#and even more to re-think about her whole activism career and see how much it actually makes sense

[thissmycomingofage]

That's so weird how I do not care at this point. I do not care if he cheated, I do not care if she cheated, I would even dare to say I do not care if she's happy. Because we're at a point where all that I can bring myself to care about is that she's, you know, dating a racist, antisemitic, sexist and so on and so on kind of person. She made me not care about her happiness, she made me resent her for proclaiming her happiness. She doesn't seem to care so why should I?

[poppytuft]

the bear s3 spoilers

below the cut! thinking about claire and stuff we saw this season re: carmy/syd/the restaurant/donna, just finished the season so itll be a mess and also im comin in way too hot on this so my bad

sometimes...... sometimes i believe you guys are all watching different tv. im not sure how this season didnt feel like a direct through line from s2?? and im not sure WHY everyone is SO MAD about claire LITERALLY "haunting" this season. girl. come on. we need to have a sit down talk about how the berzatto generational trauma is the real meat of this show (this will make sense, just trust me). thats the MAIN EMOTIONAL POINT. syd's relationship with her dad, marcus and his mom, richie and evie, even tina and louie are all examples of parental relationships that are tender, sweet, supportive, etc. these are INTENTIONAL!! by creating these relationships we see PLAINLY how fucked donna is and how much she fucked up all of these kids. thats why "ice chips" was such a FANTASTIC episode. there was SO MUCH unpacked, so much revealed, so much worked through with sugar and her but at the end of the day she's still learning how to unlearn all of this horrific narcissistic bullshit. SHES STILL UNLEARNING THOUGH. thats where fucking DONNA of all people sits right now——somehow, she's learning how to heal. EVERYONE IS LEARNING. that's also what is so important about that episode.

now lets look at carmy. in "ice chips" we are LITERALLY told about how each berzatto is born: mikey fighting against the idea of being alive at all, nat into a quiet, soothing room, and CARMY is fucking born into EVERYONE SCREAMING and ARGUING and FIGHTING. we are BLATANTLY told that all carmy has ever known is HELL and all he's ever known how to communicate is through exploding. this is so violently against what we also know about his personality from childhood in "fishes" (anxious growing up, arts-oriented, had a hard time making friends). now, he works a violently stressful job, processing the trauma from both his mother (and chef fields [joel mchale], realistically) through the high-stress environment.

NOW. ENTER CLAIRE.

HOW is she not fascinating to you all. we don't see her whole story (because the bear, duh) but we are given just enough pieces here to put together that her story runs parallel to carmy's. how are you not getting this. walk with me.

claire. glasses, nerdy, quiet, sweet, girl next door. family friend! cute, but considered mid for a long time by everyone at school, but suddenly the berzatto men all badger carm, "oh she got a glow up, oh shes looking for you, she wants to see you," etc etc etc. what happened in between?

she finds herself. she finds the stressful thing she LOVES, which is the hospital. her job is objectively more stressful than carmy's (illustrated by that scene earlier in the season but i forgot the episode, where claire talks about the girl who got her shit wrecked by the glass table), and while we don't have an exact understanding of what her home life was like, we understand that her and carmy both have a level of internal anxiety that thrives on the stress of their careers. HOWEVER, claire does it because she loves it. carmy just doesn't know how to stop.

this is what makes claire feel like "peace" to carmy——because her high-stress job is a choice, an active choice she is making because it fulfills her. it's not to prove her dead brother wrong, or to honor his own legacy, or to prove that dickbag boss wrong, or to leave a mark on the world, or to make her own life worthwhile, or to prove that she doesn't need anyone else. she genuinely enjoys helping people even when the days are stressful, or scary. he's obsessed with this. he wants to know how she does this. every day she leaves that stress at home——and he wants to learn how to do that too.

claire is VITAL to this season and to understanding carmy's stress——and how far back he is in his healing process. it should only become more and more apparent, as we see characters like tina (the beef/the bear became vital to her success/development as a chef AND person, both for the people AND her love of food), marcus (not hiding his grief, but using it to help rationalize how much his mother loved him and wanted to be surrounded by people that love him), and richie (finding a purpose through service/expo and understanding he can start over again) push through their own traumas and struggles to become better people. if donna can be not only present at sugar's bedside during labor, but WELCOMED at this point in the show, it makes carmy's inability to heal all the more present. claire is an important part of this puzzle: she helps us see a window into a world where carmy is balanced emotionally, but unbalanced professionally, because he has no idea how to make the two coexist.

however, the idea that he can be balanced emotionally at all is so fucking enticing——with the help of someone who experiences stress in the same way as him (and who is familiar with his familial trauma), he has the opportunity to grow up and move on from his family trauma and wounds perpetuated by the industry he works in.

on the flip side of this....... his inability to process any of this is starting to impact syd. and frankly, that's some bullshit. his lack of communication, inability to community build/trust ANYONE, and his violent stubbornness is pushing her into the same space that he was in under chef fields, in a much slower, more subtle manner, and for slightly different reasons. her panic attack at the end of the season could read in two directions to me: her stress over the responsibility of changing so many people's lives has boiled over once she remembered that the beef once was truly great (hey five star review on the fridge!), OR, she realizes how much she isn't in it for the food. fuck a Michelin star: she wants to cook with her family. chef terry says at the end of "forever", in the garage with carmy, that she's so grateful she got to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, where she wanted, with the people she wanted to do it with. sydney is so close to having those things at the bear——but carmy's dysfunction is keeping it just out of arms reach. the two of them are now on opposite sides of the approach from last season: syd dying for a star, and carmy dying to cook for the woman he loved. now, carmy is hungy for recognition again, desperate to prove something, and sydney is remembering (thanks to the conversation with other chefs during the ever funeral service) why she loved cooking in the first place. so this leaves us to wonder: should she stick it out? for the people? or make something of herself? is she carmy, or is she terry? i guess we will just have to see.

all this to say: every character is connected. the bear is a show about family, found and blood, and the choices we make for, with, and because of the people we love, for better or for worse. food is only the center of it, because it's the center of all of our lives. you can't hate claire without understanding where she sits in the web of the berzatto family. and really, you can't hate her if you understand what her presence means for carmy, for syd, and the restaurant as a whole.

[such-familiar-distance]

I've been on a full re-read since SSR ended and this paragraph just blew my brain up:

The so-called translation was actually a vicious satire of the Maecenas translation, a gruesome slow murder of the beloved as Catulla slowly drank her blood and drained all the life from her. It lingered lovingly on long, horrible stanzas of Catulla devouring the unnamed beloved. The whole thing was dedicated to Maecenas, who Marcus had always thought of as the best writer of the generation and who modeled his own writing on when he’d been young and stupid and full of ambition. By the time he finished it, late in the evening and too drunk to put it away when he should have, Marcus stared at the fire in the grate and felt ill.

I can't stop thinking about Calla/Maecenas now, and wondering what their relationship looked like. Was Maecenas more of a Marcus or a Julius? Is Calla more of a Kal or someone else? Was the annexation how Calla got away? Do you have any Calla/Maecenas scenes floating around in your mind?

Anyway, I can't begin to describe how much I love this series, so thank you eternally for writing it.

I'm so glad that you enjoy it and that you asked!! Calla and Maecenas are/were a whole hot mess of love and resentment in a different way to Kal/Marcus. For one thing they have a bigger age gap, with Maecenas (who I need to find a first name for, but I haven't settled on one yet) was in her late thirties when she bought Calla circa age 16, and Calla spent longer with Maecenas than Kal did with Marcus (almost 15 years vs Kal's 6).

I meant them to be a parallel to Kal and Marcus but in a different direction than Aurelius and Marcus uncle; Maecenas has her writing career, has a prestigious position as a literature professor, has a lot of social capital that she could potentially use to help Calla as a writer in her own right, but chose not to. Maecenas had Calla educated similar to how Marcus had Kal educated, but then used her as an unpaid editor/translation assistant/secretary.

When Calla started writing her own work Maecenas was very “that's nice dear” dismissive until Calla's work started getting publishable and then started actively undercutting her in the mode of you'll never be anything without me/your work will never be good enough/you're just imitating better work and you're never going to be original. Never physically abusive in the way Julius was, but much more actively emotionally abusive than Marcus was. Calla had so much of her personhood and self wrapped up in Maecenas’ education/approval of her from a very young age that she internalized all of that as true. She took off a little earlier than Kal but in the same year, around the time that war was looking likely rather than in the first few months like Kal did.

So Calla's still Working Through Some Shit in two different ways when Marcus vs Kal meet her; her first published work that Marcus reads is something where she's allowing herself to be angry for the first time, and Maecenas’ review that Marcus remembers reading was so devastating to her that she didn't write anything else of her own (besides the Pickwick Papers and reviews stuff she writes to support herself) until the love poetry that Marcus reads her working through in the coffeehouse section where she's working on forgiving herself for having loved someone who hurt her. (I am not subtle, Calla's two works are parallels for Kal's emotional arcs/Marcus' knowledge of Kal's emotional arcs in the two timelines lol).

I'm too deep into a Cyril thing I have in draft right now to have much thoughts about specific Calla/Maecenas scenes, but I imagine Calla sees her later in life, when Calla's closer to the age Maecenas' was and Calla builds the meeting up as this big confrontation and then it ends up being kind of anticlimactic and non-cathartic for her because Calla's mostly worked through the love/fear/resentment she had and by the time she sees Maecenas' again there's not much emotion left there for Calla, for better or worse.

I hope you enjoy your reread!!

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

///////////////////

It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie. 

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried. 

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake. 

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?” 

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered. 

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling.  “Is everything okay with you?” 

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.” 

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement. 

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke. 

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing. 

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him. 

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together. 

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of. 

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head. 

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats. 

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate  your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in . 

For what would, no doubt, be a long day. 

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the  energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes. 

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style. 

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore. 

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started. 

“Guys! It’s been a while.” 

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question. 

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit. 

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear  - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you. 

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to. 

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back. 

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you. 

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously. 

“Y/n you need to go home.” 

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed. 

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?” 

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”  

“And then lunch?” 

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy. 

“How fars the drive?” 

“At this time probably an hour and a half.” 

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down. 

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you. 

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’. 

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers. 

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point. 

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible. 

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms. 

“Wheres your team?” 

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway. 

“You sure?” 

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas. 

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you. 

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram. 

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly. 

“How you doing?” Tom asked. 

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation. 

“shit.” 

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you. 

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever. 

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“ 

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic. 

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.” 

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging. 

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-” 

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again. 

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake. 

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great. 

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin. 

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep. 

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears. 

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.” 

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

[sourholland]

Ooooh angst “what about us?” “there is no us, there never was.” with tom plssss! Really love ur work 🌸

Last Kiss || Tom Holland

Summary → After a fling you and Tom had started while filming a movie together, he tells you that you two can’t be together anymore. Once you get home, Tom let’s you know that he made a mistake.

AN → This was supposed to come out yesterday, I just got lazy and waited to edit it. I can’t tell if I like how this came out or hate it, either way, I hope you guys like this. Also in honor of the Fearless re-record!!

