life: your mom loved you, you knew that, but she also had an abnormal amount of high expectations about your personal, professional and academic life.

She could drone on for hours about Stephen. How he was perfect for you. How he had a career and aspirations and money. Stephen was the only aspect of your life that your mother happily approved of and ironically, the only aspect of your life you couldn’t care less about.

Work was always a nice escape from thinking about these things. Forcing smiles and directing tourists distracted you from the man you had dedicated over two years of your life to. He wasn’t horrible.

He was nice, and sometimes he made you laugh and he definitely had money, something that came in handy when you decided to move out and he promptly invited you to move in with him. No matter how nice he was, however, you had to agree with your sister. He was a bit boring.

Work only lasted so long, you conceded, enjoying the final moments of solitude as you drove home from the museum. After dropping your bag by the door, you noticed the sun setting, giving the whole place a golden glow. As you walked towards Stephen’s home office, you found the guy typing while listening to someone on the phone, which was stuck between his shoulder and his ear.

You watched him for a few moments until he ended the call, going to him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Hey.”

“Hey, I didn’t even hear you coming.”

“I noticed,” you replied with a smile. “Busy day?”

“As always. Yours?”

“Had to pick up Ava at school, mom called last minute.” You sat on his desk by his laptop while he finished typing. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Anything you want,” he smiled.

And that was that. He would hold himself in his office until dinner, where he would make a quick appearance and press the same kiss on your cheek as he had the night before. He’d return to his office until bedtime, where you would sit up, watch a single late night show, and be tucked in by eleven.

It was while you were setting up the table for you and Stephen when your phone buzzed on your back pocket, the confusion on your face when seeing the unknown number being replaced with a smile after seeing the message.

From: Unknown number

To: [Y/N]

Hello! Hope your sister is feeling better (she does have a very very important essay due at the end of the week!) and that you weren’t kidding about getting coffee again?

Your thumbs hovered over the phone before starting to type a reply.

From: [Y/N]

To: Lin Miranda

Yes and yes. Ava is already annoying me with texts again so she’s probably fine. And nope, not kidding! Coffee sounds great.

That didn’t sound flirtatious, right? Stephen shifted in the other room. No, definitely not flirtatious. Still, you hesitated before hitting ‘send’.

From: Lin Miranda

To: [Y/N]

I’m sure your schedule is a little crazier than mine. School and work and all that? Pick a date and time and I’ll be there.

tags:  @smileystumph - @justanotherhamiltrash - @always-blame-jefferson - @itsjaynebird - @angerybisexual - @l-nmanuel - @voldecrux - @phangirldil2022 - @jzzyjones

[brothersgrim]

wildpawed‌:

So much more easier said than done, but at the same time she knew nature and what to do when faced with it. Then again, normal nature. This place had the potential to hold all other hellish and natural thing. If she wasn’t stressing she would have mentally drawn up a map about how these invasive species could throw out the natural order. Not the time to think about it but a great distraction nonetheless.

“I’m breathing and not screaming. And I-“ She almost did scream once she felt a tongue against her jeans leg, followed by nuzzling against her side. It was Isaiah ( he could smell her a mile away ) and she quickly figured if he was close, he could keep Ava and the more dangerous wolves away. “I know you’re never going to let me live this down.“ Words were directed at both of them, but she made it clear it was directed more at her cousin by rubbing her hand through his thick fur and she swore she heard him laugh.

Having him there also helped calmed her down enough to actually make a proper progress, though she wasn’t letting go of either of them soon and didn’t until she saw the light of the porch, a sign of safety. Once stairs were reached, Isaiah departed ( but not before headbutting against Adam’s legs ) and Tarynn was quick to cross arms and sheepishly look over at Adam. “Think you can do me the biggest favour of your entire life and not tell my mum and dad about this? He’ll lose it.”

He glanced down at the sound of approaching pawsteps. He’d recognize that fur anywhere. It was the same colour of his nephew’s - and his little brother’s - hair. If he were someone else, he might have laughed at her. But he isn’t someone else, so he doesn’t. He just arches a brow and reaches down to scruff his nephew’s ears. That made his job easier, but, looked like he wasn’t going to get that time off. Oh well. Maybe next time. (He could only hope.) 

“There you are, pup.” He rumbled softly. (Big and strong as his nephew might get, he was still a child. And the reaper? Well, he was still Uncle Damn.) “You been minding yourself out here?” He knew the answer even without Say needing to communicate it. It was almost certainly ‘no’. But, as long as the boy was safe and happy - and there was no property damage - neither the reaper nor Kane would complain. It was a part of being a wolf, after all. The walk to the porch is easier, now, though he’s lost feeling in his arm from her clinging. City folk. 

The headbutt from his nephew nearly earns a smile. The closest equivalent most people see. It’s definitely a softening of features. He watches his nephew lope off into the night before turning to her again. 

“I don’t think I gotta tell you twice.” He says, one brow raised. “But you can’t go wandering around out here on your own - ‘specially after dark.” He scrubs a hand down his face in exasperation, folding his arms once. 

“You promise me I won’t have to find you out here again - alive or otherwise - and I won’t tell your folks. Deal?” 

[nightshadeandpens]

