#and I don't think it's because the show is super predictable I'm just So Locked In to how this show is written

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

[moons-of-dewclan]

I was curious how to get your clan really set off? I recently (LIKE EARLIER TODAY JFJSJFJ) started my own clangen blog but idk if it's worthy of Tumblr😭

How can I improve my art and improve my process? You're one of my BIGGEST inspirations ngl you're literally him (or her or they I'm so sorry I never caught your pronouns) but I was just curious on how to be better? If you wanna look, don't. It's like, rlly bad so.... save your eyes. Have a lovely nighttt <33

HELLOOOOO I'M NOT 100% SURE WHAT YOU MEAN BY SET OFF I'M SORRY :{ if you mean to get people reading it, i think it's vastly just luck also appealing to an audience by accident i posted my art online for 10 years (i started posting in 2010 as a wee ka- told you i'm an adult haahahueu) before anyone showed consistent interest and i valued those two or so commenters who occasionally had something to say about my stuff, so much LAKSNLKD. that entire decade i got between 2 and 30 favourites for every piece i posted- usually between 2 and 10- until around 2021 when a making a comic aANNND joining a wolf ARPG group exposed me to many kindred art-enjoyers that wanted to keep up with my goofy stories then for some reason, i posted Dewclan's first page on tumblr and it got way more engagement than any other piece of art i've ever posted SO LAKSDNLKDAS WE CANNOT PREDICT THESE THINGS.. at least i can't if you're looking for engagement, pLS AIM FOR ENGAGEMENT THAT FEELS MEANINGFUL over anything else IN MY OPINION, and it's just my opinion- part of being 'better' is, first and foremost, being able to enjoy your art alone. and then being excited with what you choose to share! even if you don't care about your quality of art, care about the story. if you don't care about the story, care about the process and just having fun. but you have to have fun in doing it, and do it for your own eyes primarily. like if you were alone in a room and creating only for yourself! because, until you happen to find others who like what you're liking, you are then when someone is interested and you get to share that excitement, even that ooone comment on something you care about is OOGHHH SUCH A NICE FEELIN. enter communities, comment on other artists' work, try to make friends! but make sure to remember, if you create with the hopes others will like it, without liking it yourself, you're going to be really broken down if someone doesn't like it FOR you :{ loving your own art is tough work but it's integral to your longterm relationship with drawing ON IMPROVING.. for me, nothing is more integral to improving than finding a way to practice that suits you (looking at live figures doesn't help me at all. i don't know why. it's insane), and having fun doing it. i can't grasp anatomy unless i break it down with shapes. SHAPES ARE EVERYTHING. study the shapes of what you want to draw. break em down by tracing simple shapes over your subject. see if the leg is the same length as the head from muzzle to neck and lock that info in. STUFF LIKE THAT on the technical side of things, it can be super helpful to dedicate half an hour or so to drawing a day- eventually it becomes a habit and you just default to 'oh i think i wanna draw' when you've got nothing else to do. more drawing, more improvement!

HONESTLY THO another important thing is not putting yourself down. i know it's a hard habit to break (i struggle with it outside of art myself!), but it doesn't do you any favours. the more you rag on yourself, the more it'll manifest as something that actually damages your art, AND your relationship with it. let it be fun- don't sabotage yourself! you can be critical of your work and still kind! little tip here, improving can take a while, but experimenting with styles can make an INSTANT shift in how you perceive your stuff. ALSOOO EXPERIMENT WITH DIFFERENT BRUSHES FOR SKETCHING AND LINING. I PROOMISE. PLS DO IT. IT'S LIKE A MAGIC TRICK. i cannNNNOT sketch with a hard brush. everything looks horrible. marker brush tho?? so smooth. full of character. lovely. binary brush sketches? suddenly i'm Anime. pencil brush?? i digidevolve back into baby ka who loved to crosshatch and do semi realism. airbrush??? i explode into atoms actually

i find for a lot of people, they don't need to improve or be 'better' at art, they need to learn to enjoy what they're capable of doing now, and improvement is a byproduct. from what i've seen through the years, unless you work to curb it the negative view of your art will stick with you no matter what 'skill level' you get to bc the calls' comin from inside the house, yknow what i mean 3: it can be a long process to learn to accept your art, and sometimes you just plain grow out of it over time! but in the meantime it can't hurt to make efforts to fight your d e m o n s

I'M SORRY I WROTE SO MUCH IK YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS ALL IT ISN'T JUST TO YOU, ODESSY-CLAN BLOG RUNNER, IT'S AIMED AT ANYONE WITH ARTSY SELF DOUBTS. i hope i phrased everything kindly bc i meant it all kindly 3: i hate to see an artist doubt their work, but THERE IS NO SHAME IN IT. i want to encourage loving it regardless of any flaws tho, even though it takes time!

[ars-matron]

The Tarot Sequence Reread

Nothing has given me brain rot in a long while like the Tarot Sequence by K D Edwards has. And since I just finished reading all the supplemental stuff right when my hold for The Last Sun came back up I thought I would do something I have only done once before-and in a much less flattering way for a book I hated-and live blog my reread.

There's just so much in this series I need to pay closer attention to. And usually I would go on here and read some metas, but there is literally nothing!! The only things in the tags for this series is people wishing there were more people reading it, a handful of very wonderful fanarts, and an account of the decline of a discord that evidently used to exist for it. So, maybe this will encourage some people to read the books too.

Because there are some heavy topics in this series anytime I talk about such topics I will tag for them, but if they don't come up in the chapters I'm reviewing, I won't. So if you have certain things back listed you might not see all my posts on it. Anyone who is reading along and is curious about it can DM me.

NOW! Predictions and things I want to pay attention to under the cut for spoiler reasons.

The Tower. At the end of the prologue of the first book my thoughts were, " So we trust NO ONE!!" Except Queenie, because why would Rune and Brand live with her if she was evil? Then the children showed up and I had to trust them, they were too young to be part of the, whole thing, plus they are so cute. You have to trust them. And then Addam came along, and of course we trust him, he's an Addam, he's a giant dancing teddy bear and I love him! So I read the whole series (that's out so far) expecting we would find out the Tower was an evil guy, that he had had something to do with the fall of the Sun Throne. Honestly by the end of the third book I didn't think that any longer, and I was starting to before that after finding out he was also Qunn's godfather because!!! There is no way Qunn wouldn't have seen if the Tower revealed he had been a part of all that. (I'm still asking myself HOW exactly he or Mayan wouldn't have noticed an astral projection listening device being installed in Rune's room at their freaking tower that is super locked down! But then it happened for two other locations that were supposed to be super warded and protected my other companions too. So maybe it isn't his fault. I do think he might blame himself, I do think that some of his stand-offishness might also be guilt for not being able to stop the attack on the Sun Throne to start with. We will see...) I'm going to go into this read through with the assumption he is just lonely and sad and not a bad guy.

QUEENIE!!!! Because, WHO THE FUCK IS QUEENIE!? I was already suspicious because every time someone asks Rune and Brand where she came from, or how long she's been with them, they say "She's been with us forever." Every time! It reeks of mind fuckery. Then Eidolon and the epilogue that wasn't came along. Current theory is that she is the Empress, and also that she's probably Rune's mother. I would be willing to bet she was the woman at the end of the third book who spoke up to the river after everyone else. Edwards did a good job of making her disappear in the background, but I'm gonna be hunting for every mention of her and how she acts around everyone.

Ciaran, just because I love him and at first also suspected him of evil deeds. But he's just your gay vodka uncle and he loves all his adopted family so much and I just want to keep a closer on him at the start of the series.

Kellum. We only see him once in the second book, but he's mentioned in Eidolon by the Fool (Or Queenie pretending to be the Fool, again I'm not sure, there's Queenie interference for sure) And he was in one of the supplemental novellas. I think he will be making a bigger appearance in the next book.

Quinn's prophecies. I'll probably make a list of those for a separate master post.

Tallas. The Atlantean soul mates. This is a MAJOR spoiler. Rune says that Brand and he formed a talla bond the night of the attack. That it was what brought Brand out of the geas and got them to safety. The bond was gone when he woke up in the hospital and he's spent this whole time thinking he's somehow broken their talla bond. Something definitely happened between him and Addam in the Westlands, and I don't think Addam was wrong in assuming it was the budding of a talla bond. Because something sort of bond-like is also there now after the Hourglass Throne, after he used his bond with Brand to get him and Addam back to their time. My theory here is that they might be each other tallas, all three of them. Together. We know that it doesn't have to be a sexual relationship, though I don't think Addam would mind that one bit. Everything is pointing to the three of them being tied together somehow, and my theory is mostly that, before they were together together, no one talla bond could form and take precedence over the other. Now that they are together all the time, going on missions, living together, they have more opportunities for a bond to fully form and take hold. Assuming it involves all three of them.