Pairing(s) → Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Suggestive, Alcohol Use

Prompt(s) → 38

Word Count → 1.9k

The ringing of your phone sounded through your apartment loudly, the sound of the rain pattering loudly against the windows out-looking New York City. You set down the remote, feet padding against the cold hardwood while you looked for your buzzing cellphone.

You didn’t bother glancing at the caller ID, picking it up bringing it to your ear all in one quick motion.

“Hello?” You said, pulling a wine glass down from the cabinet.

“Y/N?” Tom’s voice came through the phone.

Your heart dropped, a breath catching in your throat while you stood in your kitchen. He was across the country, wanting nothing to do with you. He repeated your name through the phone, asking if you were there.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you answered, pouring more wine than you’d originally intended into the glass.

“Isn’t it like one in the morning in England?” You asked, listening to the muffles coming through the speaker.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s late here. I just couldn’t sleep, and I started to think of you. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called.”

You sat at one of the barstools, swirling the red contents of the glass around. You wanted to yell at him, or maybe you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You sat silently for a few moments, bare legs cold from the draft.

“Tom,” you started. “I just don’t get why we have to rehash the past, you know? I came back to New York, just like you told me I should. You’re working on whatever new movie, I’m doing the same. I don’t know—I just think we should leave whatever happened between us alone. You made it very clear that it was me that you didn’t want,” you mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater.

He audibly sighed, the ruffling of sheets coming through the phone. He was probably in bed, if he wasn’t so far away you’d have asked him if this was a sad attempt at getting you to sleep with him.

“I was fucking stupid, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve said that a million times,” his voice was hoarse and tired.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Tom. I just can’t keep doing this—this thing with you.”

You both went quiet for a minute, the only sound being the noise from outside in the bustling streets of the city and the rain. You knew you should hang up, block his number and forget about anything you two ever had. You’d tried a few times, unable to bring yourself to doing it.

“What about us?” He asked lowly, a twinge of hurt in his tired voice.

“There is no us, Tom,” you replied. “I’m not even sure there ever was.”

He didn’t say anything, you wanted to let out the repressed cry and tell him you didn’t mean it. That you were sorry and that you thought about him more than you’d like to admit. Something in you knew if you didn’t do your best to cut it off, you two would continue down the same everlasting cycle.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then your home screen lit up. The call had been ended. You downed the remainder of your wine, ditching the cup and just going for the bottle. You thought about calling him back, about apologizing and booking a plane ticket like some lovesick teenager.

You opened Instagram and began scrolling through your feed of posts, liking and commenting occasionally. You weren’t anywhere near drunk, merely tipsy and heartbroken. Your finger lingered on the button to go live, wondering if you really wanted thousands of people to see you in this state.

You left the kitchen and instead propped your phone against the couch, taking a seat on the white rug of your living room. You wearily pressed the go live button, raising the bottle to your chapped lips once more. You are pathetic, you thought.

“Hey guys!” You smiled at the camera and outpouring of greetings in the comments. Within a few minutes you’d racked in a few thousand viewers. You grabbed the guitar sitting against your wall and strummed the cords lightly while it sat in your lap.

userone: you are so adorable

usertwo: can you please say hi?!!!??

userthree: it’s my birthday y/n!

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very active on social media, guys. It’s been super crazy traveling back and forth from London to New York and then having to leave again in a few weeks. And now I’m sitting on my living room floor with a bottle of wine,” you laughed. A few familiar people popped into the comments of the live, some you’ve worked with and some you’ve yet to meet in person.

florencepugh: y/n!!!

gracieabrams: might just bust out the wine just for u

“Florence, I can’t wait to see you soon!” You smiled, “Gracie, I swear it’s making everything like a hundred times better.”

userfour: i’m in love with her

userfive: y/n saving 2021???!!!

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be singing,” you flushed. You did sing, before getting into acting you’d post a lot on Instagram and TikTok. It’d always been more of a hobby, something you loved to do, but weren’t good enough to pursue.

“I’ve had a little too much to drink,” you added. “So don’t get upset if I’m a little pitchy, guys.”

usersix: if she’s pitchy i’m not sure what i am

userseven: sing taylor swift!!!

“Okay, okay!” You chuckled, scrolling through the hundreds of comments saying to play Taylor Swift. You’d only just been crying to like three of her albums a few hours before.

“How about the chorus—and maybe the bridge too, yeah, that’ll work,” you mumbled to yourself, fiddling with the strings. “Alright, guys, Last Kiss it is. I won’t bore you all with the whole thing, though. I could never do Taylor justice.”

“And I’ll go sit on the floor, wearing your clothes”

Getting involved with him was singlehandedly the most stupid decision you’ve ever made, you thought. Late nights in his flat after long nights on set, ordering in and just talking, you two would talk as if you’d known each other your whole lives. It was something about the way he’d let you wear his clothes, or the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear while you told him about whatever insignificant thing that had happened that day.

“All that I know,

I don’t know how to be something you miss”

The car ride to the airport was the worst, it was grey and cold outside. There was makeup running down your face, mascara covering your eyes generously. You’d wrapped filming a week earlier, unable to bring yourself to walk away from him.

You couldn’t tell the driver to turn you around, or could you? Tom had already made it clear that you were both in different places in your career. This wasn’t what he wanted. You weren’t what he wanted.

“I never thought we’d have our last kiss”

He had held you just a little tighter, you ran your fingers through his hair for just a second longer. The taste of each other lingering on the both of your lips. Like you knew it would be the last time he’d hold you without knowing.

His stupid smiled, the way he pulled away and ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You were almost wrapped around his finger, absolutely sickened with desire and infatuation for him.

“I never imagined we’d end like this,

Your name, forever the name on my lips”

The day you’d left to come home to New York started with a huge argument between the two of you. He’d basically just told you that you’d both known from the beginning you wouldn’t last together. It wasn’t a matter of how much you cared for one another, but that it was impossible, as he put it.

His eyes glossed over and bloodshot, you a complete and utter mess. Slamming the door behind you as you left was one of the most painful things you’d ever endured. Even more painful, the fact that he never came after you.

“So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep”

“I can feel you staring at me, love,” he murmured against the pillow.

Your face heated, eyes averting to the stream of light through the sheerness of the curtains. He leaned into you a moment later, his lips soft on your own. He was warm, he was always so warm. You cupped the side of his face gently, pulling him in a bit harder.

“And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”

You dropped your bags, stepping into your apartment after months of being away. It felt quieter than usual, desolate and empty from your being away. It was dark out, the illumination of the bright city lights from your windows.

You glanced down at your phone for a moment, not a missed call, not a text, not even a fucking notification. He’d simply told you to go home, nothing more nothing less.

“I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are,

Hope it’s nice where you are”

You’d texted Harrison a few times, regretting it almost immediately after. He was sweet, telling you that Tom would come around eventually and to just be patient. You’d relied on those kind words for some time, eventually deleting them all together.

After Tom’s first text, you’d realized he wasn’t coming around or regretting what he’d said to you. He was lonely, maybe even a bit desperate. For months you had been there to listen to him and hold him, and now you were gone.

You’d fed into it the first few times, sitting on the phone with him for hours at a time. Then you started to feel worse hearing his voice, silent sobs escaping as you’d listen to him ramble. Then your finger would linger over the decline button a little longer than usual when he’d call, until eventually you started to use it.

“And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day,

And something reminds you,

You wish you had stayed”

Once you started to go out with other guys, Tom’s ‘I miss you’ texts became more infrequent. Paparazzi would snap pictures, and the next morning they’d be plastered all over the internet.

There was no doubt he was seeing you going out with other people, watching article after article about who you were dating surface. Would he be jealous? No, you thought. Tom was probably doing the same thing as you. Hopeless hookups, meaningless blind dates.

“You can plan for a change in the weather and time”

One early morning, you found yourself in a sweatshirt you’d stolen from one of his drawers and forgotten to return. Listening to the morning rush of traffic and hugging yourself, noticing the lingering smell of his cologne.

You wondered if he knew you’d taken it, if he would think you were pathetic wearing it months after you two had broken things off. This only made you clutch yourself a little tighter, closing your eyes and trying to remember.

“But I never planned on you changing your mind”

[georgianadarcies]

I'm late but I have a feeling that a lot of rogan fans mistake Rory's "better" situation in season 7 as being a direct result of being with Logan when that isn't true in the slightest, especially when you consider that throughout almost the entire season, he wasn't even near her? He was in another continent across the ocean while Rory was dealing with the uncertainty of her future and potential career on her own.....none of that is something Logan should be considered responsible for since so many of them claim that "they made each other better" when in reality, Logan only decided at the end of the series to switch his life over because Rory told him to face the consequences for once, while Logan on the other hand......did nothing? Taking every bias aside, what /did/ Logan do for Rory that was exclusively /for/ her, and not just a random romantic gesture for their relationship? Aside from yelling at her for an article she was supposed to write or a general congratulations over a job offer, what did he do for her? We never see him tell her to go for a specific position or encourage her to shoot for something bigger or do something different re: what she wrote, when Rory was going through a crisis it was either Lorelai or her friends consoling her, so any time rogan fans go off on them "making each other better" it just feels hollow to me because they didn't even do much for each other equally, especially not when Logan would take back any "betterment" he did for them by screwing up in a later episode while Rory had to just deal with it. They don't even have one scene that resembles Jess and Rory's car ride or their scenes in Balalaikas (and no, Logan drunkenly betting with Rory that she'll go back to school as a joke while throwing her a prison themed party doesn't count, Ellen), and the funniest part is that even those Jess and Rory scenes weren't like, Pivotal or insanely big in terms of what he did, but they still matter because he explicitly gives her the ideas or confidence to do something different for herself, and it's something that has nothing to do with him or with what he wants from her. It's even the same with the revival, like rogans out here trying to steal Jess's whole one scene with Rory and being all "well Logan inspired her to write the book and encouraged her to do it!", I'm sorry, where did he sit down at the Gazette and told her to try and write a book based off of her life? Oh right, he didn't, he just tried to get her to continue living in a secluded house as his mistress under the pretense that it's actually about her book, and not about him.

YEAH NO YEAH YOU GOT IT EXACTLY RIGHT. I don’t think I can add much because you’re hitting the mark right on but god... I vehemently agree and I will add that I think logan didn’t make her better, and instead actively made her... worse? and I DO NOT mean this in an anti-rory way, in any way shape or form. that is not the point. but we SEE in season five that she compromises her values at the chance to spend more time with him (ditching movie night with marty, and the whole disaster dinner that ensued, plus her becoming the girl she didn’t want to be by just sitting around waiting for him to notice her...). not to mention that logan essentially actively encouraged her to stay out of yale... yeah, being like “oh you won’t last a month” and then not saying a word (not even about her not speaking to her mother!! not a word)... taking advantage of her living situation at the pool house to invite people over without permission and then just leaving that dutch (?) girl there. like rory’s more careless actions happen when she’s with him, mainly. he also disregards her realizations about how that life isn’t for her and just tries to get her to drink instead of actually think about it. people like to say that logan “tells her off” and “keeps her in her place” which is just... so gross I don’t even know where to begin, but that isn’t making her better. he’s just being an ass. (that argument isn’t specific to rogans, though. I’ve seen jess stans say similar things about jess and rory, but the difference is that jess and rory actively encourage each other and make each other want to be the best versions of themselves.) also, it’s not that rory “changed” logan or made him better, despite the fact that that’s what she wanted to do – which, by the way, is a crimson red flag, but that he halfheartedly changed to be able to stay with her. and then the second things got difficult, he changed back immediately and cheated on her with three women in the span of a few weeks. you also can’t use season seven as an example when rory wasn’t even herself!! they made her into a pod person and tried (and failed) to make logan the best bf ever. like this isn’t evidence if it’s writers who (a) didn’t create the characters (b) totally disregarded asp’s intentions and (c) sucked at writing...