This Realm

The Silent One is an impending tragedy, I am sure of it, I am almost certainly doomed to fail in my goal of protecting him. And yet I still try, as I do not wish to see him suffer. It has nothing to do with this, the worthless realm of useless foolish mortal beasts that my charge is fated to raze to nought but ashes… In fact, were it not for how his dark, deadly curse should shatter his fragile soul as though it were but a piece of thin sliced perfect crystals, I would almost encourage him to wipe away this wasted land of simpletons who cannot even fathom that I should be of another, more powerful landscape. Travesty of travesties my brother can recall not a flicker of what we once were a part of. As I read a tale of a vampire and how his powers are expertly put to use to torment some of the unfortunately fortunate creatures of this realm I ponder why I should find it so terrible that The Silent One remembers nothing. After all it does make my role simpler. I suppose what I truly desire is much the same as the creatures I have read about. Someone the same as myself, who understands and remembers when I tell them about the great kingdoms of the pure, opalescent, blessed Neverrealm, the deep dark catacombs of the burning Underworld, the way the spaces between held bloody battles, as I, the Guardian of Words, Holder of The All-Seeing Amulet, observed, knowing nearly every turn their fight would go, from the great long-swords, the enormous battle axes, the way some slipped poison into their opponent’s refreshments.    It was my All Seeing Amulet who showed me this role that I must play. Guardian to The Silent One. Well, the truth of this is that I chose to fight the fate it showed me, the end of all as his uncontrollable magic spiralled into desperate screeching, hailing the destruction of everything. So instead, on that birthday where the Amulet was returned to me by the one I call ‘Father’ I vowed to stick to the reason I came with The Silent One to this realm, against my true wishes, for I so dearly cherish my brother… I cannot allow him to know what he is capable of. Even without his memories - I believe he knows this is not where we belong. Some members of the inner sector known as school are perhaps, not deserving of their demise I suppose. They have begun keeping us here, I know not the purpose, in what are called “Dorms” this was unfortunate. In this arrangement it is nearly impossible to keep tabs on The Silent One unless my All Seeing Amulet chooses to reveal his state to me. But, thankfully the mortals I was assigned as cellmates with are acceptably kind-hearted. Even though they, like the others, cannot even begin to comprehend even the basics of the realms, nor my destiny. The short fleeting lives they lead are filled with looking for distractions it would seem. Unlike my Brother’s tactile entertainment and my reading and writing, quiet activities befitting our titles - theirs is a world of noise, sometimes pointless as though screaming without cause is somehow fun. When I tried to curse The Dark One for such things he simply laughed at my noble action and for a while repeated his screaming followed by cruel cackling. I have become immune to this and daily attempt to summon some creature or devil or even one of my realm’s warriors to strike him down; so far no such luck. However occasionally the pastimes of my cell mates could be… Interesting? Almost fun. For example, the time they played Who’s Who. The game itself was simple enough, imitate one of the others at school, someone else, previously exiled to the balcony, must guess who is being imitated. I, however, could not be contented with the balcony, it was too close and presented little in terms of views. So, to demonstrate my superior powers I climbed up to the roof, able to observe almost all the nearby aspects of these “dorms” it was exciting, I considered climbing further, going to another roof maybe, look for the Silent One. But remembered the game had not ended. The one the mortals call “Freya” freaked out, rather uncharacteristically when she found me up here gazing at my Amulet for further knowledge, that I might write it in the form of poetry. Sarah pretended to be the Darkened Bringer of Life, or “Ava” as they know her. When my turn came, Iona, who I sensed may be important to the vision I had been about to experience up above, was chosen to guess. Somehow she was the only one who could not see my impression of The Dark One, after being told she argued he was not so cruel as I showed him to be. My suspicions confirmed once the game ended I sat with my pen and paper to write my new knowledge in a form the mortals saw as nothing but pretty, lyrical words.

A Forbidden’s heart is dyed in Darkness Yet not one can see a thing His love is doomed as is the way When that fallen lost love finds Another’s love is what he sees To the Forbidden’s heart he’s blind. Freya questions who this “Forbidden” is, I believe the other girls think I have written a romance about myself. But I feel no love for anyone from this realm. I am almost certainly promised to wed another in the Underworld. Nor can I tell them the mortal name of the Forbidden, or the one who’s heart is dyed for. Especially with the Forbidden’s sister so close. Iona. No I begin to see her role more clearly. The one who will likely win the heart of The Dark One and find herself tainted by it. The Lost Sheep, does not see her role in the events I have recorded for the future, she tells me it’s “Cute” I suppose I should not warn her of the future. After all, no one ever believes me. I look out the window to the forest, much closer than it is from my regular abode. The foreboding sense of building, as if the forest itself were agonisingly reaching for someone to make it’s new host. I nod at the fools praise, and send myself to sleep.

[writingwhimsey]

The Tiger and The Oda Princess Ch. 8

Chapter 8

It wasn't long after Shingen returned that Kenshin and Sasuke had arrived, having heard of Ava's capture. "We wanted to help." Sasuke said, when he and Kenshin had entered the council room.

"Thank you." Shingen replied. He knew that Sasuke cared a great deal for Ava.

"What do we know?" Kenshin asked.

"She was taken by a group of pirates who have been posing as merchants." Shingen answered. "It was three days ago now."

"They've taken her into Oda territory." Yoshimoto added.

"You don't think...maybe Nobunaga..." Sasuke spoke up.

Shingen shook his head. "No. If the devil were going to try and get her back, he would come himself."

"Get her back?" Yoshimoto asked, not knowing of Ava's connection to the Oda forces.

"A story for another time." Shingen replied. "Right now we have to focus on getting her back."

Just then another of Shingen's spies came to report. "They've finally arrived in a small village. It's part of Oda territory. It's only an hours ride outside of Azuchi. They have taken up in an inn in the village."

"I see." Shingen said, a plan beginning to take place in his mind.

"We also found this." The spy said, handing a letter to Shingen. It was from Ava's captors.

Shingen looked at the letter. "He's...challenging me to come with my full forces."

"We can't do that...especially that close to Azuchi." Yukimura said. "The Oda would easily see that as an act of war even if they have nothing to do with this."

Shingen nodded. "It appears whoever this pirate is, he wants to start a war between the Takeda and the Oda again."

"I would gladly accept that challenge." Kenshin said. "I'll fight the Oda for you while you rescue Ava."

Shingen shook his head. "It wouldn't be the good fight you're looking for." He said. "Besides...I have another idea."

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this idea?" Yukimura asked.

"Because I think you already know what it is." Shingen replied.

Shingen then discussed his plan and gave Yukimura his orders. He then gave orders to his spy network and his plan was set into motion. Everyone began to prepare, getting their things together to leave at first light.

Shingen stood in his and Ava's room, staring up at the moon. He had ordered everyone to get rest for the night, but he knew that there would be none for him. He turned his gaze from the moon to the empty futon.

"I'm sorry I failed you, my love." He said. "I will rescue you, I promise you that."

The morning came and Shingen and a small group o his forces took off. Kenshin and Sasuke joined them, ready to aid in Ava's rescue. Asuna came as well. Once they had Ava safely back, she would likely need professional medical care and she would be sure that she had it.

While riding, Asuna noticed that Yukimura wasn't there. "Where exactly did you send Yukimura, my lord?" She asked Shingen.

"To get help." Shingen answered. "He left last night to be sure he was ahead of us." While Shingen had worked out most of the details of his plan and explained them to his men, this one aspect he had not. He had left this part only to Yukimura.