And with that, I'm going to go read!

[gachagon]

"Zombies" VS Egoists

There's a lot I find super interesting about chapter 214 but I think this panel is one of the ones that really catches my attention the most. The reason I'm so fixated on it is because we have come so far since the famous "Luck" panel that Kaneshiro has practically hammered into us that "luck" is not something to be trifled with, it's not something to brush off, and it certainly isn't something you look down on in a game.

Luck in Blue Lock is not just a fluke but rather the culmination of hard work from a player who people underestimate. The only reason it comes off as a "lucky shot" is because often times the opposing side looks down on those they're going up against. And time and time again we see this happening with Isagi. He can never seem to really get the respect he deserves from his opponents until he has devoured them, and I like to think it's simply just because of his appearance (the boys gotta bulk up some day, eat more of his veggies T_T) However, I also think this chapter is going to be a clash of ideals.

This arc we've really been focusing on the money angle of soccer and there's been a lot of emphasis on how much money the boys are worth now that they have sponsors and the Blue Lock TV thing. But this chapter really shows that for some people their ego is entirely tied to their actual net worth, and as long as they have the most money thrown at them, the more they're ego is satiated.

Look at how methodical they break down their game plan. It's not based on their ego's or even their weapons at all, it's all a thought out calculated program for them to follow that has nothing to do with "taking chances" to score, or having the confidence to be bold and steal balls from people. The simple version of Jinpachi Ego's philosophy is very weak here because it relies entirely on the opponent being like you, an egoist.

And I think that's why Isagi was so caught off guard because for once they're not acting like Egoists. They're acting like puppets, like "zombies" who have been programmed to do a certain thing before hand. It's the opposite of egoism, where you let someone else take control for once and let them use your skills to their advantage.

I think the comparison's to Zombies is really good in this chapter simply because Isagi has been using meta-vision to predict people's behavior in a game and use it against them, however "zombies" are brainless. They don't have behaviors that are purely theirs, often times they're being controlled by some virus or infection. So how can you predict someone based on how they act if they're not even thinking in that moment for themselves? If they're purely going off of a script, even if you could see what they were doing, you wouldn't be able to understand why because they're just doing it with no real rhyme or reason that matches what you already know about them.

Though I want to go back to the first panel again because I believe it is the key Isagi needs to win, which is that he has to figure out what is fueling these players to go forth and play now, and he has to use Luck.

Yes it's hard to plan against a team who is practically not thinking for themselves in the moment, but it's easier to trick them up by watching how they've been "programed" for that match. Each Uber's boy got their own personalized little plan that told them how to move, what to do, what formations to take etc based on their attributes and weapons. All Isagi has to do is pay attention to purely how they're moving, and forget about the why for a moment, because there is no "why".

He has to get "Lucky" again and use meta vision to look at their direct movements and not their behavior. And it's clear that Lorenzo doesn't understand Luck at all, he thinks it is just purely flukes that get people lucky in games. Isagi could absolutely use this misunderstanding of the Egoist philosophy to score another goal.

[stilldancewithyou]

What are some things from the 2nd book you absolutely want to see next season, and why? I’ve always seen book 2 as a very intimate look at grief. It’s so sad, and I really think informs the decisions all of the characters make. I’m curious to see how they tackle that. I’d love to hear your take. I’ve been following your observations and always love what you have to say. 🙂

One of my favorite parts of book two was the way it showed everyone's grief, in as you said, an intimate way. As someone who has personal experience with grieving the loss of a close family member, it's really important to me to see the grief part done well and realistically, if that makes sense. It was done so well in the books, like even the way Laurel is in the background to sad to even remember to eat and just locking herself away in her office so Belly and Steven won't see her being sad just gets me and I hope they show that in the show. I liked that the books showed Susannah's funeral (despite what happened between Conrad and Belly there) and just how raw everyone's emotions were. You could really feel how sad everyone was. So I hope the show gives us that same intimate, raw look at grief, and carries it through into the 3rd season (bc you could tell how they were still a little sad in the 3rd book even though it had been a few years).

Thing I most want to see is Conrad and Belly's December night. I want to see him picking her up and waiting outside for her, giving her his sweater because she forgot to put her coat on, and I want to see all of their conversations in Cousins in entirety. I want to see how awkward and careful he is at first, sitting on the other side of the couch, and I want to feel how much they both want each other but he slows her down and is super gentle, just everything in that chapter on my screen please.

And the infinity necklace. Even though it's already been introduced, I hope it comes back for season 2 like in the book. I want to see her find it and be confused and surprised and put it on. I need that whole bit after Conrad catches her kissing Jeremiah with the necklace on where he asks for it back and tells her she knows what it means. I want to see how shattered his heart is in that moment. And then I need the entire motel scene. I hope they do that right.

I also want to see Adam being an asshole and Laurel calling him out and saving the house. And the dynamic sort of changing between Belly and the boys, the angst and jealous between them. Because for me reading how the boys slowly began to realize they both really wanted her and she wanted both of them cracked me up. And there were just some funny conversations between them when they were all at the house together. And the way they belly flop her before they leave I need to see too.

Idk I feel like the book is SO good and I hope they do it justice and maybe add some more flashbacks and things they didn't have time to add in season 1. Apparently Cam Cameron was on set filming season 2 and I wonder if Nicole and the other girls will be back too...my prediction is that there either simply just at the funeral or else they come to the party the boys and Belly have on what they believe is their last night in the beach house (at least that's what I hope their involvement is! I don't want a bunch of other/new plotlines and characters taking away from the story and plot).

The fact that they had a college set they were filming at makes me so happy bc the college scenes were so good! I hope they include the scene where they're out on the lawn and Conrad comes back from his exam and tells them he passed and is all excited and picks Belly up and spins her around and then Jeremiah is just looking on like 🙄.

anyway. I'm gonna stop there so I don't end up turning this into a novel lol.

[tobias-fell]

Mid Year Book Freakout Tag

yes this is mostly a youtube thing. but im doing it. i want to

Rules: answer the questions, tag some people, have fun! or don't. i'm not the boss of you

What's the best book you've read so far in 2022?

I haven't technically finished it, but The Lies Of Locke Lamora, 100%. It's fun, fantastical, adventurous, amazingly written, and heart-crushing :D

What's the best sequel you've read so far in 2022?

RULE OF WOLVES BY LEIGH BARDUGO

Best 2022 release you've read so far?

I've only read two 2022 releases, but probably The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School. It was a fun read that knew how to pack some punches in there, and I read it in like a day.

What's a 2022 or otherwise recent release you want to get to?

Probably Zachary Ying and the Dragon Emperor. I just finished the author's other book, and I'm interested what her middle grade writing is like. (I'm on a quest to figure out if I like Xiran Jay Zhao's books or not.) Plus, it sounds super fun.

What's your most anticipated release for the second half of the year?

Foul Lady Fortune by Chloe Gong!!!! I haven't finished her debut, These Violent Delights, yet, however I love it so far and FLF sounds like a super cool premise. (I'll have to finish the TVD series first, though, since I think FLF spoils it.)

What's the most disappointing book you've read this year?

This is Not the Jess Show. It was just... underwhelming, with a predictable plot and flat characters.

What book surprised you the most? (In a good or bad way.)

The Heartstopper volumes by Alice Oseman! I didn't expect to like them as much as I did, but they ended up being super fluffy and adorable (part of the reason I actually thought I wouldn't like them, lol). 10/10 recommend if you like romance and graphic novels.

What's the book you've read or bought/received this year with the most beautiful cover?

White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson. Like, the story inside was good and all, but the cover.... it's amazing. God tier.

What books do you hope to read before the year is over?

haha.... hahahaha..... uh

gideon the ninth, on earth we're briefly gorgeous, crime and punishment, sal & gabi number two, the locke lamora sequels, the poppy war, spy x family vol 1, a gathering of shadows, and going postal.

~

I don't actually know who would and wouldn't be interested in doing this tag, so I'm leaving it open. If you do it because you saw my post, please tag me! I'd love to hear about what other people are reading.