[queen-erika-the-songful]

Did you see the 2015 Jem movie? What did you think of it?

Other than the soundtrack (which is actually full of bops) and the crazy cool costumes and makeup, it sucks. I have a whole list of reasons actually 

The directors and producers started a campaign telling fans to send video auditions for a chance to be casted in the movie, which turned out to be a lie as they had decided to cast actors from Hollywood. Additionally, in the behind-the-scenes, director Jon M. Chu lies again and says Aubrey Peeples (Jerrica/Jem) submitted an audition video for the campaign

Later they announce another video campaign, this time telling fans to submit videos about how much they loved Jem for a chance to be featured in the movie. What they didn't tell everyone is that in the final product those videos would be re-contextualized to make it seem as if they were talking about the movie version of the characters.

They needlessly padded the movie with random YouTube clips that were very out of place. I know this was part of the whole “online persona” thing that the movie attempts to talk about, but they’re actually very distracting and didn’t add much of anything.

They de-aged all of the characters to be 18 and under, when in the show everyone was in their 20′s except Kimber, who was the very youngest at 18. This was a big thing about the show because it was about strong women, not girls, in the music business that knew what they were doing. This change also came with the erasure of the Starlight Girls, both the foster program and the characters, and reducing Jerrica’s role from CEO of Starlight music to just another pop band leader.

Going off of that, Rio and Jerrica’s relationship is both better and way worse. It’s better that Rio is only a jerk for like half an hour and then he bonds with all of the girls pretty quickly (The “We Got Heart” scene) so it’s easier to root for him as a romantic interest for Jerrica. But at the same he’s the son of their manager (which by the way was also a very stupid decision) and then eventually their replacement manager, so it’s pretty inappropriate for them to start dating. Also he’s the one that names the band in the end and I hate that.

Kimber’s role was reduced to nothing more than “Jerrica’s sister” and “the keyboardist” when her character was so much more in the TV show. Kimber not only own half of the Starlight music company, but she was also the songwriter for the group, not Jerrica/Jem. She was the biggest creative contributor to the actual band and was the one that wanted music to be her full-time career, it wasn’t just “her job”, it was her life.

In addition to that, the movie keeps forgetting that she was Emmet’s daughter too, not just Jerrica!! In that stupid video message Jerrica is able to activate at the end he goes “You were my greatest achievement. Oh, and Kimber too”. I’m not even kidding, that’s how he says it!! And it sucks so much because in the show, Kimber was WAY more devastated about Emmet dying than Jerrica was, and didn't properly process her grief until season 2. Jerrica had to come to terms with their mother’s death, actually. Oh and WHERE WAS THEIR MOM IN THE MOVIE?

One more character that was completely reduced to nothing was Synergy. Now, she was VERY important in the cartoon. Not only was she a very advanced computer, capable of projecting realistic holograms, but she was also Emmet’s last gift of love for his daughters. Synergy was programed to also be a friend and guide, with bits of their mother’s personality thrown in to comfort them. In the movie its just a dumb little robot that displays clues and then a video message at the end and that’s it.

Eric Raymond is changed to Erica for...reasons? She also takes Jerrica’s earrings and locks them up instead of just telling her to take them off for no freaking reason other than to have a needless heist scene. It’s stupid and takes up precious runtime.

We get that stupid “the band breaks up” conflict in the middle of the movie when it could have been entirely avoided. All Jerrica had to say was “Hey our house is foreclosing so I need to sign this solo contract so we can get the money”. But she doesn’t!! She just waits until her first solo show when they all find out by listening in off-screen. Just..why?! Why did they do that?? And it only lasts for a few minutes, just one sad song and then maybe 3 minutes of moping and then BOOM all is forgiven!!

The whole thing with “social media” fame and “not letting corporations control you” was not executed well at all. I don’t think even the movie itself knew exactly what their lesson was supposed to be.

God I probably missed more details but it was SO BAD. 

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Forgetting

Two in a row, I appear to be on a roll ... this is not for those under 17 and nsfw :)

Sometimes, you need to forget for a little while ...

@today-in-fic

************

It was a stupid retirement gathering at the end of the day, the best way *insert sarcasm here* to end Friday, in Mulder’s opinion. It became especially fun when the assistant director who was doing the retired pointed the pair out, commenting on the Amber Lynn LaPierre case, which he called the crowning achievement in his long and lauded career with the Bureau. Thanking them for their contribution to his legacy, both nodded, smiled, said their polite thank yous while inside, wishing they were literally anywhere but there.

Then came the inevitable discussion about the case, Scully plowing ahead, dealing with most of the comments until Mulder leaned into her, mouth to ear, “I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nodding, she continued with her end of the present conversation, then two others before she realized he still wasn’t back. Excusing herself, she slipped quietly out the door. Wondering for a moment if he’d fled the building completely or just the room, she thought, then, for some unknown reason, decided to try the stairwell before heading to the basement. Opening the oft-used door at the end of the hall, a beautiful sunset greeted her as well as a lone Mulder sitting on the first step down, quietly contemplating the world while bathed in pink and purple hues.

Sitting carefully beside him, skirt causing minor issues, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

Taking an impossibly deep breath before bumping shoulders with her, “do you think, maybe, this could be one of those nights where we get drunk and forget we work together?”

She’d asked him that exact question for the first and only time roughly four months earlier and with a moment’s hesitation to calculate where the nearest liquor store was, she returned the answered he’d been hoping for, “I think it needs to be one of those nights and you’ve got that liquor store on the corner so I vote your place.”

Bumping her a second time, he stood up, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs, “I think we’ve worked long enough today.”

She stood with just a little help from his hand, tugging her skirt straight, “agreed.”

&&&&&&&&&

She picked up the Long Island, the big pre-mix bottle, third shelf, second aisle, they shopped here a little too often, then headed to Mulder’s. Beating him there by ten minutes, she had time to clear the couch and coffee table of littered papers and hamburger wrappers, empty glasses and several pairs of socks. Smiling at the socks, she then filled the table with bottles of water, the Long Island (opened, aerator insert removed for ease of swilling) and a roll of paper towel because she knew he’d be stopping for Subway and they never sent him home with napkins.

Scully then had time to contemplate the first time they’d mentioned their question out loud. She honestly didn’t want to think about the string of events that led to her request but that night had been Rum and Coke and sitting on his couch, not sure how to start anything until Mulder said something so quiet she had to turn to hear him repeat his statement.

She ran into his mouth and from there, they’d spent a chaste 87 minutes alternating between drinking, making out, water interludes sporadic, straight rum by the end, coke chaser when they remembered until the week’s worth of tension left her shoulders, muscles warm and relaxed, lips swollen, hands never traveling below her neck except to turn her at the waist for a better angle.

Heads thoroughly spinning by the time the pair pulled apart in a mutually silent agreement that it was time, Scully went in for another kiss before looking at him blurrily, enjoying their warm, humid silence which Mulder only broke to ask, “couch or bed? I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Smiling at him, she stretched, much like a cat, limbs shaking, back curving, “couch is fine.”

Logistics figured a few minutes later, both were crashed in their respective beds, soundly asleep through the remainder of the night.

Mulder made it home a minute later, returning Scully to present day, and she took the bags of food from him, carrying them to the kitchen while he shed shoes, jacket, button down, leaving him in a crew-neck white t-shirt and mismatched socks. Following her into the kitchen, he grabbed the open bottle from the coffee table as he passed. Swigging deep, he handed it to her, “premix. I appreciate you more and more every day.”

“Why take the time to make it yourself when the Captain has done it for you already?” Seeing the forlorn expression still clear on his face, she turned to look at the counter, measuring up the height before glancing back at him, “help me up here, will you? I’d like to hug you face to face for once.”

Not about to question that request, he popped her up, allowing her time to adjust her skirt before handing her the bottle, “madam.”

Two gulps later, she angled the bottle in his direction, “for the win,” then waved her fingers at him, “come here.”

Obeying, he was in her arms, as close as possibly given counter and thigh restriction from skirt. Holding her had an instant effect on his blood pressure, his psyche, his heart rate and brain function, calm washing over him the longer he touched her. Not enough for him at the moment, however, he scooted her closer to the edge of the counter, skirt hiking up further, her thighs pressing his sides. About to do something about this, Scully did it for him, mouth on his neck, lips against pulse, tongue running lightly over skin. Kissing her way up his neck, across his jaw, she found his mouth, neck twisting for best access and without thought, legs locking around him, ankle hook completing the loop.

He would not be arguing.

Staying there another minute, he decided, given the course of the evening, to take creative license and wrapping arms around her waist, picked her up, moving her to the couch without breaking contact. She snagged the bottle as he moved them past it and knowing he had to set her down because sitting down with her like this would break her ankles and nobody needed that tonight, Scully grinned as she slid to the floor, her skirt staying stuck to her upper thighs. Another three deep swallows from the bottle, she handed it to Mulder, watching his perfectly sculpted throat down five, “next time we come up for air, water break.”

“Agreed.” Sitting right down on the couch, he expected her to drop beside him but instead, she wiggled the skirt a little higher and climbed onto his lap, “last time, I had a crick in my neck. I’m not dealing with that again.”

Hands firmly on her waist, he smiled, “I like your thinking.”

Mouth immediately back on his, he managed to keep his hands to himself until the liquor began buzzing his brain, separating thought from consequence but keeping intact decorum at its most rudimentary, his hands hesitantly shifting four inches above her waist, still above her shirt until Scully pulled back, whispering into his mouth, “I don’t mind.”

He didn’t take full advantage of the situation but the simple feeling of running his hands up and down her back made him feel like he’d just won the lottery, over silk blouse, ridge of bra back, imaginary outline of existing tattoo. Another few minutes and Scully moved away, lips red, cheeks pink, eyes bright as she reached behind her, breasts jutting into Mulder’s face, looking for water. Drinking down half a bottle, she handed the rest to Mulder, “it’s getting warm in here.”

Managing to keep his eyes mostly on hers, “that okay?”

Tossing the empty water bottle behind her, she then took up the Long Island, another two deep pulls before offering it to her partner, “very good.” After he drank, she deposited it back on the table and returned like a magnet to his mouth, her hands now in and through his hair, cradling his ears, thumbs running over temples, hips sliding forward until a minute later, she stood up, “I still have most of my faculties and I’m making a request.” She wavered once as the room tilted ever so slightly, “this skirt is irritating the hell out of me. Would you mind if I take it off?”

With a grin, he fell in love withher all over again, “no, that’s fine.”

“Thanks.” Skirt hitting the floor a moment later, her blouse hung low enough not to reveal anything of interesting importance and settling back on his lap, she nodded at him, “much better.”

“I’m glad.”