After two days of hard riding, the Takeda arrived just outside of the small village. They did not go inside nor did they get close enough that they could be detected. Shingen's plan was delicate and it required a certain degree of agility and stealth. Though he hated the idea of waiting, especially not knowing exactly how Ava was being treated, he knew that it was safer if he did not give the bastard the chance to hold her in front of him with a knife at her throat.

Ava...

I had lost track of how long I had been in Motonari's hands. I knew it was days, but how many I couldn't say. Once arriving in the small village, we stayed there, as if he were waiting for something. I was kept locked in a room alone. Motonari or his men stayed guarding my door at all hours. There were even guards outside. Not to mention that my room was on the second floor, so it's not like I could have climbed out the window even if I had wanted to...not like I could easily squeeze through the window either.

Every day Motonari would bring me my meals. I didn't trust him, but yet I had to eat. "You still think I'm gonna poison ya?" He asked, his tone almost teasing. "A dead hostage is a useless hostage, you know. I need ya alive."

"What exactly is your plan, Motonari?" I asked. "What do you get by holding me hostage? What is it you want Shingen to do?"

"Shingen is known as a brilliant strategist. Not to mention he had almost defeated Nobunaga before and then he defeated him again, this time taking back his land." Motonari began to explain. "He's the only one strong enough to bring about the party I'm wanting."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

Motonari smiled the smile of a mad man. "We're in Oda territory love. And I've made sure your husband has been able to glimpse my numbers. He'll need a force equal to mine...his full force and they'll march in here and the Oda will see that as an act of war. We aren't far from Azuchi. It'll be a bloodbath."

I felt my blood turn to ice in my veins. "No." It was my worst nightmare come true.

"The peace they're all trying to work for. The mask that they wear will be ripped off and everyone will be able to see this world for what it truly is." Motonari went on. "Then only the strongest will survive and the world will be as it truly is."

"You're a monster."

"You're not wrong about that, m'lady, but so is everyone else. I'm just honest about it." He then laughed again before exiting the room, locking the door behind him.

I sat on the futon shivering from the cold I had felt at his words. He was one of those watch the world burn types it would seem. I couldn't believe that he would be using me to start a war and between people that I cared deeply about.

I could see everything and everyone I cared about burning in this world that Motonari wanted. I have to find a way out of here. I thought. I have to. I can't let him use me to hurt the people I care about.

I sat there for what felt like hours, trying to work up some kind of escape plan, but utterly failing. It was then that I heard a ruckus coming from the floor below me. It didn't sound like fighting, but more like a party. I then heard the laughter of multiple women.

This noise went on for a while and I even heard some of them coming up the stairs and going into the rooms next to me. "Don't get too distracted or drink too much, fellas!" Motonari shouted at his men, his voice was just outside my door. Then he was coming inside.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Just my crew taking a little leisure time while we wait for the show to start." Motonari answered. "Which should be just about any day now. I'm sure the Takeda have already started marching this way and the Oda probably know."

"You're the worst, slimiest, sorriest, excuse for a human being I've ever met."

"Thank ya, m'lady."

"Why aren't you with one of those ladies?" I asked.

"Someone has to guard ya." Motonari answered, smiling. "Besides, I like hearing those compliments ya give me. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

I picked up the pillow from the bed and threw it at him. "You're disgusting."

"There, those compliments." He said, smiling. "I thought you'd be one of those bleeding heart types that cares about everyone, but seems you can sure hate me."

"Just leave me alone."

Just then there was a knock on the door. "Shojumaru." A woman's voice called from the other side in a sweet seductive tone. It was then opening and she was walking inside.

I wasn't sure why, but she looked so familiar to me. "What do you want?" Motonari asked.

"I heard the captain didn't have any company. I thought you might like some." She replied, laying it on very thick. She was then walking over and reaching out to Motonari.

He smacked her hand away. "Don't touch me." He said, his voice almost desperate and something like fear showing in his eyes. "You can keep the lady company." He said, walking out the door.

Once he was gone the woman turned to me and smiled. She came over and knelt down next to me. "How are you Lady Ava?" She asked. "Have they hurt you?"

"How do you..."

"I'm Miyuko. Lord Shingen sent me." She answered. "A few of the others girls are part of the Mitsumono as well."

My eyes widened in surprise. Though knowing Shingen, it made perfect sense that a good portion of his spy network would be ladies of the night.

"Don't worry about a thing my lady. Lord Shingen will be here soon. He has a plan." She explained. "Though that Shojumaru fellow being immune to my charms was not part of it...nor the fact that he and his men aren't drinking much of the sake."

"His name isn't really Shojumaru." I said.

"Who is he then?"

"He said his name was Motonari Mori."

"But he's supposed to be dead."

"To be fair, Shingen and Kenshin both let everyone think they were dead for a while, too." I reminded her.

Miyuko gave me a smile. "True, there are definite strategic benefits to playing dead." She agreed.

"He said his plan was to use me to force Shingen to march into Oda territory and start a war between the Takeda and the Oda. And he doesn't even have a reason for it. He just wants the chaos." I said. "I can't let that happen."

"I know." Miyuko assured me. "And Lord Shingen has already taken precautions for that."

I was about to ask what she meant when we heard footsteps heading up the stairs and towards this room. She quickly pulled out a dagger and placed it in my hands. "Keep this and use it when the moment is right." She whispered to me.

Though I wasn't sure I could stab anyone, I quickly hid the dagger within the folds of my kimono and nodded.

Just as the door to the room came open, Miyuko started giggling, putting on her act very quickly. "And that my dear is the true secret of how to please a man." We both looked up at Motonari came into the room. "Ah, have you changed your mind, Captain?"

"Yeah, I want you and your girls to leave." Motonari answered. "My crew don't deserve this nice of a reward for too long." He was then handing her a sack of coins. "For your trouble."

"Well, thank you Captain." She replied. "Though it is a shame I didn't get to enjoy your company."

"Just get going." Motonari ordered.

"Alright." She agreed before leaving.

Once she was gone Motonari smiled at me. "Getting tips from a courtesan huh? You plan on trying to use your feminine whiles on me, m'lady?"

I glared at him. "In your dreams."

Motonari laughed. "You sure are a feisty one. I think I'm startin' ta see why the Tiger of Kai fell so hard for you."

"If you're just going to poke fun at me, just leave me alone."

"But you're too much fun."

I just glared at him. Shingen is coming. Just hang on a bit longer. I thought to myself.

"Oh if only looks could kill. Then you'd be in luck m'lady. Be able to get out of here on your own." He told me mockingly before leaving the room once again.