[eponastory]

Can we talk about Sozin's Comet for a minute?

I know it's fiction, but the amateur Astronomer and AstroPhotographer in me is like WTF would a ball of ice going around the sun make firebenders so powerful? Yes, comets have a lot to do with the sun, or rather, their brilliance can only be seen when it's approaching its closest point to the sun. Not only that, but if a comet got close enough to graze the outer atmosphere of a planet, we are all dead. It's called gravitational pull, and anything bigger than that ball of is is going to pull it in.

I mean... it makes no sense... to me anyway. Because I'm a science nerd.

But the reason I'm talking about Sozin's Comet is that it's a plot device in AtLA. Now, I have no real problems with it being a plot device. It gives us an important climactic event, and it's also the most built-up part of the story. Does it make sense to science nerds like me? No, but it's fiction. I'm a science nerd who is also a writer, I get it. I've seen weirder shit written into stories that have no basis in science whatsoever because there is a degree of magic system in sci-fi writing. Star Wars is a big example of this. These days, they are getting better about using science in the SWU. Is it better? Eh... it's starting to feel like Marvel with the shows popping out all the time.

So, for writers who don't like Sozin's Comet as a plot device because of the science stuff... I get you. I really do.

Speaking of comets, there is going to be a brilliant one later this year and I'm super excited about it because it's supposed to be seen with the naked eye. PANSTARS and NEOWISE were supposed to be brilliant too, but they weren't as bright as forecasted. Still great comets though.

Anyway, the reason I'm bringing this up is there are other astronomical events that could amplify a firebender's power.

So, perhaps there is a Supernova in the Galactic neighborhood of the AtLA world? These things aren't predictable, unless you have a really powerful telescope and a bunch of scientific equipment, but this would be a huge event for firebenders. The last visible supernova for us was in 1054 AD and was visible for two years. Could you imagine if firebenders were unstoppable for two years? 😳 yikes. Talk about taking over the world. But it is a significant celestial event that is a bit unpredictable. Comets are a bit more predictable since they are in a locked orbit.

The average solar cycle for our beautiful star, Sol, is eleven years. But we could easily make that happen every one hundred years or so. Every star has a cycle as it grows older. It's a process of making new elements in its core where nuclear fusion and fission happen. An eleven year cycle is pretty average for a G type main sequence star. But they can be longer or shorter. Having a solar maximum would also be crucial for firebenders.

Near Earth Passes... which is what Sozin's Comet (not a comet) really is. It's an asteroid or a stellar object that is close enough to graze the outer atmosphere and essentially burn up. Think of the Chelyabinsk Meteor back in February 2013. That was a sizable meteor that exploded up in the atmosphere and created a very bright fireball. Fireballs are pretty cool depending on the mineral and elemental composition of the meteor. We actually get Near-Earth passes all the time, and usually, it's put out on social media in a kind of Armageddon type headline. Don't worry, it's got to be really close to be an impact. But some do graze the atmosphere. Which is why I believe Sozin's Comet really isn't a Comet. It's a Near Earth Pass. Which is fine. They could call it a Comet with their technology not a big deal.

Solar Flares are iffy. They happen all the time so I'd think that Firebenders would actually have some days where their bending is better than others thanks to solar flares. It's a pretty cool concept to have a day where there is above average bending. Like 'hey, my fire is a bit brighter today' and they just roll with it. Pretty common. I may use this in a story somewhere.

Perihelion is when a planet is closest to the star in its orbit. Strangely, ours is in the middle of Northern Hemisphere winter and furthest in summer. It's just going to be slightly hotter in the Southern Hemisphere summers. But honestly, I don't see it being a huge effect on bending because there isn't a lot of difference. We don't really notice it here.

Days are longer in the summer, so that's normal too. Simply because a planets axis wobbles a bit and that's why we get seasons.

Meteor showers could be a thing to use that does have to do with comets. I don't think that would be a huge amplifier since they happen periodically through the year.

Not only that, but there are hundreds of comets that pass by us on a hundred year basis. HALLEY'S Comet (1986) has a seventy-six year orbit. The one I remember the most was HALE-BOPP in 97.

If I were going to pick something to use in place of Sozin's Comet... it would probably be the Solar Cycle or a Supernova. I mean, there are just plain old Novas like the one that we could see any day now with T-Coronae Borealis... it's a short period of time compared to supernova.

Oh gosh, I've gone on way too long about boring shit. But I'm freaking passionate about astronomy. So you'll have to forgive me.

But these are just a few celestial events that could be used in place of Sozin's Comet if you want to get a bit creative with your fanfiction. Like I could totally get behind any of these things being a plot device. A Supernova would be absolutely catastrophic for the entire world of AtLA.

Solar Maximum seems like a plausible win there.

Again, I know it's fiction, but come on... you know you want to have fun with the science.

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

--

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

--

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

--

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

--

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

--

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

--

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

--

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

--

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

--

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

--

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

--

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

--

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

--

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

--

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

--

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

--

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

[maddieinwonder]

Bait & Switch

Spencer Reid x GN!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None, super fluffy 

Word Count: 3.5k words 

Plot: Reader reveals that they’re going to buy a Nintendo Switch so Spencer invites them to go together with him. In the process, some feelings reveal themselves.  

Author’s Note: My first time writing about Spencer, and actually, my first time writing a fic in a long time haha. Just imagine that this takes place in 2017, although you don’t have to know anything about the Switch in order to read this.

Masterlist

-------------- 

"What's got you in such a good mood, baby?" Derek asked, leaning over his chair. Even without looking up, you could feel the smirk that decorated his face. After almost a month at the BAU, you didn’t need to be a profiler to expect this much from Derek. "Got a date this weekend?"

You tried to focus on your paperwork before relenting, rolling your eyes. Still, you couldn't hide the smile in your voice when you shot back a reply. "With this job? You wish, Morgan."

"Give yourself some credit, beautiful. With your looks I'm sure you could score a good looking fellow for a night you won't forget."

"I'm sure you would know all about that," you replied, this time grinning from ear to ear.

Ever since you joined the BAU, your seat has always been across Derek Morgan. The guy was a terrible flirt but also one of the most trustworthy people you knew, so you couldn't keep up a sarcastic mood for long.

"Actually," you replied genuinely, "I'll be lining up this weekend to buy a Nintendo Switch." Out of the corner of your eye, you could sense Spencer stiffen in his chair next to you.

"A what switch?" Derek asked, his face scrunching up in confusion.

But before you could begin to reply him, Spencer rolled his chair over and opened his mouth. The both of you knew what was coming.

"The Nintendo Switch. A video game console developed by Japanese company Nintendo that's completely one-of-its-kind, on account of its console functioning like a tablet that can either be docked on a home console and linked to a TV, or used as a portable device with two wireless controllers so you can..."

Not being able to help yourself, you giggled at his info dump. You've always admired how much knowledge he could store in his big brain. But more importantly, you thought he was kind of cute like this. A fire would light in his eyes and it seemed like the world around him ceased to exist.

You only realised you were staring at Spencer when the last bits of his question registered in your mind. "...you going to?"

Blinking your eyes, you snapped to attention. Derek seemed to notice, because you felt his signature smirk return to his face.

"Which store are you going to?" Spencer repeated the question. Anybody else might be annoyed, but he only seemed mildly restless. A rare look for the unathletic genius.

"I'm going to the one three blocks down from here," you replied.

"So am I!" Spencer sat upright in his chair, beaming. You think that this is the most excitement he's expressed to you since you joined the BAU.

Then his confidence seemed to waver. He began tugging at the edge of his sleeve, eyes glancing to the side at nothing in particular when he asked, "W-would you like t-to go together?"

A smile spreads across your face before you can stop it. "Sure! Sounds like fun."

Spencer grinned back, and there was a moment of silence before Derek interrupted the conversation that he began. "Well, I'll leave you and lover boy to plan your date. I'm going to spend my Friday night at the bar."

Your heart thumped involuntarily at the word "date", while Derek turned to Emily. "Hey Prentiss, you want to grab a few drinks and dinner? I'm sure I can get the others to leave work for one night."

"Anything's better than this," Emily shrugged, lifting her mug of already-cold coffee.

Standing up to retrieve her bag, she smirked at you and Spencer, having heard more of the conversation than she let on. "Have a great weekend, you lovebirds. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

She and Derek shared a laugh as they moved towards the Batcave to retrieve Garcia next.