This time, when she re-settled, she re-settled closer to him, his obvious arousal at the whole situation not bothering her in the slightest, unknowingly grinding once against him before commencing with their previous activities.

Liquor working its magic, Mulder decided that given she was now in her underwear on his lap, that afforded him hands on ass, which elicited a tandem ‘hhmmmm’ from both and another inch hip-slide forward. Deciding what the hell, he then moved his hands up under her shirt, finding warm skin and bumping backbone, hands callous-rough as they danced over rib and ridge. Feeling her smile, he felt her leave his lips, moving down his chin to his Adam’s Apple, mouthing it several times before following down to his shirt collar, then sitting back, putting welcome pressure on particular parts, “it is only fair that since I have no skirt, you need no shirt.”

He loved that she lost her contractions when she drank. Apostrophes went out the window for some reason, all words spoken precisely and slurry but never contracted. Sitting up immediately, he pulled the offending garment off and dropped it to the couch beside them, “sounds fair indeed.”

Another two mouthfuls of Long Island for both, her hands ran immediately over his chest, her deep breath and stuttered sigh telling him more than words ever could, fingers playing over his nipples, tongue tracing his collarbone. It was when she gripped his sides and smashed herself down on him, favorite parts aligning, that he finally let out a moaning groan, “Scully.”

Whispering in his ear, “was that good?”

“If you’re trying to kill me, yes.”

Sitting back again, she wiggled a few more times, lighter yet oddly, more intense. Quick glance at the clock across the dimly lit room, she looked down at him, his gaze filled with unmistakable adoration, “it has been over an hour, need a break?”

“I will never need a break from you.”

Reaching back, she snagged another water, drinking half again and waiting until Mulder finished it to toss it the way of the first empty. Next, more liquor went down, bottle half gone at this point before, “would you mind if I took the blouse off? This thing holds heat like you would not believe.”

Words gone, head nodded, her shirt landed on the table, sweat glistening above and below white cotton bra but before he could process more than half a reverent look, he had her face pulled back to his, hands sliding down her slowly cooling back and right past the top of her underwear, bare hands on bare ass in under a second.

She did not complain, rocking a rhythm on him that was making him see stars.

Everything was logical to them up to this point. The logic of six years and half a bottle of Long Island Ice Tea but whatever and Mulder’s next suggestion followed their logical pursuit. It took a few minutes to form the idea, then the sentence, but pulling away from her mouth, whimpering either internally or for the world to hear, he had to share it with her, “um, so as much as I am loving this, there are parts of me that are dying because they are trapped, wonderfully so but still friction-ly, and are … shit, Scully, the zipper of my pants is about to cause some damage.”

“Hell. Okay.” She stood immediately and hips still moving in some sort of fluid motion which could very well hold Mulder’s attention until the end of time, he took advantage and lifting his butt, soon was sitting there in boxers, happy for relief and unembarrassed by his obvious reaction to her.

She admired for a moment, then settled right back on him, body pressed firmly against all available Mulder.

His hands moved to her hips, moving her against him, the rhythm of his mouth getting erratic as all attention moved elsewhere. Scully was having her own amount of trouble holding focus and when his hands moved to unclasp her bra, she could have sang the Halleluiah chorus had she thought to leave his lips.

Needing a final pull of liquor before anything else, she sat back on his thighs, three mouthful going down her throat first, then Mulder took four, capping the bottle and dropping it to the floor before his mouth moved not to hers again but to her breasts, taking in his dreamt of mouthful, other hand filled with other breast as Scully shut her eyes, shifting and sliding against him, parts finally making solid contact and she stood suddenly, swaying as she shed her last piece of clothing, then demanded Mulder’s boxers with a silent outstretched hand and begging eyes. Obliging, she was back on him,  wetter than wet, rubbing hard head against aching clit, then, she slid back and forth against him, Mulder’s mouth latched back to her breast and his hands carrying her forward and back. Letting go of her, he told her, alcohol slur evident, “I am so close to that spot, Scully. Another inch and we could … just … we could.”

Leaning forward, she slipped her teeth around his earlobe, tugging lightly before sucking for a moment, then whispering, “there cannot be liquor involved when that happens. Sorry.”

There was absolutely no reason for her to apologize and he told her as such, “but can something else happen because unless you stop moving, it’s going to anyways and I’d rather have permission to do so.”

His strained voice made her grin and sitting back once again, she ran one hand down her belly and bracing with the other against his knee, she began rubbing her clit, “oh, I am good with everything else.”

Needing to ask one last time, “do you need any more Tea?”

“I have not got time for that now.” And she rubbed a little faster.

Wrapping his hand around himself, their knuckles kept bumping until they found a matched rhythm and as her muscles clenched and her head dropped back, he came as well, all over himself and her, not caring about anything in the moment but his Scully.

Then their combined mess along with the sweat generated by the last hour and a half suddenly got the better of his ass’s grip on the couch. She moved slightly, he shot forward, feet unable to catch him, and both, for a fleeting moment, wondered if there was an earthquake as they slid to the ground, Scully’s back sliding against the coffee table edge, Mulder’s bare butt landing on a crackling water bottle.

He managed to get an arm around her though, so she didn’t hit the floor at the worst angle ever and ‘sluggish but still there’ reflexes on her part had her move enough not to break his dick, softening but still hard enough to cause some trouble had it been bent sideways under her drunken weight.

Both then sat there in silence, until, of course, the giggles set in.

It took a good five minutes to get things under control and not set the other off with a simple look. Scully, now wrapped in one of Mulder’s many blankets, looked from the ¾ empty Long Island bottle to the water in her hand, “can I stay here tonight?”

Also in a blanket, and equally worried about the amount they’d consumed, he opened two more bottles of water for them, the world beginning to tilt again, “like I’d let you drive anywhere after that much Captain.”

Looking over at him, grin wide as she missed her mouth with the water bottle on the first try but making it the second, she swallowed half before speaking, “for a minute there, I actually did forget we worked together.”

“Me, too.”

Shifting up to give him a kiss on the cheek, she swayed into him, forgetting how to sit back upright momentarily, “now, if you would be so kind as to find me a pillow and another blanket, I am going to go clean up, then come back here and go to bed because if I do not lay down very soon, I am going to tip over even more than I am now.”

Contractions still gone, he knew she wasn’t kidding about the tipping thing, the alcohol coursing through her veins would have her asleep in seconds and sporting one hell of a headache tomorrow. Carefully standing, he got her up and to the bathroom, blanket firmly in place and then, collecting some pajama pants and a t-shirt for her, he handed them through the partially open door, ignoring the sounds of her peeing, then the water running.

Seriously, how many times could he fall in love in one evening?

Soon, she was back, curled on the couch, Oscar the Grouch shirt in place, blankets piled high, head deep in down pillow. Beckoning him to her level with her finger, he had to kneel, knowing if he leaned, he’d fall, “what’s up?”

“I love you, Mulder. You are my best friend and I love you.”

Kissing her forehead, he struggled to stand back up, “I love you and you are my best friend, too.” Pointing to the table, “I left you an empty pot so if you puke, do it in that, please, all right?”

“Do not forget one for yourself.”

Holding up his own, “got it. G’night.”

She was already asleep.

He would dream well tonight.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Since the curtains and blinds were closed, the light didn’t wake either of them until late afternoon. Scully was up before Mulder and after downing several glasses of water and what felt like a handful of aspirin, she opened her forgotten Subway, settling with it on the couch, remote in hand.

Mulde wandered out a few minutes later and stared at her for a moment, then retrieved his sandwich as well, grabbing the bottle of aspirin before sitting down beside her, tugging half her blanket over his knees, “hi.”

“Hi.”

“What are we watching?”

“The Flintstones.”

Giving her wild hair and dark hickey on her neck a good, long look, he aimed a grin at her, “mind if I join you?”

Taking in a matching bruise on Mulder’s neck and his dancing eyes, “your couch.”

Settling in a little better, he unwrapped his roast beef on white, “so, honest answer, please. Should we be embarrassed or anything about last night?”

Scully thought while she chewed, then smiling crookedly, “the only thing I’m embarrassed about is having ended up on the floor.” Looking at him critically, “what about you? Honest answer.”

“Mostly I’m unnerved by how much my ass was sweating, in all seriousness.” Taking his first bite, he felt calmer than he had in forever, “want to stay over again tonight?”

“Sure. I hadn’t planned on leaving this couch until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Mexican for dinner?”

“As long as they deliver.”

“They do.”

Mid-chew, she leaned over and kissed his t-shirted shoulder, “yay.”

[letterboxd]

In Focus: The Truman Show.

Inspired by Letterboxd data that revealed it to be a lockdown favorite, editor-at-large Dominic Corry looks at the ever-evolving importance of contemporary masterpiece The Truman Show.

It has long been apparent that The Truman Show is an unnervingly prescient film. The story of a man who becomes aware that his superficially idyllic life is, in fact, a live-streamed television show has gone from being high-concept to every-day.

Thanks to the three Ps—the prevalence of mass urban surveillance, the proliferation of reality television and the pervasiveness of video in social media—the notion of cameras filming our every move is no longer a paranoid fantasy, but real life. The twist being that, for the most part, we all willingly signed up for it, and did all the filming ourselves. As Yi Jian saliently observes in his review: “Not to get all ‘we live in a society’ on Letterboxd but I know a person or two in real life that would actually give anything to trade lives with Truman, it do be like that sometimes”. It indeed do, Yi Jian.

So it’s something of a cliché at this stage to point out how we are all living in some version of the The Truman Show, and you don’t have to be a member of the royal family to feel that way. Yet, somehow, the film has become even more pertinent over the last eighteen months. And it’s a pertinence reflected in the massive uptick in viewership for the film as seen in Letterboxd activity.

During the month of February 2020, the last moment of the Before Times, The Truman Show had a modest 1,235 diary entries. That number tripled in April of that year, by which time the seriousness of the pandemic had become clear. And by July, deep in the worst of the pandemic, Truman fervor peaked, with a further 178 percent leap over April’s numbers, firmly placing it in the top 200 films watched by our members in a year of lockdown. (By the way, ‘diary entries’ mean activity where the member has added a watched date; many thousands more also marked Truman as ‘watched’ in those dark months, but didn’t specify a date.)

It’s not difficult to imagine why we might become more interested in revisiting this eminently re-visitable film. During lockdown, social media—including Letterboxd—took on a greater presence in terms of how we communicated with each other. We got used to seeing footage of faces more than actual faces. We were all the stars of our own ‘Truman Show’, and simultaneously the audience of everyone else’s ‘Truman Show’.

Christian Torres boiled it down effectively when he wrote: “Now every movie I see seems to be related to my life in quarantine. I am Truman and I want to escape.” And Sonya Sandra eloquently captured the film’s increased contemporary significance in her review: “This is a real-life daylight horror film. The best kind. Even more relevant in 2021 than ever. We are all Truman, we all want to find what is real in our fake lives filled with media, capitalism and ideology. And it’s our job to fight the storm and get to the truth of it all. Nothing is real, everything is for profit, and everyone is selfish. Go out and find what is real, because it’s definitely not here.”