I let out a sigh and sent up a silent prayer. Please let Shingen get here soon and unharmed. And without a war starting.

Shingen...

Shingen stood with his men on a cliff overlooking the village Ava was being held captive in. It was then that the sound of hoof beats approached them from behind. Shingen turned to see one of his most hated enemies riding up.

Nobunaga arrived with his closest men and a small force. Of course Yukimura was with them as well, as Shingen had sent him to Azuchi to get their aid. "You sent word for help." Nobunaga said as he dismounted his horse and walked up to Shingen.

"The only choice I have given that she was brought here." Shingen answered.

Hideyoshi still sat on his horse glaring at Shingen. "I can't believe you allowed her to be captured." He spat at Shingen.

"Big talk coming from the group who had her stolen from them in the first place." Shingen responded.

"You know this plan of yours isn't going to work if you guys start fighting right here." Yukimura interjected.

"What is this plan exactly?" Nobunaga asked, eyeing Shingen.

"That depends on the report I am about to get." Shingen answered.

As if on cue, a woman appeared from a foot path in the forest. She was dressed in bright colors and heavy makeup. She was quite clearly a concubine. She bowed before Shingen. "Lord Shingen, I am sorry to say we filed to get Lady Ava out." She told him, a truly sad look on her face. "There was no way to safely do so."

"Give me your report." Shingen said, gritting his teeth.

"She is being held captive by the man claiming to be named Shojumaru, as you suspected." She answered. "They are keeping her in an inn in the middle of the village. The girls and I tried all of our tricks, but well...I couldn't distract Shojumaru. He wouldn't fall for any of the usual tricks. No one drank much sake either. And even if we had been able to get them drunk enough, we couldn't have gotten Lady Ava out of the inn. He has his crew hidden all over the town, though they are not so inconspicuous."

"Damn him." Shingen breathed.

"I was able to see Lady Ava though. Other than some rope burns on her wrists, she appears unharmed." The woman explained. "She also said that Shojumaru told her that he wants to start a war between the Takeda and the Oda, just for the chaos it would bring...he also told her his name was actually Motonari Mori."

"But he's supposed to be dead." Shingen said.

"Yes, well it appears dead men are rising from the grave all over." Nobunaga said, looking at Shingen pointedly.

Shingen glared at Nobunaga briefly and then turned back to his spy. "Thank you for your work Miyuko."

She bowed again. "I wish I could have done more." She then left.

"So, that's how your master spy network works." Mitsuhide said. "It does make sense coming from you, though."

"Women are able to slip in and out under much less suspicion." Shingen replied. "Now to focus on the matter at hand."

"How we are going to get Ava out of there." Nobunaga finished for him.

The men sat down and discussed strategy. The village being part of Nobunaga's domain, he had a man who was from the village and knew they layout well. They soon had the plan figured out and began laying the ground work for it.

As they waited Yoshimoto couldn't help his curiosity. He walked over to Shingen and asked for a moment alone. "Why exactly are the Ida helping us rescue your wife?" He asked. "And how did you even know that they might?"

Shingen sighed. "Before she became my wife, she was with the Oda forces. She had saved Nobunaga's life that night at Hono-ji and for it, he declared her a princess of the Oda clan and gave her shelter in Azuchi."

"Then how did she come to you?"

"As I said before, a story for another time." Shingen replied. "We have a lot of work to do to get ready for tonight."

Ava...

I sat in the room of the inn, a lantern and the light of the full moon shining in from the window all that kept darkness from engulfing the room. I looked up at the sky, keeping the words Miyuko had told me close to my heart. Shingen was on his way and he would be here soon.

Though spring was well on its way, I couldn't help but to feel a coldness that wouldn't go away. It had stayed with me since I had woken up a captive. I missed Shingen and his warmth. It was in that darkness that I felt the movements of the baby growing within my belly.

I placed my hand over my belly where I felt the baby kicking. Though he or she still wasn't quite big enough for those movements to be felt through my hand just yet. I still felt that connection to my child. "Don't worry little one. We'll be out of here soon." I whispered. "I just hope that whatever your papa's plan is it works."

It was then that I heard shouts from the floor below. Then there was the sound of steel clashing against steel. I jumped up as this sound continued. Then hurried footsteps came up the stairs and down the hall. Motonari was soon bursting into the room.

"Dammit, this was not what I expected." He said, his eyes wild.

"What's going on?" I asked.

He then looked at me. A feral smile played across his lips. He was coming over to me and of course I had nowhere to go but to back myself into a corner. He quickly grabbed me by my hair and then yanked.

"Ah!" I shouted as the pain from having my hair pulled hit me.

He was dragging me in front of him then. It was then that the door was being broken down and a sight I had not expected to see greeted me. Shingen rushed in, his sword drawn. Yukimura and Kenshin were with him. But what truly surprised me was when Nobunaga and Hideyoshi came in through the door as well.

"You've been beaten Motonari, let her go." Shingen practically growled at Motonari.

"You must be somethin' truly special m'lady." Motonari said, not even addressing Shingen and the others. "I didn't think the Oda and the Takeda would work together."

"You must not know the true value of the woman you have taken hostage then." Nobunaga spoke up. "You see before she was Shingen's Ava is a princess of the Oda."

"Ah, I see. I guess I should have done more research." Motonari said.

"Let Ava go now and we might let you live." Shingen said.

"You've clearly been defeated and are outnumbered." Kenshin added. "You disgust me, trying to bring about chaos in place of a nice clean war."

"Let her go or face the consequences." Nobunaga declared, his voice deep and cold as ice.

"What consequences?" Motonari asked. "You could clearly all rush me and run me through, but by the time that happens, I'd have the little lady in the path of your swords and you'd be killing the very thing ya came together to protect."

"You're a coward, hiding behind an innocent woman." Hideyoshi spat at him.

"If you gentlemen want the little lady back unharmed, you're gonna have to face each other. Whoever wins, I'll let have her." Motonari spoke of me as if I were some prize.

I felt tears stinging my eyes at the hopelessness of the situation. Shingen had reached out to Nobunaga for help in rescuing me to keep a war from breaking out. Nobunaga and my friends had all come to help. They were all working together for my sake.

"Ava..."

I looked up at the sound of Shingen saying my name. My gaze found his. I saw the pain in his eyes. It was in that pain I saw in his eyes, I found my determination. The dagger Miyuko had given me earlier felt heavy against me in my kimono. My hands were free, so I reached in my kimono and pulled it out. I unsheathed the weapon and swiftly lifted it up and back, cutting my hair.