As you watched them go, you feel Spencer's eyes on you and a flush warming your cheeks. You knew they were just teasing you with the word "date", but the truth is you've liked the genius almost as soon as you met him.

You may not have an eidetic memory, but you could still remember the flutter of butterflies that exploded in your chest when you first laid eyes on Dr. Spencer Reid.

He had waved from a comfortable distance, the other hand tucked in the pocket of his dark slacks. He towered over you easily with curly locks that barely touched his sweater vest, and you swore you've never seen anybody more attractive in your life. His intelligence only added to your attraction. 

"Shall I pick you up at 7am tomorrow?"

You turned back to Spencer, who seemed even more nervous now that everybody in the bullpen had left. Yet what he was proposing was rather bold compared to his usual behaviour.

“Pick me up?” You repeated.

“It’ll be easier to find a parking spot that way, and the weather report predicts that tomorrow will be a sunny day, so I know you’d rather not walk three blocks to the store.” He rambled nervously.

“You know me well, Spencer.” A cheeky smile snuck onto your face, and in a moment of false bravado, you said what was on your mind. “7am. It’s a date, then.”

Spencer’s face turned beet red.

You didn’t wait to dwell on his reaction, dumping the last of your paperwork into a pile and picking up your bag. But as you walked to the elevator, you couldn’t help yourself from grinning ear to ear. It was a date. Kind of.

-------------- 

You couldn’t sleep. You had gotten home earlier than usual, but the extra time to plan for your “date” tomorrow proved to be a bad idea.

What would you wear? What would you talk about? Should you extend it to a meal, or dessert, or maybe coffee?

Although you were confident in the moment, you were beginning to regret teasing Spencer before you left. You’d known him long enough to know how he reacted to embarrassment, and there’s a good chance he might back away because of your forwardness. 

You groaned, trying to get these thoughts out of your head. The reality of the "date" was sinking in now. This would be the first time that you and Spencer would be alone in a non-work setting. To say that you were nervous was a gross understatement. 

But there was something worse than showing up nervous, which was showing up nervous and sleep-deprived, so you turned off your bedside lamp and tried to will yourself to sleep. That's when your phone began to buzz.

You were so on edge that the sound almost made you fall off your bed. Turning over your phone, your heart leapt to your throat.

Spencer, 2:03am: Sorry to disturb you when it's so late, but I realised I don’t have your address. Could you send it to me when you're awake?

You gulped. Just relax, just relax, you repeated in your head.

Me, 2:05am: It’s alright, you didn’t wake me up. I’ll attach my address below.

Spencer, 2:06am: Thanks. Having trouble sleeping?

Me, 2:07am: A little

Spencer, 2:08am: Me too.

What was I supposed to reply to that? You silently screamed. But it turned out you didn't have to figure it out.

Spencer, 2:11am: To be honest, I'm a little nervous about tomorrow.

Me, 2:13am: Why?

Spencer, 2:15am: I suppose it’s because we've never spent any time alone before.

Hearing the genius act so shy made you feel a little more brave.

Me, 2:16am: Well, I'm looking forward to the chance

Spencer, 2:17am: I am too.

Despite your nerves, you smiled at his small confession.

Spencer, 2:19am: We should get some sleep.

Me, 2:19am: I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Spence

Spencer, 2:20am: Sweet dreams.

Your anxieties were washed away and replaced with the biggest smile on your face. Without knowing it, Spencer’s words rippled a sense of calm over you, and you fell asleep shortly after. 

The next morning, you woke up with a newfound clarity. You knew what you were going to wear. 

-------------- 

Spencer couldn't stop tapping the edge of his steering wheel. He knew he was nervous, and admitting it to you last night didn't do much to stop that fact from eating away at him.

He texted you 3 minutes ago that he was waiting outside your apartment, but you hadn't replied. Although he knew that there were plenty of logical reasons why you might have missed his text, his hands didn't stop itching to call you and see if you were alright.

Then out of the corner of his eye, you emerged from the corridor and he felt his heart speed up.

You were wearing a blue flannel that he'd never seen you in before with a pair of dark jeans. Your hair, which you usually kept in a up-do at work, was let down in waves, touching your shoulders. And then there was the pièce de résistance, you were wearing a Doctor Who t-shirt with the TARDIS on it.

Hook, line, and sinker.

He didn't break his gaze on you the entire time you got into his car. Even when you beamed at him and wished him a good morning, a small yawn escaping your perfect lips, he was completely tongue-tied.

"Earth to Spencer," you called out, looking up at him curiously. "You there?"

Spencer shook his head suddenly, cursing himself internally for being such a doofus. "Sorry, uh, I was distracted. Good morning." He smiled sheepishly, tucking a stray hair strand behind his ear.

"Anyway," he cleared his throat. "I was thinking we could grab some coffee before we headed to the store? We can make it quick. I know there'll be some people already lining up."

He peeked at you rubbing your eyes and thought it was the cutest thing he's ever seen. “Looks like you might need it," he said without realising he'd just flirted with you.

You giggled, lowering your hands from your face. "Sounds great." 

-------------- 

Spencer wasn't lying when he said it'd be quick, although in truth you could have taken all the time in the world and you would still be happy. The initial awkwardness between you washed away almost immediately as you fell into a quiet conversation about your favourite Doctor Who episodes. 

You wanted to commit the sight of him driving in the morning to memory. The sun had just rose, lighting a gentle halo around Spencer’s messy hair and sculptured face. He was wearing a bigger sweater than usual, the sleeves hanging around his wrists loosely. While his eyes were focused on the road, his lips parted slightly as he softly bantered with you about David Tennant. 

You felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and kiss him despite the driving hazard. And despite the fact that you’ve never kissed him, of course. But you could hope. And hope you did. 

Your hope had grown when he parked in front of the coffee house you’d once mentioned was your favourite. Spencer made your coffee order perfectly and you had found yourself hoping that it was because he’d paid extra attention to you, and not because of his brilliant memory. 

And when you reached the video game store and he opened the door for you, you hoped it was because he wanted to make a good impression, not only because he was a gentleman. 

And when he stood between you and a video game rack in line, you hoped that he was trying to shield you from the other people in the store, and you hoped that he was thinking of pressing you against the rack and kissing the daylights out of you. 

You needed to get a hold of yourself. 

The conversation had swapped to the reason why you two were here in the first place, and you found yourself talking to Spencer about Breath of the Wild, a game that brought you back to fond memories of your childhood. 

“The Legend of Zelda was the first video game I ever played, on the first console I ever owned.” You shared, smiling fondly. “It was the video game that my brother and I bonded over, and we bought every game together since.”

Spencer nodded in rapt. You felt him leaning closer to you, although it may have been your imagination. 

“This is actually the first time I haven’t been with him for a new game,” you realised. “Due to our jobs, we haven’t seen each other in awhile, but we still text each other!” You tried to end on a lighter note, not wanting to bring the mood down on this “date”.

Spencer looked at you as if he wanted to say something, but he kept his lips shut. 

“What about you? What was your first video game?” You threw the question to him, trying to divert attention away from your sad-enough story. 

He blushed in response to your question and looked down at his black converse. You noticed he began touching his sleeve in a familiar motion and you looked at him suspiciously. “Spencer?”

“W-well, the t-truth is, I didn’t actually c-come here to buy a Switch, and I don’t play video games at all.“ The last part of his sentence came out rapidly. You might have missed it, if you weren’t already used to the tongue twisters he spit out on a daily basis.

“What?” You exclaimed a little too loudly, causing the other shoppers in line to glance at you weirdly. “Then... Then what are you doing here?” You said quieter this time. Your eyebrows furrowed as your mind scanned the possibilities. 

“W-well, I, uh, wanted to spend time with you,” he blurted out. He raised his eyes to meet yours, his face completely red.

It was your turn to be flustered now. Your voice was quiet and you could feel your hands shaking. “Is this a date, Spencer?” 

“Only if you want it to be, I mean, I want it to be but your opinion matters to me, and I wouldn’t want to bring you on a date if you didn’t want to. We can just hang out like friends if that’s more comfortable--” 

You grabbed his free hand, gently lowering it from where it was moving as he rambled, until your fingers were intertwined. 

“I would like it to be,” a large smile took over your face. You were a little teary despite how weird it was to confess your feelings for him in a video game store of all places. 

Spencer was quiet for a moment, squeezing your hand in return. “Would you like to go for lunch after this? As a date,” he clarified this time. 