With its deft, dazzling blending of the profound and the humorous, the optimistic and the cynical, it’s difficult to think of anything released since The Truman Show that comes as close as it does to being a modern-day Frank Capra movie. It’s hopeful, but has its eyes wide open. There’s a darkness in the themes of the film that is never replicated in the colors on display.

While everyone involved delivers career-best work, we must principally credit the triumvirate of talent at the center of the film: director Peter Weir, screenwriter Andrew Niccol and star Jim Carrey.

Star Jim Carrey and director Peter Weir on the set of ‘The Truman Show’ (1998).

Weir is a director who inspires much online love whenever his name is mentioned, but he isn’t really mentioned all that often. Or at least as often as he should be. The Australian filmmaker has delivered masterpieces across multiple genres, and it’s extremely sad that he hasn’t directed a movie since 2010’s not-quite-true World War II drama The Way Back, arguably one of his lesser works. That’s also, insanely, one of only two movies he’s made since Truman, the other being Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, the wide and rabid affection for which regularly kicks up on Twitter (not to mention demand for a sequel).

Weir doesn’t do many interviews, and while this 2018 Vanity Fair article marking Truman’s twentieth anniversary has many quotes about the film’s modern relevance, Weir doesn’t offer any commentary to that effect, presumably preferring to let the work speak for itself—though in this 1998 interview he did talk about the relationship between the media, the general public and the people we become fascinated with, as a “complex situation”.

The Vanity Fair article does, however, reveal a fascinating ‘what if’ scenario relating to Christof, the god-like director of the in-movie TV show played by Ed Harris, who offers up a pile of pretentious auteur clichés: mononymous, beret, etc. (beyond the whole god thing, that is). When Dennis Hopper, originally cast in the role, wasn’t working out, Weir considered playing the role himself, which would’ve added yet another meta layer. It brings to mind how George Miller styled Immortan Joe (played by Hugh Keays-Byrne) after himself in Mad Max: Fury Road, or how Christopher Nolan’s haircut shows up in most of his films.

Ed Harris as Christof in ‘The Truman Show’ (1998).

And, at one point, it could have gone mega-meta. Weir, in the 1998 interview, talked about a “crazy idea” he had, a technical impossibility back then but easily achievable with live-streaming now. “I would have loved to have had a video camera installed in every theater the film was to be seen [in]. At one point, the projectionist would … cut to the viewers in the cinema and then back to the movie. But I thought it was best to leave that idea untested.” Imagine.

Weir also played a role in helping to shape the originally much more overtly dark screenplay into the cheerier (on the surface at least) shooting script, which is solely credited to fellow antipodean, New Zealand-born Niccol, also a producer on the film. Both men have done the majority of their work in America, but it’s tempting to credit the film’s tone-perfect sense of heightened Americana to the degree of separation offered by their foreign provenance. In any case, it’s clear that open-air mall designers were paying attention.

Niccol’s original screenplay made his name in Hollywood, and revealed a storyteller excited by big ideas. He moved into directing with the smaller-scale Gattaca, released a year prior to Truman (itself delayed to meet Carrey’s availability). Niccol’s subsequent filmography includes several legit bangers (Lord of War hive step up!), and his endearing dedication to lofty allegories in a genre setting makes him an increasingly rare breed in Hollywood.

Like Weir, he is not the greatest fan of giving interviews, but the Vanity Fair piece quotes him making an interesting point: “When you know there is a camera, there is no reality,” thereby making Truman “the only genuine reality star.”

It’s a sentiment echoed by MusicMoviesMe, who writes that “‘Truman Show’ beats all other reality shows out there like Bachelors, Survivors and Kardashians. Come on, when you know there’s a camera at your tail, there’s no reality. So yes, Truman beats all reality shows out there bar none!”

The role was perfectly suited to Jim Carrey’s affected mannerisms, and his status as one of the world’s biggest stars meant he could relate to Truman more than most people. Then, at least. Nowadays, of course, we are all Truman.

“It is always incredible to see how far The Truman Show was ahead of [its] time,” observes The Closer79. “In a world where celebs are monitored 24/7 and we are showered with unnecessary private information on the web, where talent-free wannabes become famous and where you sometimes [wonder] what kind of surreal show society you are in—Truman and his fake show life cleverly have anticipated all of this. Only Truman knew nothing of his luck and he was granted an escape from his glass prison. We don’t really have this possibility… Aren’t we all Truman? Sometimes even voluntarily…”

Austin Burke concurs: “I have always known that I really enjoyed this film, but I had no clue that it would hold up so well years later… Could this be because the strange world that he finds himself in is far more similar to our world today? Possibly, but the idea and themes are so much more relevant now compared to when this originally released.” And while DallasFrance is conscious of piling on about the film’s prescience, his review highlights how there really is no limit to the film’s meta qualities:

“Instead of writing a review about how this film predicted social media, or how we’re all Truman, or yadda yadda yadda, I’ll instead fixate on the miraculous fact that two absolute legends were cast as primary viewers of the Truman Show:

1. The old lady from The Running Man who starts betting on Ben Richards (Arnold Schwarzenegger). ‘He’s one bad motherf*cker!’

2. The villain from The Karate Kid Part II:

‘Live or die, man?!’ ‘Die!’ ‘Wrong!’ *hooooonnnkkk*

I’ve never seen either of these actors in any other roles. With the second one, I felt like I was watching a character from my childhood watch a character from his childhood come to realizations about the characters in his childhood. So actually… the movie’s really about me.”

Never change, LB membership.

We are all generally pretty aware of how ahead of its time The Truman Show was, but that doesn’t lessen its impact. Maddie’s review shows that there’s always some new angle to consider: “Imagine being an extra in this movie… You would be an extra, playing an actor, playing an extra. Think about that long enough and tell me that doesn’t make you want to walk into the ocean.”

Kev goes even further: “Watching other people watch somebody else while also watching that person while also watching the person watching over that person is a great reminder that watching is weird, and to be watched is to not own yourself. Don’t watch, don’t try to be watched. Just live.”

Or perhaps Will encapsulates the film’s ability to present an ever-evolving message best, writing that, “clearly, this is video proof that we live in a simulation.” Beyond mere prescience, The Truman Show is a telling mirror to whatever era it is viewed in. Its message will continue to evolve.

Now that we’re finally (touch wood) emerging from the pandemic, it will be fascinating to see what The Truman Show has to say about its audience and the world they live in, in years to come. Rest assured, it will be well-documented by you, the Letterboxd audience.

Also: can Peter Weir please make another movie? Like, seriously.

Related content

A Meta-Reality: Robert’s list of layers of film in life and life in film

Follow Dom on Letterboxd

[riverdale-retread]

 Riverdale S4 E 11

- Jughead knows Bret has the hots for him:  He mentions Bret in the same breath as thank god immediately post coitus, and then says he does it to get Betty ‘all wound up’ while looking incredibly smug.  This is the last day Jughead is happy, by the way. So I want to bask in it.  Betty has noticed too, that Jughead is happier than he’s ever been his whole life, that he’s never smiled this much. Well Betty can’t let Jughead have that, can she? 

- Jughead is a list maker, so he starts listing all the reasons that he’s very happy, in sequential order, and the last thing is Yale acceptance.  As soon as he does the DOOM boom happens because Jughead knows that Betty will never forgive him if he goes to Yale.  He actually shuts his eyes in terror.  Bughead is a terrible relationship and actively abusive to Jughead. Was there no other way to create drama with these two attractive young people than this??

- Betty makes a face like she swallowed a bug (you see what I did there?) but does say the ‘correct’ things about congratulating him. However, this is her Perfect Girl Next Door brainwashing kicking into automatic drive. 

- On her way out after this discussion, she runs into Bret who has been politely waiting for them to be done (and thinking about Jughead), and then Bret says Jughead will get all the girls when they get to Yale together.   Nobody has ever said out loud that they think Jughead is generally desirable, other than Bret.

-   Performance note - Bret, after singsonging ‘If Riverdale makes it that far! [in the Quiz Show finals]’ does this terrific head-cock to the side and then swings his entire skull on its stem to sweep into the room that he sleeps in with Jughead. This is just apex Gay Boy Who Wants To Take Your Man and I am here for it

- Baxter Brothers Co (or whatever they are, LLC?)  want Jughead to write a whole new story. Boy in the River was too ‘soft’ and the Baxter Bros Team want something ‘darker’ in the form of serial killers.  The first time I encountered this I  laughed because it tickled me that the show was being so self-aware and meta but now I think it seems defensive.  The first season of Riverdale, the Boy in the River story, launched or re-launched people’s careers, got critical praise, made the show a phenomenon, and even among people who say they stopped watching, they hate the show, etc gets grudging respect.  I think the Writers Room is being defensive.

- Jughead seeks help from Charles, and says he couldn’t possibly use Black Hood as material. 

- Never Work for a Family Business, Part 1:  Mary Andrews is entirely absent while Archie makes it really clear why nobody should ever work for a family business.   Tom Keller has to be told by an 18 year old that he has been replaced by Uncle Fucking Frank with “It happened fast’” i.e. I decided it this morning.

- Is it because he got into Yale and you didn’t? asks Charles when Betty asks him to use FBI resources to psychologically terrorize Bret. Betty is a shitty person, same as Bret, and I wish there were nicer people for Jughead to be in relationships with (I AM COUNTING ON YOU S5 TABITHA, PLEASE?).   The girls of Riverdale move up to the Finals!

- The Brown Hood is a million dollar idea. The Baxter Brothers corner Jughead. He realizes that that’s what has happened when he gives his panicked, faltering presentation.  Jughead is a smart boy so he has a full 20 seconds of silence where he digests what he’s being asked to do - to use the Black Hood story - and then decides to “seize the opportunity” just like his highly problematic Grandpa Jones told him to.  This is also an unconscious act of aggression against Betty.  Bughead is a shit relationship.

- Never Work for a Family Business, Part 2:  Uncle Fucking Frank doesn’t want to actually work as a construction worker any more than Archie does, so he takes everyone off site to drink beer and waste time, while Tom Keller is trying to figure out how to get people paid.  Archie looks glowingly at Uncle Fucking Frank like Oh it’s so nice to have an older man in the house, allegedly because he misses his dad, but I wonder if Archie just hates his mom. Archie just wants to be surrounded by men all the time.

- Cheryl and Veronica rumblock Hiram (Cheryl’s portmanteau, of course).  Veronica is so smart - she gets a chemist to analyze her Rum, and then hired some sort of lawyer to register the patent.

-  Betty Cooper is a privileged kid who also doesn’t know how the world works:  Betty bursts in and accuses Bret of being a filthy cheater that ‘bought’ his way into Stonewall and then bought  his way into Yale.  Why does nobody in this universe know how Legacy Admissions work and how Donation Admissions work at Ivy Leagues and Prep Schools?  Also isn’t Stonewall a place you get into by paying?? The thing is, it comes out later that Bret isn’t the dip kid, so doesn’t it say that in the file Charles put together??  This is just Betty channeling her aggression towards Bret, and Bret knows this and turns the arrow directly on Jughead.   

-   Veronica is switching her business to be a dance club and a cover for the maple rum business, and Cheryl is her partner.   Veronica of course has to have a party where she dances joyfully with a female ‘friend.’ Yup.