I instantly started to tumble forward as Motonari had been holding me up by my hair. I heard some gasps as I pitched forward. Familiar strong arms wrapped around me, catching me before I could fall. "I got you." Shingen's voice was at my ear, as he caught me and righted me, keeping an arm around my waist and pulling me to his side, shielding me.

"Looks like you lost your shield." Shingen declared.

The others then began to rush Motonari, but he didn't hesitate. He headed for the window. "Thanks for the party fellas, but I won't go down that easy." He was then jumping from the window.

Shingen and Nobunaga both ordered men to pursue Motonari and any of his crew who might have gotten away. Asuna, Yoshimoto, Sasuke, and the remaining Azuchi warlords were soon coming into the room. I couldn't hide my surprise at seeing them all together.

"Ava, are you alright?" Shingen asked, looking at me, lifting his hand that wasn't holding me up to cup my cheek.

"Yeah." I answered with a nod. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here." He told me.

"You got here just in time." I replied.

"Thank goodness you're safe." Hideyoshi said.

It was then that the stress and tension I had been carrying these last few days began to leave my body. I hadn't been able to sleep much and suddenly felt very exhausted. Black began to form at the edge of my vision.

The last thing I heard before passing out was Shingen and the others all calling my name.

Immediately after Ava passed out, Shingen caught her in his arms. "Lay her down on the futon." Asuna instructed. Shingen followed the midwife's instructions and then moved out of her way.

"Let me help." Ieyasu said.

"Fine." Asuna agreed. "But I need the rest of you to leave the room. It's too crowded in here."

Shingen and the others reluctantly left while Asuna and Ieyasu instantly got to work examining Ava. Shingen and the others waited in the hall for what felt like hours before Asuna and Ieyasu came out of the room.

"She's alright. It's mostly exhaustion and a little bit of shock." Asuna said.

"We've given her some medicine, but she needs rest." Ieyasu added.

"And more medicine that isn't here in this village." Asuna added.

"We have plenty back in Azuchi." Ieyasu said.

Shingen and Nobunaga looked at each other. Nobunaga spoke up first. "Then we bring her back to Azuchi...you are welcome to come as well and stay as long as Ava needs."

"That would be the best course of action for Lady Ava and the baby's health." Asuna said, seeing the doubt in Shingen's face. "Even after she wakes up, she will need to rest for several days. Traveling back to Kai too soon...it would be bad for her and the baby."

Shingen nodded. "Alright."

Ava...

I woke up sometime in the middle of the day. The sunlight streamed in, illuminating the familiar room. It was not my room in Kai which I shared with Shingen, but my room in Azuchi castle.

"There's those beautiful eyes."

I turned my head at the sound of Shingen's voice. He sat on the floor beside my futon. I started to push myself up, but he gently placed his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back down in bed.

"You still need to rest my love." He told me, gently stroking my cheek with a finger.

"What exactly happened after I passed out? How long have I been out? And how did we end up in Azuchi?" I asked.

"Asuna and Ieyasu examined you. Declared you were exhausted and in slight shock and said that the medicine you needed was here along with plenty of rest. Nobunaga agreed to allow us to stay until you were well enough for travel back home." Shingen answered.

"So...not only did you get Nobunaga and the others to help you in my rescue, but now they're letting us stay here?" I asked.

Shingen gave me a smile. "I don't think you realize the power you hold over people."

Before I could say anything the door to my room was opening and Asuna and Ieyasu were walking in. "You're awake, that's wonderful." Asuna said.

"Yes, it would have been a pain if you were still out." Ieyasu agreed. "It's easier to give you your medicine when you're awake."

"How are you feeling, Ava?" Asuna asked me, coming to sit on the other side of me.

"Okay." I answered.

"Any cramping?" She asked. "No signs of...bleeding?"

I shook my head. "No, in fact the baby is kicking right now."

"Okay, good." She said with a sigh of relief.

Ieyasu gave me some medicine before heading out, saying he would go tell everyone I was awake. Just as I was about to ask Shingen and Asuna something, I heard two familiar voices in the hall. Two voices that I would not have imagined together at least not without the fighting.

"How is it you make something as delicious as these dumplings?"

"I've been perfecting my cooking all my life. Food is what keeps us alive. And quit trying to take more dumplings. These aren't for you."

The voices stopped at my door before sliding it open. "Heard you were finally awake, lass. Thought you might be hungry." Masamune greeted as he walked in the room, carrying a tray. "Had to defend the food from this guy though." He added the last part gesturing to Yukimura who had been walking with him.

"Good food should be appreciated." Yukimura replied. "Besides dumplings are my favorite."

I wanted to say something, but I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that Masamune and Yukimura were talking to each other and getting along almost as if they were old friends instead of enemies.

"What's that look on your face for, lass?" Masamune asked, as he sat the tray of food down beside my futon. "You didn't think I'd let you starve while you were here, did you?"

"You still in shock or something?" Yukimura asked. He then looked at Asuna. "I thought you were good at this kind of thing. Can't you find a way to snap her out of this?"

"I'm in shock alright." I replied. I then looked over at Shingen. "This is real right? I'm not having some kind of fever dream or something? Did I hit my head at some point?"

Shingen smiled at me. "I assure you everything is real and you are awake, my princess."

"I can always pinch you, if you want Ava." Yukimura teased.

I glared at him. "No, I'm good."

"Alright, you need to eat lass." Masamune said.

It was then that the aroma of the food that he had brought wafted over to me. My mouth began to water and my stomach let out a hungry growl.

Masamune laughed. "Sounds like the tiger cub in your belly is hungry. You better eat up."

Shingen was then helping me to sit up. Masamune placed the tray in my lap and handed me chop sticks. I took them and dug into the meal. The flavor burst across my tongue, sweet and savory. "Mmm, delicious as always Masamune. Thank you." I said smiling at him.

"Good, I made all your favorites. Don't worry while you're staying here, I'll keep you fed."

I noticed that Masamune and Yukimura had left the door to my room opened and that was when I saw Hideyoshi and Mitsunari appear in the door way. Hideyoshi was carrying a tray of tea.

"Good to see you awake, Ava." Hideyoshi greeted.

"Yes, we were so glad to hear the news, Lady Ava. I see Lord Masamune has already brought you food."

"We thought you might like some tea. It's a special herbal blend to help with regaining energy and strength."