"I would love that,” you beamed at him, “as a date.” 

-------------- 

Spencer had always imagined the kind of girl he would fall in love with. Caring, intelligent, had an appreciation for classic literature, maybe. But when he saw you for the first time, every expectation he held flew out of the window.  

You were beautiful. Wavy dark hair tied into a high ponytail, wearing a navy shirt, and funnily enough, a beige cardigan and black converse. Morgan joked that it was like meeting Spencer 2.0, but he disagreed: the two of you were worlds apart. 

You were incredibly tech savvy, although not as much as Garcia, but certainly more than the rest. You loved the smell and taste of coffee without sugar. You were happy to hug everybody you met, from colleagues to victims. You didn’t like paperback so you read everything on a Kindle. 

But the biggest difference between the two of you, was that you were emotionally intelligent. 

All of your brilliance, combined with your PhD in psychology - having worked as a psychiatrist affiliated with Sex Crimes before joining the BAU - you were able to pick out the team’s moods from a single glance. It’s what endeared everyone to you immediately, and what made you such a great profiler.   

But the way you treated him was different. You just, listened to him. While everyone else had gotten into the habit of cutting him off or simply ignoring him when he opened his mouth, your eyes would light up instead. 

He could always tell you were listening because you would look into his eyes when he spoke, and you would ask him questions after he was done. 

It made him feel like the world around him ceased to exist, except for you. 

So he started studying your interests to grab your attention, trying to throw in a few jokes hoping to see you smile. It only took one month for him to seize his chance. Still, never in his calculations did he think you would say yes. 

He smiled at the thought, stroking your hair gently as you cuddled on the couch together, watching you play Breath of the Wild. 

After a more than successful first date, you had asked him to come over the next day to spend more time together. A month ago, he would have politely declined with an excuse like needing to read a new academic journal, but when he arrived at your doorstep he allowed himself to be drawn into your arms, relishing the giggle he earned as a reward for being hugged. 

“Damn it,” you grumbled quietly as you ran out of stamina scaling a cliffside for the fifth time.

Spencer laughed. Without a second thought, he pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head. 

In the background Link fell off the cliff once again, the game playing a sound that he came to recognise as Link dying. But there were no curses this time, as you had turned to look at Spencer, nothing but adoration in your eyes. 

“That was our first kiss,” you said so quietly and sweetly that Spencer’s heart melted at the sound of it. 

“First?” He took his chance, leaning closer. “You know, the usage of the word ‘first’ almost always implies that there will be a ‘second’ and a ‘third’ and a...” 

His voice trailed off as your fingers left the controller to touch his lips. Your touch was intoxicating and he wanted more. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Spence,” you started, lifting your finger from his lips. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you-” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he managed to get out in a hurry before capturing your lips in his. He felt your astonishment at first, but you quickly lost yourself in the kiss as he brought his hands up to cup the sides of your face, deepening the kiss further. 

You finally broke apart after awhile, both panting for air and smiling widely. Spencer never thought he could be so lucky. “That’s the second one,” he said quietly, bringing up two fingers to indicate the number. 

You looked at him with love in your eyes and abandoned your controller on the table before throwing yourself at him, flattening the two of you against your couch. 

“Ready for the third?”

-------------- 

Derek Morgan wasn’t an idiot. That’s why he could tell that something had changed over the weekend between his desk mate and boy genius. 

The two came into work together on Monday morning, which was weird in itself, but they also took every opportunity to stick to each other, from coffee breaks to disappearing for lunch and “asking” about paperwork. 

When they vanished for the umpteenth time that day for coffee, Derek leaned over Emily’s desk to confirm his theory. 

“It’s not just me. Pretty boy finally made a move, didn’t he?” He cocked an eyebrow. 

“Definitely. Those two are so obvious that even Hotch has picked up on it. From his office.” She quipped, grinning as her eyes moved to the scene behind Derek. “Speak of the devil.” 

Entering the conversation, Spencer did what he did best. “Did you know that ‘speak of the devil’ is the short form of the idiom ‘speak of the devil and he doth appear’? The phrase can be traced back to the 16th century when mentioning the devil was considered prohibited. In fact, when people were caught saying the phrase--” 

Derek caught your eyes drifting to look adoringly at Spencer. He couldn’t take this anymore. “So what happened between you two last weekend, huh?” he interrupted, smirking. 

Your reaction was better than he gambled. You turned a bright red and your eyes darted between Spencer and Derek in panic, truly flustered for the first time since he’s met you. But Spencer was strangely calm, his eyes travelling from his best friend to Emily in the background trying to stifle her laughter, while a small smile tugged at his lips. 

“We’re dating now,” he announced to the two a little triumphantly, while rubbing your shoulder as a peaceful gesture. 

Derek and Emily were stunned by their friend’s directness, only to be shocked out of it as Hotch walked by. “Finally,” he muttered, loud enough for them all to hear. 

You were the first to crack a smile, then the rest followed suit with laughs and congratulations. Hearing the uproar, Garcia and JJ peeked out of their rooms, joining in and demanding more details about this new but not entirely unexpected development. 

Amidst the chaos, Spencer laces his hands in yours and gives it a squeeze. For the first time in a long time, you feel unequivocally, unmistakably happy. 

[chrisevansluv]

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

[electricprincess96]

Do you think they purposely timed the last Bernie and Dorothea alts to be released just before CYL? They could pull a Camilla, but I just don't know how much staying power 3H characters have. The only character who I can see scoring high because of a lack of alts is Marianne, but since 3H sweep last year was just all timeskip designs, I think it's a little less likely now. This might actually show how 3H characters really rank in the franchise.

I don't know if it's necessarily deliberate but it might potentially hurt their chances since something similar happened with Eirika a few years back.

I do think 3H will feature in the top 10, you got to remember plenty of players started playing Heroes BECAUSE they played 3H and thats the only game from the series they really know BUT I don't necessarily think it'll dominate the way it did last year but I might be wrong.

Dorothea and Bernie are also not on the level of popularity Camilla was, Camilla was the Fates equivalent of Edelgard I terms of popularity (maybe not exact numbers wise but IS kept giving us Camilla alts becauseshe obviously made them enough money in Orb sales whenever she was on a banner and cold hard cash doesn't lie), Camilla was the "it girl" of Fates and the only reason it took her so long to get in was because the voting pool was more competitive, she was up against Lucina, Lyn, Celica and an actual online effort to stop her from winning which got us Brave Veronica. Dorothea and Bernie have their fans but the only real thing they've got going for them over Camilla is the fact the voting pool is now without all those super obvious winners.

I think its possible one of the Byleth's might sneak in, for some reason people seem to love this block of wood. Also apparently Yuri and Gatekeeper are getting some traction on twitter. I like Yuri a lot but if they're just gonna give us his timeskip design then honestly I'm not interested. Gatekeeper could be.... something I guess I mean I liked him in the game but out of the entire series of Fire Emblem I'm sorry he doesn't deserve to rank above like 90% of these actual playable characters.

But honestly this one is actually really hard to predict, voting being locked to Nintendo Accounts now might lower the likelihood of botting (depends on how desperate someone is). Besides Marth, Eirika and maybe Chrom all the really popular Lords already have Brave Alts (sorry to all Leif, Seliph and Sigurd fans but you gotta admit compared to the above very few people actually care about them) and normally the Lords are the easiest characters to get a large number of people to all agree to rally behind. Camilla was an exception because she was just that popular, Veronica because people rallied behind her to beat Camilla that year and Lysithea was riding "new game" wave being one of the more popular characters from that specific game so recency bias helped her a lot there.

This will definitely prove whether or not 3H has any real staying power because the latest spam of Fates hate seems to almost be a backlash to the fact people are starting to get over the honeymoon period on 3H and realise its a mediocre to good game with a pretty overall meh plot riddled with plot holes and the only really well written route is the one that's closest to standard Fire Emblem.

I guess we wait patiently for the half way results, that should give us a good enough idea on whether it's another all 3H banner (which I honestly pray it isn't cause last years banner was boring as hell) or if we'll get something more interesting.