- Why does every date I go on have to get super weird?  Kevin rejects Fangs’ overture and apology, and walks directly into a gay for money gig that he initially thinks is a date. I don’t understand why he’s not more upset by this turn of events, or the fact that the scene partner is waiting downstairs.  I would be terrified.  The only thing that makes this whimsical and funny is the actor’s performance.   By the way, Daryl is a tall muscular handsome man.  Kevin is a tall muscular handsome man.  they’re meant to be opposites and I don’t get that either.  Daryl cracks his knuckles! to do tickling and Kevin makes $5K.

- Jughead and Betty have their fight.  Betty points out one real problem, that he tried to exploit her family tragedy for a YA novel without telling her.   Then she gives into the serious jealousy she’s been experiencing against Jughead, and says he was lying by omission about Quill & Skull and Yale.  Actually, he was protecting himself from her abuse by not telling her. It is curious that even after this markedly negative reaction,  Jughead maintains a  willingness to use the facts of people he knows to make fiction as an adult.  (My pet theory is that he shouldn’t be a novelist, he’s a nonfiction writer).

- Only reason you got accepted to Yale was because you got accepted to this stupid school, says Betty.  To which Jughead answers,  You think I don’t deserve to go to Yale?

- Never Work For a Family Business, Part 3:  Hiram Lodge is the only game in town for construction, and because of Archie’s personal history with Hiram, he refuses the work and then decides to keep it secret from his crew, whose livelihoods depend on this work.  People need to feed their families. WTF>

- Charles says Betty didn’t get into Yale because she is the daughter of the Black Hood.  I have a lot of problems with this.   It’s bad storytelling. If it’s true, then nothing Betty ever does is her fault.  Further, it makes her absolutely monstrous, because the only reason she’s able to forgive (??) Jughead for getting into Yale is because she can stay confirmed in her mind that she is superior to him.

- Jughead says to Bret, I thought you were supposed to be watching my back, not stabbing it.  Oh Jughead and his tendency to believe a creed wholesale.  He really thought that Quill & Skull meant something.  Jughead so wants to belong, and he wanted to belong to Quill & Skull.   Of course Bret is pleased as punch that Bughead are fighting, so he is now comfortable touching Jughead, giving him a manly pat on the shoulder.

- Betty destroys her Dad’s gravestone, because her future is ruined because she didn’t get into Yale.  Girl what.   Alice feels really happy now that Betty has had something ruined for her by Hal, so she holds Betty and kisses her cheek and smiles at her, after having an off-screen conversation with Charles about it. Are we sure any of that was true, about WHY Betty didn’t get into Yale? 

-  Never Work For a Family Business, Part 4:  Uncle Fucking Frank keeps forcing the guys to socialize with him, but not paying them, and this crew has to talk to a really dumb 18 year old to point out that people need to get paid.

- Jughead says:  I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.  But Betty never called you, when she found out.  What she did was run from Jughead after their fight about the Brown Hood and Yale, and then completely ghosted him.  So then Jughead came running, because in this relationship he is always wrong, and he found out upon arrival from Alice what has happened, or at least, what Charles says has happened, with her Yale admissions. Betty didn’t need you, Jughead. Sorry.

- Betty says, You deserve Yale, Jug.  Except she can’t look at him when she says it.  And I suspect she’s only capable of saying this now because she knows (or thinks she knows) that it’s because of her Dad and not, simply, Jughead being a better candidate for admission than she is. 

- Jughead says that Betty has the Quiz Show win in the bag, so what they’re going to turn their attention to is the ‘other bigger game that we’re playing.’ What is the “other bigger game” that they’re playing, by the way? To be Bughead forever?  To attend Yale together?  I have no idea what they’re talking about.

- Hiram comes by to apply a sledgehammer to destroy Maple Rum.   Both Josie and Veronica have fathers who directly complete with them. Instead of seeing it as their child is following in their footsteps, both pere Josie & Hiram decide that they need to WIN against their female child   And do things in the most brutal way possible.  This is a very accurate representation of misogynist fathers.   And Cheryl knows all about that, so she’s not paralyzed by this assault.

-  You’ll be put at the top of the list. Veronica and Cheryl have wonderful chemistry, and Veronica’s resourcefulness is really rubbing off on Cheryl.  When they come upon any difficulty, Cheryl comes up with a solution. This must be so nice for Veronica, because she’s usually the one that has to do the hard carrying. These two running a business together is as happy as I’ve been watching this series since the whole shit with YALE began.

- She’s a killer!  -  So is your father. So is Betty’s father.  How can you not worship Cheryl. She brings in Penelope, who has been trapped in the bunker this whole time.  I really have to know - HOW IS THE BUNKER RENTAL RUN?   I know Penelope is on the run from the law for the murder of Hal Cooper, but is that really the only reason she can’t leave?  This the first time Penelope calls Cheryl Nightmare Child, and she’s brought into help Cheryl’s business. 

- Never Work For a Family Business, Part 5:  Uncle Fucking Frank borrows money against his salary without telling anyone about it.  Because that’s how borrowing works. Tom Keller puts his foot down and calls Uncle Fucking Frank a Piece of Shit and watching him competently fight back against Frank’s first punch was cathartic.  He quits, because according to Riverdale, nobody should ever work for Archie Andrews.

- Never Work For a Family Business, Part 6: I’m a 40 year old man, Archie! This is not the time for Uncle Fucking Frank to be giving his Rambo speech (in First Blood, Rambo screams this:  I was operating million dollar equipment and now I can’t even get a job parking cars!)  Frank’s a classic grifter.  He admits to one thing and then tries to play gotcha with some excuse he thinks is plausible, and then plays the victim (Think the worst of me, everyone else does!).

- The Yale recruiter is dragged by the hand to meet Betty at the Quiz Show finals.  He accurately says of Jughead, to Betty, He’s your biggest cheerleader. And Betty says, And I’m his too. 

No you’re not.  

According to everything we’ve been shown so far, Betty would never have shared a special connection to her Yale recruiter if she’d had one with Jughead. She just would not have, because she would’ve thought the world was operating correctly. 

-  Alice wants to make sure that Betty absolutely doesn’t get to Yale, so she sets her up with that cheat sheet at the trivia game.  Alice is very consistent. She doesn’t want Betty to go away for college, at all, and is willing to commit career suicide to achieve this end. 

-  Jughead is wearing an interesting variation on his  Amish steampunk outfit, with the button down and suspenders with dress pants.  He now wears some sort of undershirt with a scooped neck, and opens the dress shirt down to the navel. He started doing this at the party that Veronica as Monica crashed for the football game , and now he’s added that sherpa collar jeans jacket to this ensemble.  

- Jughead and Alice interact, with no dialogue, and act like they just don’t see each other when they can.  The two of them put on a show for the Yale recruiter, first.  Jughead touches her shoulder as she’s pretending to be shocked that her girl is doing so well.  

- Uncle Fucking Frank did not win that wad of money at the races. Nope. I don’t believe you. I think he extorted it through torture and violence. 

- Betty gets a slowmo walk after she wins! Except ... how you did it is a grave problem.   And Alice is pleased as punch.   I saw how hard you studied, you earned that trophy.  These cannibal parents of Riverdale are very terrifying people.   Betty is suspended  and the face that Alice makes to me reads like someone biting their cheek to keep from smiling. 

- Kevin brings Fangs into the tickle porn business.  

-  Never Work For a Family Business, Part 7:  Tom Keller agrees with me and bids Archie adios. He’s a gentleman, and says Archie is ‘too trusting’, which is a lie. Archie is stupid. 

- Penelope is in a spooky mask working at the news speakeasy.

- Jughead challenges Bret to a duel, and says he’s serious as a shot to heart (Jughead so totally knows Bret has the hots for him).  What exactly is Jughead mad about?  Why isn’t he hollering at Alice? Why take this outon Bret? Because Bret is right - SHE DID THIS TO HERSELF.  I mean, what Jughead says to Bret may also be true:  pathological lunatic, a joke and a coward.  But  aren’t these the behaviors of a person in absolute unrequited love?   Poor Bret: When you say things like that Forsythe it really upsets me. 

Four weeks later~

- So Betty is doing some sort of role playing theater acting game by herself,  weeping, and then says Jug won’t ever come back and I don’t know how I”m supposed to keep going, and Archie and Betty hold hands and ... this is them playing a sex game, because they both know that Jughead is in the bunker.

[booksnmore]

Chapter One

Series Summary || In the cutthroat world of mergers and acquisitions, Feyre Archeron has to try and keep her head when caught between duty and a man that might have stolen her heart. (Modern Day ACOTAR AU)

Chapter Summary || After career-altering news at work, Feyre visits her favorite bar and finds someone to distract her for the night.

Word Count || 5348

A/N || Mature themes that are not appropriate for readers under the age of 18. Includes graphic depictions of sex. Reader beware. 18+

Tagged Crew: @highqueenofelfhame

Feyre tossed her keys in the bowl to the left of the front door and kicked off her shoes, one too-tall heel after the other, grinning slightly at the satisfying ‘thunk’ they made as they collided with the wall. She bent over and rubbed at the red lines pressed into her feet from the uncomfortable footwear all day, and cursed, not for the first time, the strict dress code enforced at her job. 

“Women should wear appropriate skirts and shoes,” she muttered as she padded down the hallway into the kitchen, making it clear what she thought of their ‘appropriate’ standards. The apartment was quiet, her cat napping on the couch not bothering to wake up and greet her. 

“Hello to you too, Jiji,” she said, ruffling the black cat’s fur as she walked past and ignoring his indignant ‘mrr?” of protest. She pulled the pins out of her hair as she walked past the coffee pot and pulled out a bag of tea, groaning as her long, strawberry-blonde hair tumbled free of its tight constraints. 

Flicking on the T.V. while her kettle came to a boil, she absently thumbed through the channels, ignoring the doom and gloom the news was preaching, and settled on an old re-run of Golden Girls. Ah, she could always rely on Dorothy to tell it how it was. The kettle kicked off, and she poured the water over her teabag, inhaling the bite of the black tea as it steeped. 

Her phone pinged from the couch where she’d set it, so with tea in one hand and remote in the other, she walked over to see what it was. If Lucien thought he could text her after hours and ask her to do more work off the clock, she was tempted to tell him where he could shove his brief. It was hard to believe that her drunken 3am application to the agrochemical company as a paralegal had panned out at all. After all, she’d been a recent grad with only her stellar 4.0 GPA and a few semesters of volunteer work at a local tax office for low income residents to commend her to the position. The HR lady had claimed that she was just the fresh perspective the company needed, and being naive enough to trust this, Feyre’d jumped at the chance to move to California. After all, she knew she was just one face among thousands, looking for a job. The salary they paid was enough for her to just manage to afford an apartment all to herself, if she ignored that some walk-in closets were bigger than the whole place.

She swiped open the message on her phone and, sure enough, it was a message from Lucien, the corporate lawyer she worked under. It wasn’t that he was a bad guy, not entirely. He was easy-going and gave Feyre opportunities to learn first-hand, and never pushed his workload onto her like she knew some of the other lawyers for the company did with their paralegals. He was interesting to look at; not necessarily conventionally attractive, not with the glass eye and scar down his cheek, or the perpetual frown he seemed to wear around their boss Tamlin, but something about him drew the eye in a way a model’s perfect proportions couldn’t. They had an easy-going enough relationship, and though they were friendly with each other he was always careful to keep things professional, and she never felt weird or creeped out around him. Not the way she felt around Tamlin.