"Thank you." I said, smiling at them.

"Wait a second, what herbs are in that tea?" Asuna asked.

"Why would you ask?" Hideyoshi countered.

"She is pregnant there are some herbs that are dangerous for her to have you dunce." Asuna replied.

"I thought she only talked to Yukimura that way." I said to Shingen.

"Like you, she doesn't hide her feelings when she's passionate about something." Shingen replied with a smile.

Hideyoshi then listed off the herbs that were in his tea. Asuna listened and gave the okay when he had finished. "Alright, those are all safe."

I had finished eating and was then taking the tea, when Mitsuhide appeared in my doorway with Sasuke of all people. "You are quite a fascinating ninja." Mitsuhide told him.

I was further surprised when Nobunaga and Kenshin were following behind them. "Of course he is. I trained him personally." Kenshin spoke, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Yes, but to become such a master in only four years, that is quite a feat." Nobunaga said. "Sasuke, if you ever find yourself wanting to serve a new lord, come see me. I could use a man of your talents."

"So now it's a party?" I asked, taking note at how pretty much everyone was in my room.

"That would explain why that sourpuss Ieyasu left before the rest of us got here." Masamune said. "Though someone did have to bring us all the news."

"It is good to see you are awake, Ava." Nobunaga greeted me.

I looked around at everyone. Most of these men were enemies and yet they were all here and tolerating each other, some of them seeming to get along quite well in fact, all for me. I felt the emotions in my chest as the tears began to gather in my eyes.

"Ava, what's wrong?" Shingen asked, his voice soft, a gentle hand coming to my cheek to wipe away a tear that had escaped.

"Nothing's wrong...I'm just so happy." I answered. "You guys all put aside you differences and worked together...all for me."

Shingen put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you." He whispered to me.

"You're still part of the Oda forces." Nobunaga said.

I couldn't help it, I started crying harder then. This was such a touching moment and I just couldn't help it.

Shingen reached into his kimono and pulled out the handkerchief I had made for him and used it to dry my tears.

"Come on lass, no need to cry." Masamune said gently from beside me.

"I...can't...help...it...it's...the...preg...nancy." I replied, blaming my complete lack of control on the hormones raging inside my body.

"Says the most emotionally expressive woman I've ever met." Mitsuhide teased.

"Just hush...you." I replied, starting to calm down.

"You think she's crying now, just wait till she realizes the mess that is her hair." Yukimura said.

That was when I remembered that I had cut my hair with the knife Miyuko had given me. I reached my hand up to touch my hair. My formerly waist-length hair was now well above my shoulders. "How bad is it?" I asked, afraid to know.

Shingen reached a hand up to stroke my hair. "Not bad at all."

"That was quite a bold move you made, cutting your hair like that." Nobunaga praised me.

"I'm disappointed I didn't get to witness that move." Sasuke said. "I thought that only happened in the movies."

"Movies? What in the world is that?" Mitsuhide asked, catching onto Sasuke's modern term.

"In the our hometown, it's a type of play." I answered, figuring that was the best way to explain things.

"I see." Mitsuhide said.

"So women cutting their hair to escape a captor is something that happens in these...movies?" Nobunaga asked.

"Yes and it usually signifies a great change for the female character." Sasuke explained. "Usually a personal growth kind of moment."

"I see." Nobunaga replied, eyeing me.

I wasn't sure what it was, but there was something almost warm in his eyes as he looked at me.

It was then that Shingen was moving closer to me and wrapping both arms around me. "It was a brave move that allowed us to get you out safely."

Something flashed in Nobunaga's eyes then. Then a grin came to his face. "Yes and I am glad we were able to help. And of course you are welcome to stay here as long as you need...or you never have to leave Ava. Clearly you would be safer here."

Before I could respond Shingen was speaking. "Are you implying I cannot keep my wife and child safe?" He asked.

"I am not implying it." Nobunaga replied. "I am only stating the truth. Motonari tricked you to lure you away and then stole her away."

"Says the man who was here in Azuchi when she was stolen away in the first place." Shingen countered.

"A mistake I wouldn't make again." Nobunaga replied.

Shingen had released me by this point and was standing. Nobunaga stood as well, both taking fighting postures. "Perhaps I should prove you wrong."

"That's enough out of the both of you!" I shouted.

Shingen and Nobunaga both actually looked abashed. At this moment, they reminded me of two children who had just been caught by their teacher before a fight could start.

"We were having a nice moment and time here and then you just had to start a fight!" I said, feeling hot tears of anger stinging my eyes. "Nobunaga, you just had to start in on Shingen and that's not right."

Shingen looked at Nobunaga at my chiding with a smug grin.

"Shingen, wipe that smug grin off your face. Just because Nobunaga started in on you doesn't mean you had to take the bait." I continued.

This caused Shingen's face to fall and Nobunaga to get a slight grin. The other warlords sat there silently watching, all with stunned looks on their faces.

"Alright, I think you all should get out now. You're causing my patient undue stress." Asuna said. "Ava needs to be resting and you're all no longer helping with that."

The guys all began to file out, Shingen the only one lingering. "I meant you too, Lord Shingen." Asuna said.

Shingen looked surprised. "You can't..."

"I mean it now get out." Asuna said, putting her hands on Shingen's back and shoving him out the door. She then closed it behind him. She looked at me with a fond smile. "You are truly one brave woman, my lady."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"You just yelled at the Tiger of Kai and the Devil King, scolding them as if they were small children." She answered. "That takes guts."

I sighed. "I don't know about that..."

"Let me touch up your hair for you." She said heading over to a table in my room and picking up some scissors.

"It's really bad isn't it?" I asked, glad for the subject change.

"Just a bit uneven is all." She answered. She grabbed a couple of towels that were in my room, laying one behind me and then draping the other around my shoulders.

"So, you've cut hair before?" I asked.

"I used to help cut my mother's." She answered. "And I keep my own trimmed. So, don't worry you're in good hands."

"I know." I replied. "Thank you."

Asuna could tell I wasn't just talking about the haircut. "You're welcome. That's what I'm here for."

The warlords...

After being shooed out into the hallway, the warlords all looked at each other, feeling stunned. "I can't believe you two." Kenshin said, looking at Shingen and Nobunaga. "Letting a woman scold you like children. The Tiger of Kai and the Devil King, pfft." He was then walking off.

The rest of the men made excuses and walked off, leaving Shingen and Nobunaga alone in the hall. Nobunaga looked at Shingen. "Do you play Go?" He asked.