[danwhobrowses]

WWE Wrestlemania 37 Day 1 - Review

Big Card, Not so big build

But it is that time of the year, we Stood, we Delivered, and now we shall Showcase for the Grandest Stage of them All

I got hyped for it by watching Bret vs Owen so I do have expectations, I haven't been spoiled too much save for the Main Event and the fact that there was storms that delayed the event, I dunno if they cut that content but we shall see Note: I am gonna bold who I predicted to win per match as well just to show how right/wrong I was

Spoilers for Wrestlemania Night 1, You Have Been Warned

Pre-Show The opening panel was not so great; Booker (with a captain Hook moustache), JBL, Lawler and Rosenberg, bunch of contrarian drivel really and trying to make Braun/Shane out like it deserves on the card just doesn't sit with me, that match robbed a potential Father/Son Tag Title Victory for the Mysterios (I know the Dirty Dawgs won on SD but I feel like they wouldn't have retained if it were Mania). Most of the promo packages were good at the least since they can cut out all the shoddy booking decisions and act like some stars were underbooked over the past year. I will say though, selling BelAir and Banks as 'the first time a women's singles match has main evented Wrestlemania' is a bit of a slight on the triple threat - which would've been 1v1 if Vinny didn't want to be adamant in adding more feathers to Charlotte's peahen plumage - it was still a singles match, sometimes WWE's desire for 'first time evers' are a bit insufferable. Also this is not 'the most important match of Cesaro's career', that is a terrible thing to say about a non-title match revolving around Rollins feeling embarrassed. The Hall of Fame recap was a mixed bag as well, mainly because I disagreed with some of the inductions and the way they tried to sell them bigger than what they are, but I was glad for some - Liger, Bulldog, Molly Holly, Kane...still waiting on Lillian and Andy Kaufman to get inducted though. Sonya also popped up to promote the tag turmoil and retreading the main event, she was super natural and should've been on the whole panel, or in the ring. Sonya's talents are wasted right now.

No Match though! An Hour of Recap lacked any entertainment seeing as we'd see all these promo packages again on the main card. So overall this was entirely skippable.

Main Card...Delayed Vince opened the event to address the crowd, which was kinda nice actually. It was a much more inclusive introduction than just having someone singing America the Beautifu-oh they're still doing tha-boooooooobs! It's also kinda weird looking at the roster not even on the card on the stage, like this is their only contribution for the entire year...

The intro package was a big obnoxious too, dude does an okay Jack Sparrow accent but it kinda went on a bit long, 10 minutes into the main show and there's no wrestling y'know?

Byron out with a super white suit as well, looking like Liberace as weather warnings echoed the arena, with news that it'll be worse tomorrow I hope that arena has a roof. With the delay WWE pulled with interviews, Big E even showed up to join his New Day buddies. Cole's 'Wrestlerainia' did not land and Braun saying 'I'm fighting for everyone whose been bullied' doesn't land either, we had this story with Nia and Alexa years ago. I also hate 'Herstory', like the literal word I hate it, History has adapted well beyond gender. Sure, it evolved from the Greek Histor which means 'wise' or 'a learned man' but the His is not the agent noun, the Tor is, and it's a gender neutral noun, if it were a Latin root then it'd be masculine but its root is Ancient Greek - there's your Etymology lesson for tonight.

The irony though, the moment fans get back in the arena they have to come back out because of rain.

Main Card - This Time Around Titus and Hulk came out as hosts to ramp up the crowd, it was kinda uncomfortable in context really, plus we don't need a third rundown of the card. Reminder that those in bold was who I earlier predicted to win.

WWE Championship - Bobby Lashley [w/MVP] (c) def. Drew McIntyre (Ref Stoppage Submission via Hurt Lock) Starting hot with the World title match again, bit odd to see Lashley do his point pose on the ramp and no pyro, but both men fixed their eyes on each other and barely looked away. Their history goes beyond WWE after all, not that the commentary would tell you. The did come out with a ton of falsities though, I know the WWE Championship was at several times the most prestigious belt in wrestling but not all the time in that 60 years, Big Gold Belt, IWGP and 10 Pounds of Gold had times too, AEW also can tout that, but Cole's most baffling claim was that you'd need to win it to be a Hall of Famer - on the same year Bulldog who never won a world title was inducted. No quick draw like last year, the match started with some meat slapping, Drew even gesturing a fuck you with the Bras d'honneur to Lashley after knocking him down. Both men would trade blows and advantage, Drew almost locking an armbreaker but Lashley clubbing free - very weird camera cutting there. Lashley hit 2 throws and a neckbreaker to regain the advantage, he didn't get the Futureshock but he hit a nice Northern Lights Suplex. Lashley hit his newer version of the Dominator and an Uranage but both only kept Drew down for 2, he almost got the Hurt Lock as Drew fought back with some blows and a front-facing Alabama Slam, he tried a superplex but Lashley fought out, tried a kimura but got knocked down, so he went for the Tree of Woe throw he does. Lashley gets him with another Uranage but Drew kips up, belly to belly, Futureshock, Futureshock, Futureshock! 1, 2, No! Drew calls for the Claymore but Lashley rolls out, MVP coming late, Drew then does a Tope onto both. He goes up top but almost gets caught with the Hurt Lock, an Exploder and a Flatliner puts Lashley in the driver's seat, he tries for the Hurt Lock again but is driven into the Turnbuckle, Drew then locks in the Kimura but Lashley gets to the ropes. After trading shots Lashley lands into a boot and a headbutt, Drew looks for the Claymore but MVP shouts to distract him, allowing Lashley to dodge and get the Hurt Lock in, Drew tried to fight back, tried to roll out of it by kicking the turnbuckle but Lashley cinched it in tight, fading, fading, and the ref calls the bell.

A very good opener this one, big men slapping meat can hardly go wrong. Not too many false finishes either and MVP only psyches Drew out rather than got fully involved. It was right for Drew to fade rather than tap too. First prediction wins, I did think it was a risk but I expected it because WWE had sold the idea that they wanted Drew to win in front of a crowd, but he had held the title for most of the year, so I anticipated the swerve. Still, we didn't have to break up the Hurt Business for this, hopefully Lashley gets more time to shine.

As Lashley celebrated with some strange camera switching we moved to Titus, the NWO and a Bayley segment. Bayley trying to sell her Ding Dong Hello and being denied some Two Sweets, a huge waste of Bayley's talents especially with the year she has had.

Tag Team Turmoil for a shot at the WWE Women's Tag Championship on Night 2 - Natalya & Tamina def. Naomi & Lana, the Riott Squad [Liv Morgan & Ruby Riott], Billie Kay & Carmella and Dana Brooke & Mandy Rose (pinfall by Tamina on Ruby Riott via Superfly Splash) Props to Billie Kay selling the lack of cohesion in her and Carmella's entrance as they started the match against Lana & Naomi. Naomi started with the advantage but it was traded to Carmella when Lana was tagged in, then to Billie, then back to Naomi. A double facebuster flattens Billie but Carmella breaks the pin, after Carmella throws Lana out Billie rolls up Naomi - who is also strengthened by Carmella lying on the floor but using her feet to keep Billie up right - for 3, eliminating that team. Naomi is not happy, as she should be that was a huge waste, as the Riott Squad come in. Sporting Suicide Squad Joker (Ruby) & Harley (Liv) outfits, the Riott Squad start hot but are foiled by Carmella's tag. Liv is the feeder to Carmella and Billie's combos, they try the same rollup trick but they are caught by the ref, Carmella's dumped allowing Liv to hit a codebreaker and hold Billie down for Ruby's senton for the 3, the two embrace but Carmella superkicks Liv as Dana & Manda arrive in pink, Mandy humorously slipping on the ramp did not go unmissed. With Liv taken out Ruby tried to fight alone, Dana hits a top rope blockbuster but Liv comes back to break the pin. Dana hits a spinning neckbreaker and tags Mandy in, a pin for 2 by Ruby opens the door for Liv to be tagged in, a Codebreaker/Riott Kick combo lands but the pin is broken by Dana. Cole accidentally calls Mandy 'Dana' as she rallies, Dana comes back to dump Ruby out as they land the Superplex/Swanton combo on Liv, Mandy pulls Ruby from making the save but Liv reverses the pin for 3. The announcer then wrongly says that the Riott Squad were eliminated and has to be corrected, making you think this wasn't the plan. Natalya and Tamina pick up the scraps, Natalya tries a Sharpshooter but gets rolled up for 2, she drops Liv onto the ropes and tags Tamina in. Natalya hits a powerbomb but Ruby breaks the pin before being dumped out by Tamina again. Liv fights both women enough for Ruby to tag in, an assisted spear on Tamina leads to the Codebreaker/Senton combo but it hits for 2. They set up the Codebreaker/Riott Kick but Tamina yanks Riott away and superkicks Liv. Natalya returns to hit the Hart Attack on Ruby, looks to set up the Sharpshooter but instead tells Tamina to take point, Superfly Splash gets the win. The champions look on on a monitor at their opponents.