The son of the CEO, and a chairman in his own right, Tamlin seemed to have a special affection for Feyre, and tended to offer her and Lucien workloads that were more interesting, or easier, and laved attention on her at work to the annoyance of her coworkers. She didn’t return the feelings, but how would she ever say that to her boss? So she smiled, and gritted her teeth, and bore the condescending little comments about how cute she was that day, how that skirt made her look luscious, how that blouse really did need something under it, as he could see her bra quite clearly, though it didn’t bother him. 

No,  those inappropriate comments were just made for the betterment of the company. If she wore that skirt that clung to her hips when they met with the judge, he was sure the court would rule in their favor. If she just smiled more, the judge would be a little more lenient. She tried to ignore the way she could feel his eyes crawling over her, or the way his brow would pucker when she wore a top buttoned all the way up. The only good thing about their relationship was that they rarely met in person. Lucien was aware of it, and did his best to help, in his own way. He and Tamlin apparently went way back to Yale together, but despite that he tried to field any in-person meetings with Tamlin that he could, and seemed to always have something for Feyre to be doing out of the office when Tamlin would drop by. She was silently grateful, not wanting to say anything and risk disturbing the fragile peace they’d found.

She read the brief message, eyes narrowing. Come into the office now. We have a problem. Though he was only a few years older than her, he texted like an old man, she thought with a small grin, then groaned loudly at the thought of shoving her feet back into her shoes after just freeing them. Since Tamlin required them to turn read receipts on for the company chat, he knew she’d seen his message and would expect her soon. Glancing ruefully at her tea, she stood up and slipped on her favorite pair of flats. She would just ignore the snide comments about how her shoes just weren’t professional enough. If he wanted her in overtime, she’d wear what she damn well pleased. 

“Guess I’ll see you later, Jiji,” she said, kissing the cat’s head despite his grumpy yawn. “Hold down the fort for me, won’t you?” The traffic was terrible - she’d only just gotten home in a cab after a 45 minute commute spent almost entirely sitting still. Paying for an extra cab wasn’t in the budget, and she suspected that Tamlin would want her in sooner than that anyway, so she pulled on a jacket and grabbed her purse. It was only ten blocks or so; she’d walk.

The streets were overrun with people, but at least with them she could slip past, using her smaller frame to get through where others couldn’t. She hated the way people would look down on her, using her height as a way to intimidate her, but decided in that instance that it was for the best. Autumn was in full swing, and the brisk nip of the breeze was turning to a more biting cold. Tugging her jacket more tightly against her, she almost regretted her decision to walk. However, when the looming office building stood just ahead and she looked down at her watch, she knew she’d made the right choice. Closer to 15 minutes than 45, and she did feel less sleepy after the walk.

Pushing the doors open, she waved at Jackson sitting behind the security desk, and the gray-headed man gave her a sympathetic look back. “He’s in a fine mood tonight, Ms. Archeron,” he warned, knocking his head towards the upstairs offices. “Best to just nod and get back to your beau at home.” 

No matter what Feyre told Jackson, he was convinced she must have a boyfriend, and had dreamed up the fantasy that she was engaged and totally in love, and had a dog and two cats. All she had to say was that the old man had too much time on his hands, and a far too active imagination. 

“Thanks for the heads up, Jackson,” she said, hitting the button for the elevator doors and taking that moment to compose herself. She knew her cheeks were flushed from the walk and the wind, so she instead used the reflection of the elevator doors to try and fix her windblown hair into something resembling a bun. She only had her emergency hair tie and none of the bobby pins required to keep the stray curls around her face from springing loose, so she did what she could before the doors dinged, then pressed the button that would deliver her to whatever Tamlin had needed her for so desperately that night.

When she stepped off the elevators, she knew something was very wrong. It wasn’t just Tamlin and Lucien that were gathered around the large table in their conference room. Standing beside them was Aamon Verne, Tamlin’s father and CEO of Viridis Agrochemicals, and Nikoli Hybern, the Chief Strategy Officer. The three men together were never a good omen. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she walked up and rapped sharply on the glass door. There, in the chairs towards the back, next to Lucien, sat Nuala and Cerridwen, her two fellow paralegals, who offered her a look that was both encouraging and warning.

“Yes, come in girl,” said the elder Verne with a sweep of his hand. Despite his age, he still looked every bit the powerful man he was in his youth. Aamon Verne was a name that was both respected and feared in the industry, though Feyre had more loathing than respect for the man. He saw those around him only as tools for his use, and she’d heard him and Tamlin speaking about Nuala and Cerridwen while at lunch once in a way that made her skin crawl. 

Still, he was her boss and she dipped her head briefly at both him and Nikoli, resolutally ignoring Tamlin as much as possible. All three of the men had deep-set frowns, and only paused in their argument long enough for Tamlin to wave her over and push a stack of papers into her hand that seemed identical to what Nuala and Ceridwen were holding. He waved her away carelessly and she took a seat next to her co-workers, thumbing through the papers even as her ears revealed what was happening. 

“Who does this Rhysand think he is?” thundered Aamon, though no one was dumb enough to answer. “Buying out our shareholders, and our company out from under us? I knew this would happen if we went public. It was bound to happen eventually.” Nikoli didn’t look perturbed by his boss’ behavior. Only Tamlin of the three had turned a shade paler, though in his defence his face showed nothing of his emotion. 

“We could still reach out to the shareholders,” began Tamlin, but his father quickly cut him off. 

“And what? Beg them for our jobs? They aren’t fools. They knew we would throw everything we have at them the moment we found out.” Sneering at his son, Aamon turned to Lucien who stoically met his gaze. “Take your people and figure something out. Find us a way out of this, and I’ll give you double your wages as a Christmas bonus.” The unspoken threat was clear: if you don’t, none of us will have a job. 

Feyre’s head was spinning. A hostile takeover? Of their company? Feyre quickly went over the figures in their head. Since they were a publicly held company, they had thousands of shareholders, but not nearly enough that a tender offer wouldn’t work. She thumbed through the brief she’d been handed and, sure enough, Caeles Enterprises had offered to buy out their shareholders with a tender bid high above the price of the stock itself. It seemed the enough shareholders had sold, because at the moment, Caeles held the majority of Viridis’ shares of the stock, making them a majority shareholder. Feyre finally understood why the three heads of the company were so riled up. It really could be the end of their time at the company.

Leaning over to Nuala, Feyre asked, “What do we know about Caeles?” She pulled a pen out of her small leather portfolio and began to jot notes down as Ceridwen answered. “They’re relatively new, founded about ten years ago by Rhysand Neri and his cousin Morrigan. Apparently they mostly focus on renewable food sources, though it seems more broadly the company is focused on genetically modified agriculture. They have their hands in, uh, just a sec.” Ceridwen thumbed through the pile of paper, though Feyre found it before she did.

“Looks like their most recent focus is on soy crops in the Central Valley region. That explains why they're trying to take us over, at least.” Feyre’s gaze shuttered at that, knowing just how brutal Viridis’ policies towards competitors was. She and Lucien had just finished filing a lawsuit against the Growers of the Valley, requiring them to turn over 20% of their profits, as it had been ‘anonymously’ discovered that a large portion of their crops seeds were from Viridis’ own stores. She knew those farmers in the Growers of the Valley association couldn’t afford the 20% tariff, but per her company’s procedures it was a required case to take. 

She ignored the growls and curses from the three heads of the company and continued to thumb through the papers, before turning to Lucien. “Whitemail? Do we have enough capital to cover the shares it would take to tip the balance back in our favor?” She watched the gears in his mind turning, but scribbled a few other options on her notepad as well. 

“Let’s talk whitemail,” he finally said, standing up and motioning to the three of them to follow him out of the main office. “We’ll just be in the other room so you three can talk freely,” he said with a careless wave, already ushering them out of the room before Aamon could protest.

“Thank the gods we’re free of that,” said Nuala with a huffy laugh, giving Ceridwen a look. “If I had to stay in that testosterone-filled room for another moment, I think I’d have suffocated.” Feyre gave her friend a look of agreement, and even Lucien couldn’t hide his grin.

“What Feyre suggested might work,” he said, sitting down at the table and spreading the company’s bylaws out on the table. “Each of you grab a section, and let’s see what anti-takeover measures we can take. The likelihood that the new guy’ll fire all of us is pretty high, so work as though it were your ass on the line because, let’s face it, it probably is.”

So they hunted, heads down and fingers flying across the keyboard, for hours, until Feyre’s neck was sore and Nuala was yawning for the third time in as many minutes. Glancing down at her watch, she gave a resolute yawn of her own and sat down her pen, tip practically chewed up from that night’s frantic search. 

“Lucien, respectfully, we’re all exhausted. Nuala can barely keep her eyes open, and I think I’ve seen Ceridwen misspell the word ‘thorough’ at least four times. With spellcheck on,” she added, cutting off what would have been Ceridwen’s excuse. “I’m going to finish up for the night. It’s 12am, and I doubt the partners are going to let us sleep in tomorrow morning.” Though she might let Tamlin walk all over her, she knew her limits. She could feel a headache just starting in her temple, and her stomach rumbled in complaint at its negligence. 

Lucien threw up his hands, the picture of exasperation, but Feyre could see through it to the real exhaustion below the surface on him too. “Fine, you lazy lot. Go home and curl up with your teddy bears for all I care. I’m going to stay and see if I can find a way to keep Aamon from killing and eating me tomorrow morning. Night, ladies.” With little more than a glance up as their chairs scraped against the ground, Lucien continued flipping through pages, jotting notes in his messy handwriting, and biting his lip. If it were any other situation, she might have found him cute, but he was her superior and that was just too complicated for her. Shaking the errant thought from her head, she grabbed her jacket, tucked her portfolio under her arm, and headed out into the now decidedly frigid October air. 

The cold instantly snapped her awake as she stepped out onto the street, hands jammed in her coat pockets. Glancing back the way she came, she made a snap decision to instead head east, ducking into a bar just down the road from work she wasn’t at all unfamiliar with. Her first few months working with Tamlin’s condescending and sleazy comments had seen her, Ceridwen, and Nuala at the bar more often than she might’ve liked, but in moments like this as she slipped inside and was greeted with a smile by Ressina from behind the bar, she knew there were worse places she could end up. 

“You’re not normally here on the weekdays babe,” said Ressina in the way of a greeting, wincing in sympathy at Feyre’s sour expression. Without prompting, she made up Feyre’s drink of choice - a vodka cranberry - and passed it over before leaning on the bar, expression expectant.

Feyre took a long drink before giving a huffy laugh at Ressina. “You are probably one of the only bartenders in the city that actually wants to hear what her patrons have to moan about, you know that?” The bar was mostly empty, save for a couple that looked like they were only moments away from leaving and finding a room somewhere. Feyre was surprised to find that the idea actually held some appeal to her, as well. Brushing that aside, she glanced down the bar at a lone figure staring into his drink, and decided it was safe enough to tell her friend.

“You know where I work, right? Well, let’s just say none of us might work there any longer. There’s new blood coming in and apparently trying to clean house. I don’t know how much longer I have a job.” She gave a mirthless laugh and finished the rest of her drink in one go, motioning for a second one as Ressina made comforting noises. 