"I have yes." Shingen replied. "Why?"

"Let us have a game." Nobunaga replied turning to head for the tenshu.

Shingen looked at the door to Ava's room and sighed. He knew she was right, but Asuna was also right that Ava needed her rest. He also knew that Asuna could actually cause him pain and if she used the techniques she knew, could easily incapacitate him. He followed Nobunaga.

They made their way to the tenshu and Nobunaga pulled out a goban. The two men sat across from each other and began their fame. "Why am I not surprised you would make your room in the tenshu?" Shingen asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" Nobunaga replied, placing his black stone on the board.

Shingen thought for a moment before placing his white stone on the board. "You enjoy ruling from high and lording over everyone."

"Think as you wish." Nobunaga replied.

"The real question is why did you bring me here for this game?"

"I promised you sanctuary while Ava recovered...but a battle in Go is close enough to a fight with you." Nobunaga answered. "And in Go no one dies. You can fight a strong opponent over and over again."

Shingen caught a note of emotion in Nobunaga's voice. "I see." He replied, observing his enemy.

"I have also been thinking...we should work together."

"How can you even suggest that?" Shingen asked, having a hard time hiding his disgust and hatred.

"You have Kai back, which you took fairly in battle." Nobunaga began. "We did work well together for Ava's sake."

"It was the only way to get her back and not start a needless war." Shingen replied.

"I know." Nobunaga replied. "But you did also help to free a village in my territory of an invader. It was thanks to your spies we were able to free the villagers and rescue Ava without any innocents falling to harm."

"I don't know how to feel with words of praise from you." Shingen replied.

"If you worked with us, we could keep more battles ending in a similar fashion. It would also bring peace and unification sooner." Nobunaga replied.

"What makes you want this?" Shingen asked.

"I have made mistakes in my quest for unification, with your help I could avoid repeating those mistakes." Nobunaga answered.

Shingen narrowed his gaze at Nobunaga suspiciously. Nobunaga met his gaze and for once Shingen could see the weight of the lives Nobunaga had taken did indeed weigh on him.

The look in Nobunaga's eyes only lasted a moment, then a devilish grin came to his face. "It would also allow me to see Ava more freely."

"I knew you were at the head of the line." Shingen replied.

"What line is that?"

"The line of men who are waiting for me to mess up with Ava so they can swoop in and take her from me."

"Says the man who took her from me in the first place."

"She's too good for you." Shingen replied. "Too good for me, too."

"And yet you still married her."

"Because for whatever reason she chose me."

"I know."

The two men sat in silence for a while then, the only sound was the clacking of the stones on the goban. They continued the game both lost in their own thoughts. Finally the game ended...in a draw.

"Hmm, strange no one has ever come so close to besting me at Go." Nobunaga declared.

"Fitting that the man who bested you in actual battle would be such a challenge for you in Go." Shingen replied.

"Indeed." Nobunaga replied. "Think about my offer while you stay here."

"I will consider it." Shingen answered.

"While you consider it, we should form at least temporary truce." Nobunaga replied.

"You mean to remove the mutual thorn from our sides that is Motonari?" Shingen asked, though the question was rhetorical. "I had already begun to consider that possibility...and that one I can agree to. I can't let that bastard get away after what he did nor can I let him accomplish his goal."

"Agreed." Nobunaga replied.

The sun had already set during their game, the light of the moon and some lanterns were the only thing that kept the room lit. Shingen took note of this. "It is getting late. I had better return to my wife." He said standing up. "I can't let her sleep alone."

Nobunaga smirked. "If she isn't still angry with you, you mean."

"She has forgiven me for worse." Shingen replied with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "Have a good night." He was then leaving.

Nobunaga was now alone with his thoughts. He reached for his cup and a bottle of sake. "There is no need for you to remind me she is yours now." He said, as he filled his cup. "That look in her eyes is enough." He then let out a sigh.

Ava...

After Asuna had finished evening out my hair, she handed me a small hand mirror. I looked at my reflection, seeing my golden brown locks were now to my chin. I reached up with my free hand and touched the short locks.

"Just remember, it will grow back." Asuna assured me. "And you being pregnant will help with that. It will probably grow faster than it would have otherwise."

I nodded.

"Plus, I think it looks pretty cute this way." She added.

"You know, this isn't the first time I've had my hair this short...but it's the first time in several years. I feel kind of...naked without it."

Asuna smiled at me. "I'm sure you'll get used to it."

"Yeah." I agreed with a sigh as I set the mirror aside.

"What's wrong?" She asked as she set about cleaning up the mess. "I know this isn't just about your hair?"

"I just...was I too harsh earlier? With Shingen and Nobunaga I mean?" I asked, unable to stop thinking about their argument earlier.

"No." She answered. "They were acting like big babies and you treated them accordingly. It's good practice for you as I am sure this is only the first child you and Lord Shingen will have together. I'm sure you'll have to break of many fights between them."

I couldn't help but to laugh a little at Asuna's words. "But was I expecting too much? I mean they've been enemies for so long. I can't really expect them to get along just because of me."

"You don't realize it at all do you?" Asuna asked me.

"Realize what?"

"True they've been enemies for a long time, but that argument earlier wasn't about that. It was about you."

"What? Nobunaga was just egging Shingen on."

Asuna shook her head. "Shingen isn't the only man in love with you."

I looked at Asuna. "What? Are you trying to say Nobunaga is in love with me? That's ridiculous! He just thinks of me as a lucky charm."

"Uh-huh. Sure and I'm Buddha."

I felt my cheeks burning out of embarrassment. "Well, then I guess you should come over here and let me rub your belly in that case because you're clearly wrong,"

Asuna just laughed. "Lord Shingen sees it. That's why he responded the way he did. He was jealous."

"Shingen being jealous, I do believe. Mostly because he and I have discussed it before."

Asuna and I talked for a while longer, moving on to other subjects. Masamune returned with dinner after a bit, but Asuna told him he wasn't allowed to stay. I ate the delicious food and noticed that it was starting to get late. Asuna had already lit a lantern.

"Don't worry I am sure Lord Shingen will be back soon." Asuna told me.

"I just wish I could get up and go find him." I replied. I had already started to feel bad for yelling earlier.