A bit of a mixed bag this one, the wrestling was clean but I think external botching brought it down, as well as questionable booking decisions. Naomi is a multi-time champion she should not be pinned so quickly. I did again correctly predict Nattie and Tamina, but I personally wanted the Riott Squad to win, it was the Heyman dressing down that motivated me to pick the Daughter Combo - also weird that they acknowledge Tamina's heritage given what Superfly did. The Riotts at least got a great showing, the finish took a bit of a long time considering that all Liv took from them was a superkick and was out for 2 minutes, hopefully this'll inspire booking to push them which is well overdue. As for Tamina and Natalya, heel vs heel is a tough one, they didn't look like babyfaces here and while I do have them to win the titles this was not a good look for their chances.

Cesaro def. Seth Rollins (pinfall via Neutralizer) Seth entered the ring with a homage to the Andre OBEY print on his tights, followed by his Cesaro smear ad, then Cesaro in a weird choice of just a black jacket as well as black and yellow tights similar to his Wrestlemania XXX attire.

Cesaro starts with a huge uppercut and setting up the Swing, but Seth wriggles out, tries a big boot but Cesaro hits the Dragon Screw and tries for the swing again, but fails again. Cesaro gets a corkscrew springboard uppercut but Seth hurts his arm on the ropes, he gets an uppercut as Seth climbs on the turnbuckle but he kinda didn't get all of it. Going for an Avalanche Gutwrench Suplex, Seth rolls out into a Buckle Bomb for 2, Seth then preys on the arm, Cesaro's arm prevents a rally as Seth hits the Superplex/Falcon Arrow combo for 2. Cesaro flurries with uppercuts, he tries the swing but Rollins keeps countering, first a rollup then going to ropes followed by an Enzugiri, when he tries the Stomp though Cesaro gets the swing, 9 spins causes the arm to give way but he locks in the Sharpshooter (probably why Natalya couldn't/wouldn't do it last match), Rollins gets to the ropes and powers out of the Neutralizer, knee strike and a sling blade sets up for a Corkscrew Frog Splash for 2. Seth sets up the Ripcord Knee but gets lifted into a Neutralizer! 1, 2, No! (Commentary saying again 'and now Cesaro begins to doubt himself), Cesaro tries it again but lands into a Pedigree! 1, 2, No!

Seth gloats surviving both of Cesaro's big moves, clubbing the back of Cesaro's head with his hand and then his leg as he prepares a stomp, Cesaro then hits the uppercut, UFO! Gestures for the Swing and gets it! 23 Rotations, Neutralizer, 3!

That's what I'm talking about! Indy Darling match with some great spots, good crowd involvement and a proper babyface win. Cesaro thanks the crowd as they cheer him on, Seth did show some great creativity which I kinda hoped Cesaro would but it was a small thing in otherwise a great match. I guessed with my heart on this one unlike the Tag Team Turmoil, because of my Universal Title plans really, Cesaro has been given the chance to earn the push we all know he deserves and he's took it, now we can push him further.

Post-match they recapped the AMBR and 4-Way, bit off to say 'Veteran Experience pays off' when Rey was the most experienced of them all, also the 4-Way should've been on the mania card and the tag turmoil on SD. They interviewed the Dirty Dawgs to talk the Raw Tag titles, which was a bit rough to see, it's clear what the pecking order is in Vince's mind.

Raw Tag Championships - AJ Styles & Omos def. New Day [Xavier Woods & Kofi Kingston] (c) (pinfall by Omos on Kofi via Double-Handed Chokeslam TITLE CHANGE) Annoyingly the Champions came out first, but they were introduced by Big E, a Fusion Dance hologram graphic paired with their entrance as they came out in Red to rep the Tampa Bay Bucs in what would've been their 2020 attire, cheekily the 2020's last 0 was scribbled out and a 1 added. Blue trumpet though, couldn't recolour that. AJ and Omos came together too but no matching attire, Omos looked like he was going for dinner. AJ also looked like he stumbled a bit at the start.

Kofi goaded AJ into starting the match rather than Omos, leading to some liquid sequences from both former WWE Champions, each respectively rolling out of an SOS and Calf Crusher. After a back body drop Kofi stared down an unimpressed Omos, then twerked which hurt my soul. Kinda heelishly, Xavier tripped up AJ when a throat chop gave him a reprieve, leading to them keeping AJ in the corner, including the Unicorn Stomp as Omos continued to look unimpressed. Against Xavier AJ tried to drag him to his corner, but cannot get to Omos' halfhearted reaching. A team bulldog only gets 1 though. Kofi then continues to block the corner so AJ goes out of the ring to run around, only to be intercepted by Xavier. AJ continues to try and get to Omos, even being flattened by a splash by Kofi, when setting up their finisher though AJ elbows Kofi away, a visual exchange between the now free AJ and the top-turnbuckle Xavier preludes AJ finally tagging in Omos, Xavier frightened as Omos finally has a smile on his face. The 7'3 giant no sells Xavier's and Kofi's offense, charging into both on either turnbuckle, then a backbreaker to both. AJ then jumped over Omos to hit the Phenomenal Forearm to deal with Woods, Omos hit a two-handed chokeslam then pinned Kofi with one foot for the titles.

I didn't like this match's narrative, the wrestling was fine but the story wasn't done so well. For one, New Day acted more like the heels by bullying AJ and keeping him cornered, for second, Omos didn't really 'wrestle' he just no sold and did 3 safe moves and third, New Day are 11 time tag champions, Kofi a former world champion and they pinned him like that. Disrespect. The fact that the SD Tag Titles are second fiddle to a match where it's just AJ Styles plus the Great Khali, and that's Raw's Division right now, Two Thirds of New Day and this mismatch. This only highlights the severe lack of depth and WWE's booking hypocrisy. Next time you read about a 5 foot something wrestler not getting a title or a push because they're 'too green' or 'can't talk' remember that Omos won the tag titles on his debut match after doing a backbreaker, a turnbuckle tackle and a double handed chokeslam.

Humorous though is that WWE cut to a cringy Corbin ad break just as AJ was falling off of Omos' shoulders, I saw that WWE. We also cut to Sasha preparing for the match as the cage began to lower.

Steel Cage Match - Braun Strowman def. Shane McMahon (pinfall via Running Powerslam) The apathy for this match remains high considering that Shane showed up a couple months ago to steal a card slot from someone who could've been wrestling all year. Shane enters in his usual way, Braun with blinding fog and a train sound effect, cringy commentary as well as Shane keeps the door shut. Elias and Ryker soften Braun with chairs, attacking the legs and gifting Shane a chair who unloads on his grounded opponent. Once he feels he's done enough he tries to leave by the door, but Braun pulls him away, he tries to climb over the cage but gets pulled away, Braun declaring that he won't escape. Shane does his tacky jabs dodging Braun's wide swings, he tries to climb out again but Braun grabs him, but there's a planted piece of sheet metal that he uses as a weapon. After a 1 count Shane tried to escape through the door but fails, Braun decides to throw Shane into the cage walls, opening Shane to be struck by his blows and sandwiched between the cage walls, the leg gives out before the powerslam allowing Shane to ram Braun into the cage wall and DDT him, Coast to Coast gets 2 and Elias and Ryker climb the cage, hoping to pull Shane over, but Braun tackles the cage wall to knock everyone off. Shane makes the climb again but Braun is gripping onto him, bags are planted on the corners of the cage as Shane cracks Braun with a toolbox, as Shane celebrates he gets his leg over, he waves his hand through the cage at Braun but he grabs it, peeling off the cage wall to pull Shane back inside. Braun considers leaving but pulls Shane to the top of the cage, throwing Shane to the ring floor. Braun shouts at Shane, hits the running powerslam for 3.

It's good to be wrong here, though when I predicted Shane to win it was more a Pyrrhic win like being sent through a cage wall - because the build had Braun foolishly act like cage matches never have interference. This was a match, Shane planting weapons and using Elias and Ryker to prove himself 'smart' and Braun just powers out of it, the ripping the cage wall to drag Shane back in was a good spot - if not overly convenient since Shane could've dropped and gloated after - but it didn't need to be Wrestlemania.

Bayley comes back this time to the announcers table, bullying Cole out of his seat, but she's made to look stupid since Byron of all people tell her that they're waiting for the Hall of Famers, the HOF package happens again and the inductees able to attend appear on the stage, graphics of those who couldn't on the screen, NWO get their own entrance though with the NWO-painted Big Gold belt, bit unnecessary really they have enough spotlight.

Stone Cold announces the next mania in Texas in the AT&T Stadium, Booker then joins the announcer's table.

Bad Bunny & Damian Priest def. Miz and John Morrison (Pinfall by Bad Bunny on Miz via Crossbody/Electric Chair combo) A bunch of men dressed as bunnies hop into the ring before Miz and Morrison lipsync their diss track entrance. After the promo package Damian Priest makes his entrance, wearing the HBK Bondage shirt and sporting the purple, Bad Bunny appears atop of a Monster Truck in a pre-recorded segment with a lot of camera cuts, leading into the live version, looking like Rufus from Bill and Ted.

Miz and Morrison goad Bad Bunny to start the match so Priest tags him in, Miz mocks Bunny for a free shot and gets floored with a blow, waistlock and another punch, after a brief flurry Miz slows Bunny down but then gets caught with an arm drag, a toehold and a roll up for 2. Morrison attempts to snap Miz out of his frustration, but every offense he gets Bad Bunny comes back, this time with a spinning headscissors. Morrison's tagged in but gets headbutted, a 'bunny hop' jumping elbow, Miz's cheap shot leads to some heat feeding as Miz does some mocking bunny hops. He rolls over Miz for 2 but gets flattened with a boot, Morrison punishes Bunny on the announcer's table who then does a Spinaroonie while they continue to punish Bunny and incite Priest. Bunny gets a tornado DDT to open up the Hot Tag who cleans up house with strikes - more annoying camera cuts though. Chokeslam only gets 2 because Morrison breaks the count, Bunny comes in and both men hit stereo Falcon Arrows, both for 2, Priest does a tope, Bunny crossbodies from the top corner. Priest sets up his finish but gets caught with a Skull Crushing Finale, 1, 2, Bunny breaks the pin. Back into his corner Morrison tries to keep Bunny from being tagged, but Bunny hits a Canadian Destroyer onto Morrison on the outside of the ring, Miz and Priest awestruck. Priest sets up the Electric Chair, Bunny crossbodies and that's 3.

I may not know who Bad Bunny is, or particularly like his music, but he definitely meets the standards of the work celebrity guests should put in if they wanna be booked for a match. Bad Bunny did far much more spots than Omos, granted his punches flooring Miz was a bit unbelievable but overall he shone in an entertaining match, I feel bad for Miz and Morrison really, Miz was WWE champion about a month ago for a week and Morrison left at the top of Impact and AAA to come back for this? Maybe if he pairs up with his wife he'll get the booking he deserves. Also don't really know why Booker needed to be there on the announcer's table, aside from one mock spot and a GI Bro mention he didn't influence the match at all

SD Women's Championship - Bianca BelAir def. Sasha Banks (c) (Pinfall via KOD TITLE CHANGE!) And so comes the Main Event, the Royal Rumble winner comes out a sparkly EST outfit with tassels, Sasha with a black and neon green attire that definitely stood out. More shoddy camera cutting though kinda upset the flow of the entrance.

On Pre-Show - 'These two are in the Main Event regardless of Race, Regardless of Gender' On Main Event - 'For the first time two black women are having a title match on the main event at Wrestlemania' ...poor form WWE. Especially since you followed this with a Snickers plug.

The Bell rings as there are close ups on an emotional Bianca, duelling chants from the crowd as Sasha overpowers BelAir, leading her to kip up and get her own advantage, almost landing the KOD early. BelAir's power catches most of Banks' assault so she opts for counter-wrestling, she looks to count BelAir out but then decides for a Suicide Dive, but BelAir catches her and presses her back up the stairs and into the ring. Dropkick by Sasha gets 2, Bianca hits a powerslam but her handspring moonsault is blocked by Sasha yanking at the hair, using it as leverage to drive her knee into BelAir's head, Shining Wizard only gets 2. When Banks tries the knees in the corner she's planted with an Uranage, she tries to yank Bianca's hair into the corner post but Bianca powers her into it instead, a barricade crossbody also misses but the count is up to 6, both women roll in, BelAir uses an inside cradle to momentum herself up to a Vertical Suplex position, she slingshots 2 of the sides but Banks struggles, Bianca powers her back up but Sasha struggles again, BelAir powers again and lands the suplex but it takes a lot out of her. After clotheslining Sasha who was pulling on her hair, BelAir flurries with strikes and a running shooting star, Glam Slam hits but Sasha gets the knees up for the 450. The two trade pins and BelAir hits the Powerbomb for 2, she tries again but Sasha goes for a facebuster, Double Rotation Tornado DDT gets 2 for Sasha, a clunky Frog Splash which might've been a Meteora that Bianca was out of position for hits BelAir but only has 2, Sasha starts getting frustrated and goes for the arm, snaps it against the ropes then throws BelAir into the steps, she goes for the Bank Statement, wrapping Bianca's hair around her arm for added leverage, she tries to rebound off the ropes but Bianca rolls back to rope break, Sasha yanks the hair between the rope and stomps on her hair in frustration but this gets Bianca angry, she sets up a Superplex but is thrown off, she tries what looks like a Stratusfaction but gets locked into a Tree of Woe double stomp, Bianca avoids it and the running knee strike, landing the 450! 1, 2, No! Bianca freaks out, she was so sure that was it, but now the anger sets in, KOD set up but Sasha pulls the hair to right herself, Bianca cracks Sasha with her hair and tries again, but Sasha wriggles to try a Backstabber, Bianca escapes that, spins her around and lands the KOD, 1, 2, E.S.T.

A really good match from both women, met with a great ovation for Bianca. The match liked to prey on Bianca's hair a lot which may've been a little overdone, I would've liked to have seen it get a bit more than 18 minutes too. I predicted Sasha because I think Rhea's winning hers (I still do) and Sasha has once again yet to have a major Wrestlemania win, but I'm certainly not unhappy with BelAir - she put on a great performance here, especially with the fact that she fumbled her NXT Women's Title match against Baszler earlier, showing a lot more maturity and a strong face character to get behind. WWE should not have overdid the booking on this in the build but for the night, it is Bianca's night to close day one of WrESTlemania.

Conclusion NXT Stand and Deliver set a high bar for Wrestlemania to pull off, and for Night 1 at least I believe they definitely met it. There were a few downs, shoddy camerawork, non-wrestling botching and heavy mistreatment for Naomi, Bayley and the New Day but on the other hand we had great matches out of Cesaro, Bad Bunny and the other title matches including the main event, aside from the tag turmoil I'm not upset with the winners. Becky teased us with appearing before the show but it seems like it was a fakeout, was kinda hoping she'd be back but maybe it'll be Night 2

We will only find out on the night though, and there's a lot more to look forward to.

[roxxythebirbrps]

Damien's Birthday Part 1

Charlie: *decided to hang around in Hogsmeade for a few days, taking in all the magic in the air remembering all her fun little spells and just decided to get back into the feel of the magic world. She missed it greatly, she was sitting at the desk in her motel room scribbling out a letter that really won't have to travel far but she can't just walk on campus without permission. Sealing the letter she hugs it smiling to herself and attaches it to the owl, giving it a light peck she sends it off to go to Damien directly. Flying around Hogwarts castle till it finds the right window and perches on the edge of the window and taps on the Hospital wing window with a Letter for Damien*

Damien: *just finished fixing up another wayward student wizarding battle, sighing just wondering it he was that dumb when he was young, deciding that he wasn't due to his being in Ravenclaw. After that he settled down in his office chair, rubbing his temples, trying to fight the urge to light another cigarette and failing, but as he got to the window something else caught his attention - an owl tapping at it. Confused he let the creature in, not expecting any mail from... well anybody really. The only people he could thing of was his parents and Charlie, though his parent try to avoid using wizarding mail unless necessary... so there's only really one person. And as he untied the letter, her handwriting was unmistakable to him*

Letter: Dear Damien, I decided to stay in Hogsmeade for a few days to practice my magic and take a break from my boring muggle life. Knowing you, you were already or about to start a chain smoking session while everyone else was in the Great Hall eating. Instead of doing that I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me. I'll be in the 3 broom sticks if you decide to come. Love and Kisses, Charlie~