Just as I was beginning to get worried, the door to my room slid open and Shingen was stepping inside. Asuna was taking that as her cue to leave. "Well, I will leave you guys alone." She declared, heading for the door as Shingen stepped out of the way. "Oh, and I feel his should go without saying, but knowing you two I have to say it. Especially since you look quite apologetic Lord Shingen and I know you will be making up here soon. No intimacy." She was wagging her finger at us.

"But..." I found myself beginning to speak up.

"No. You need to rest. Everything is fine so far, but too much excitement could cause you to go into early labor and we can't have that." Asuna said.

"We will behave." Shingen replied.

"You better." Asuna said before heading out of the room and sliding the door shut behind her.

Shingen came to sit down in front of me on the futon. He reached a hand up to stroke my hair. "Asuna did a good job evening it out, it seems." He said.

I nodded. "Yeah."

We were both looking at each other a moment and then opened our mouths to speak at the same time. "I'm sorry."

Shingen smiled at me. "I know what I'm sorry for, but why are you apologizing?"

"Because i was thinking maybe I got a little too worked up and I shouldn't have lost it on you and Nobunaga like that." I replied.

He shook his head. "No, you were right. I let my jealousy get the better of me and let him get to me."

"I understand you feeling jealous, but you really have nothing to feel jealous over." I told him. "My heart, my body, my soul, all of me is all yours."

Shingen reached a large hand to cup my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. "You know when you say things like that, it makes it harder to do this no intimacy thing." Shingen replied. "I just want to take you in my arms and make love to you until the sun comes up."

I smiled at him. "Once Asuna gives the all clear, I won't protest that idea."

Shingen chuckled and moved around to sit behind me and then pulled me into his lap. I responded by leaning back into him. I felt Shingen lean his head down and a feather-light kiss was pressed to the nape of my neck. "Hmm, I think I like your hair this short. It makes it easier to get to your neck." He whispered, his breath tickling my sensitive nape, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

"You would find the silver lining." I replied.

"You know, I still think you're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." Shingen assured me, trailing more kisses along my neck.

"Hmm, I know." I replied, enjoying the feeling of his lips. "You should...probably stop that."

"Probably." Shingen agreed, continuing to kiss my neck. "It's just so hard." He placed a few more kisses before sighing and then resting his chin on my shoulder, his cheek against mine.

"I wish she would have given us a time frame." I said with a pout.

"I'm glad to know you miss me as much as I miss you." He replied.

"I can never get enough of you, Shingen."

"And I can never get enough of you, Ava." He replied. He was then placing his hands over my belly. "But you need to rest...and we have to keep you safe little one."

"Have I ever told you how much I love it when you talk to the baby?" I replied.

"Just have to make sure she knows Papa's voice." Shingen said, smiling.

I placed my hands over his. "You know, I'm glad that Nobunaga is letting us stay here and that everything is okay and whatnot, but I can't wait to get home."

"Have I ever told you how much I love it that you think of Kai as home already?"

"You know, in my time they say home is where the heart is...my heart is with you. So for me wherever you are is home."

I felt Shingen's embrace gently tighten around me. "And here I thought I was the master of words." He was then lifting his hand up to place his fingers beneath my chin, drawing me to turn my head and face him, then bringing my lips to his for a tender kiss.

When we broke the kiss, we leaned our foreheads against each other. "I love you, Shingen."

"I love you, Ava." He replied. He was then stroking beneath my eyes with his thumb. "You look like you're getting tired, my goddess."

"Maybe just a little." I replied.

Shingen was then lying us back in the futon, still keeping me wrapped in his arms. "While I can't make love to you all night, I can at least still hold you all night." He said, kissing my forehead.

I nestled into his embrace. "It's my favorite place to be." It was then that I thought of something. "So, what were you up to while Asuna put you and the others in time out?" I asked, my tone playful.

Shingen laughed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He replied.

"Try me." I said.

"Playing a game of Go with the Devil King."

I looked up at Shingen and could tell he was telling the truth, and yet I still just couldn't picture it.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me, but I swear it's true."

"Oh, I believe you, it's just, I think trying to picture it has caused my brain to short-circuit."

Shingen laughed. "It was a very interesting game."

"Why do I feel like you aren't talking about the actual game?"

"We have decided to work together on a temporary truce." Shingen explained. "Motonari did get away and he clearly wants to cause problems...nor can we let him get away with kidnapping you."

"So, you guys are planning to work together until you can stop Motonari for good?" I asked.

"Yes, at least that much."

"What do you mean at least?"

"You really do catch on to every word I say, don't you?" Shingen asked, looking at me with a smile.

"I just try to be a good listener." I replied. "Now what did you mean by that?"

Shingen sighed. "I hate to say this, but he did offer me a more permanent truce. Asking if I would be willing to work with him to help unite the country and finally bring peace."

I felt a surge of hope in my heart at Shingen's words. I did my best to keep my excitement down. "And what did you say to that?" I asked.

Shingen smiled at me. "I hear that hope in your voice, no need to try and hide it." He said. "I didn't say no...I said I would consider it."

I nodded. "Well, it is a lot to think about and I know you have to consult your men and the council you created...and the bad blood to get over."

"I know you're hopeful." Shingen replied. "It does make sense...and it does seem like he's changed and sees the advantages of my information network."

"Well, I won't try and persuade you. I know you know how I feel, but it's a decision that only you and the others can make. I'll just be crossing my fingers." I replied, smiling at him.

"And if the council and I make the decision not to agree to the more permanent alliance, will you be okay?"

I could see the honest concern in Shingen's eyes. "I'll be disappointed, but I'll understand. And I'll still hope that minds can be changed later. I know there's more than just my feelings to consider in this matter."

"How did I ever get such an amazing woman to be my wife?" Shingen asked me, kissing my brow.

"Just lucky, I guess." I replied with a cheeky smile. "And only because you're such an amazing man and I'm pretty lucky that you're my husband."

Shingen drew me closer to kiss me gently on the lips. "Rest well, my love."

We snuggled closer and then I was drifting off to sleep safely in his arms.

Shingen lay there, watching Ava sleep. He brushed her now short locks back from her face. "I'll keep you safe and I will do what I can to make sure the rest of your time here in Azuchi is restful." He whispered to her sleeping form.

Shingen gently tightened his hold on Ava, snuggling her closer. She let out a contented sigh in her sleep and nuzzled his chest. He smiled and kissed the top of her head before joining her in the land of dreams.

See what happens next below :)

https://writingwhimsey.tumblr.com/post/656174952403386368/the-tiger-and-the-oda-princess-ch-9