“That’s rough kiddo,” said the barkeep as she stirred up another drink for Feyre without prompting, tisking under her breath. “I swear, the way they use you there with no gratitude, this might just be the thing to kick your ass in gear and get you to actually find a place that values you.” 

Feyre just shook her head and pulled out her portfolio, now nursing her new drink as she scribbled new strategies to prevent the takeover. Ressina took this for the break in conversation it was and began to clean up behind the bar, preparing for closing while humming to the music under her breath. The woman really was beautiful, and Feyre found herself distracted watching the way her inky hair swayed with her as she went about cleaning up and closing out tabs. Feyre’s fingers itched to draw her, already imagining the lines curving around her figure, the strokes it would take to convey the feather-fine hair. After a few minutes, however, she forced herself to get back to work. That was, ostensibly, why she was at the bar after all. She began to jot down counter strategies, leaving little notes to herself later on to explain what she was talking about, and found herself so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice the man at the end of the bar studying her until Ressina cleared her through and tossed her head in his direction.

“Uh,” she began, unsure how to spark a conversation with a man that clearly felt no shame at drinking her up like he was parched. “Hi?” Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and cold, and she knew she’d had just enough to drink to loosen up by the heat radiating off of her ears. 

The man took a long sip of his drink before standing up and walking over, never taking his gaze off of Feyre. She felt goosebumps rise on her arms, but tamped down on the feeling and forced herself to keep a neutral enough expression. He was better looking in the light, his raven hair almost purple in the neon of the bar and mouth curved in what she could only imagine to be a smile promising filthy things.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, sitting down so close that their thighs touched. She felt warmth spread down her neck, though she forced herself to meet his gaze steadily, ignoring the quickening of her breath. He, however, didn’t ignore it and watched the way her breasts rose and fell under her blouse, drinking in the sight before looking back up with a smirk.

“Do I even know you?” Feyre asked, brow cocked. “I bet you use that line on all the girls.” She turned away, a deliberate move in that dance as old as time. Parry and riposte, ebb and flow. The heat in her veins made her bolder than normal, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I don’t even know your name, stranger.”

A funny look crossed his face so quickly that Feyre decided she imagined it, before he answered easily, “Daemon. And yours, my beauty?” 

Feyre laughed, rolling her eyes at him, though she felt herself more at ease with what was clearly a teasing compliment. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think Daemon?” She tucked a curl behind her ear that had fallen out of her haphazard bun, noticing the way his eyes followed her every movement with the laziness of a predator that knows it has its prey cornered. 

“What are you doing here, anyway? Beautiful woman like you, alone on a cold night like this? You should be curled up in furs next to some lucky guy somewhere.” His tone was light, but the hungry light in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than lust. 

“Work,” she replied, expression tightening slightly at the reminder. “Don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?” She nodded down at his midnight suit, well-fitted and beyond anything she could ever afford, and cocked a brow. The challenge was clear in her gaze. She reached out and took his hand, ignoring the spark at their connection that caused Daemon to raise an eyebrow, and turned it palm-up. “Not a callus to be seen, just as I suspected,” she said, giving a theatrical sigh. “Bet your silver spoon is tucked away in that fancy suit too, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, instead taking her hand and placing it on his chest where she could feel his heart pounding beneath the silky fabric. His other hand slid into her hair, massaging the back of her head and drawing an unintended moan from her. The tension from that day seemed to loosen and slide away. She’d always loved getting her head massaged, and it was almost as though he’d known this when he began. Her hands bunched the fabric of his lapel, eyes glazed until he drew his hand down to her cheek and began to draw close. 

She realized where this was going, chastised herself for being too easy, and then met his lips with her own. It was utter possession. His kiss was firm and commanding, taking and giving in equal measure. She felt his chest rumble when she slipped her tongue past his lips, tanging with his own, and would have kept going if not for a pointed cough from behind the bar.

Pulling away, Feyre felt her face turn scarlet and had to force herself to ignore Daemon’s self-satisfied smirk as he straightened his clothing. 

“You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” said Ressina with a knowing look, glancing between the rapid rise and fall of Feyre’s chest and the lipstick staining the corner of Daemon’s mouth. “Go on, lovebirds. Don’t make an old woman long for something she can’t have.” She turned her back to them to clean the glasses sitting out, but not before Feyre saw her grin. 

Turning back to Daemon, she was at a loss for words. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kinda gal. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but she just...tended to not have time for relationships, and being the pragmatic girl she was, took care of any needs with brisk efficiency and the help of a not-inexpensive vibrator she’d gifted herself as a housewarming present when she moved to Cali. This guy, though… He almost seemed worth the trouble of bringing him home. She looked between him and the door, though her question was apparently written plainly enough on her face for him to make the one to suggest it.

He leaned in, nuzzling her neck and pressing kisses behind her ear. “I’d ask my place or yours, but I’m all the way across the city. You live closer?” His words were a torment of warm breath against one of her most sensitive places, drawing goosebumps up along her neck. Her head swam as though she was drunk, but she hadn’t had enough to go beyond a buzz and knew it must all be him. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. 

“Then let’s go, Feyre darling. Don’t make me wait.” 

He didn’t have to ask twice, not with the heat in her stomach dropping lower, lower, until she felt her thighs squeeze together unconsciously. She quickly paid for her drink and ignored the salacious looks her friend was giving her, before grabbing her portfolio and keys, nearly stumbling after Daemon as he stood and took her hand. If the bulge in his pants was any indication, it seemed like he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

The trip home was a blur of scorching hot kisses and freezing wind, the combination almost driving her wild. They stumbled up the steps to her apartment and, with clumsy hands, she unlocked the door. Daemon pressed her back against the door, slamming it closed behind them, and began to ravish kisses up her throat, along her cheek, until he possessed her mouth entirely. Their kisses weren’t sweet, but a clashing of natural phenomena: a tidal wave against a sheer cliff, the inexorable pull of gravity on a falling stone. Their breath mixed as she pulled at his clothing, forgetting in the moment that the silk falling to the ground around them likely cost more than she made in a month. 

“More,” she demanded, biting his lip petulantly when he pulled away in order to unbutton her blouse. He flashed a promising grin her way, in that moment being the picture of boyish pleasure and nothing like the foreboding man she’d first seen at the bar. The moment the chilled air hit her breasts, she arched her back and he took the opportunity to fill his hands with her, mercilessly brushing his thumb over her nipples until they rose in stiff peaks. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, against her skin, lowering his head to taste the rosy buds that now stood erect between them. “Divine.” He laved his tongue over her breasts, then down the valley between them until she couldn’t keep herself from pulling him back up to her mouth. Her hands snaking down his chest, undoing the buttons as she went until she could press her hands against his bare skin, teasing her fingers down his side until she reached his belt. 

“Gods,” she groaned, clumsily undoing the buckle and shoving her hands into his trousers where she took possession of his cock, hard as steel and nearly as big around as her fingers could reach. She felt a shudder roll through him as she slowly teased him, swiping the bead of liquid from his tip and using it to help her hand glide up and down his length. “You’re so big, I-”

“Bedroom,” he bit out, cutting her off. He seemed to strain against her hand, nipping down her throat and along the tops of her breasts. “Unless you want to have sex against this door.”

The thought appealed to Feyre, but she managed to surface from her heady lust long enough to lead them both to her bedroom. She didn’t bother turning on the light, instead toppling into bed with him. “Condom?” she asked breathlessly, the thought only now crossing her mind. She was on birth control, but something about a one-night-stand seemed to require protection from a different sort of danger. 

“My wallet,” he groaned, the sound turning into a growl as she slid her hand around his hips to dip into his back pocket, giving his ass a grope before returning with the foil-covered square. He squeezed his eyes shut as she rolled the condom down the length of him, then his control seemed to snap. 

Rolling her beneath him, he poured kisses down her body until he reached the edge of her skirt, which he roughly pushed down until she was bare to him in only her pink flower underwear and tan bra. She hadn’t planned on getting laid when she got dressed that morning, but couldn’t muster enough concentration to worry about what he thought as he yanked the two pieces of fabric hiding her from him. His mouth slide lower, lower, pressing kisses to the delicate skin of her hips and inside of her thighs, before he sat up and pressed a thumb over her nub, rubbing once, twice, as she groaned beneath him. 

“Yes, yes,” she breathed, hips bucking as he continued, adding first one, then two fingers inside her as she struggled against the wave rising higher and higher inside of her. 

“So tight,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers and, in an act that had her melting, licked off each of his fingers, before lowering his face and feasting. A rumble of pleasure vibrated against her, causing her to alternate pushing against his head and pulling him closer, thighs squeezing against his shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, seeming to know what she needed but couldn’t say aloud. “Ready…?” He took her cry of pleasure as a yes, then said lowly, “Then come for me, Feyre darling.”

He drew her nub between his lips and sucked, laving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves as she convulsed beneath him, finding herself soaring up and up until her pleasure broke on a knife’s edge, sending her shattering down back to earth.

Panting, Daemon gave her no time to recover, propping her hips up and lining himself up before driving in with a thrust. The pressure was intense, and this time her cry was tinged with discomfort, though he remained still until she began to slowly rock against him, moaning his name under her breath.

He took this as the permission that it was and began to move, slowly at first, then more quickly, angling himself so that he hit that one spot inside of her that caused her legs to clench so tightly around him that she thought he would complain. 

She kept up the quiet litany under her breath of “yes, yes, yes,” as he drove into her, hips pistoning until she felt his control shatter and his pace grew frantic. The heat inside of her roared up again, rising like a furnace, until she felt him thrust deep inside of her and groan, his pleasure sparking her own until they were both tumbling down, down, into each other and the orgasm they shared. She felt her eyes closing when the bed dipped under him as he stood. The sink ran in the bathroom, then he returned, sliding under the covers with her and petting her hair with a lazy, unhurried pace. Her eyelid began to grow heavy, until finally she gave into sleep.

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X11

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

I liked this episode overall even though it wasn’t quite what I was expecting. I thought that in this episode we were going to see Meredith and Derek reunite one last time on the beach and then Meredith was going to wake up in a dramatic fashion and we would get some big dramatic scene. I now think that that's going to happen in next week's episode or the one after. I like that they showed that she was getting better but that the challenge now was to get her to wake up and stay awake. While it wasn't super dramatic it was probably more realistic to how the disease actually works and affects people in real life.

I kept thinking every time Meredith fell back asleep that she was going to appear on the beach, and I was little disappointed that she didn’t. That being said, I really loved Jo's scene with Meredith. I thought it was really sweet and touching and I like that Meredith was supportive and told Richard what Jo had said so that he could help her. Jo was scared that Meredith would yell at her and not understand if she told her so that was nice to see. I also liked that this episode combined with the previous one seems to indicate that the beach exists in Meredith’s head, it’s her happy place, and that she can hear people when they talk to her at her bedside and can potentially hear people when they stand outside her room.

This means that when she does wake up for real, they won’t have to rehash plots that we’ve already seen because Meredith will already know what happened and they can just go from there. I also really liked the scene where Richard came to Jo and she was worried he was angry with her and would try to talk her out of switching specialties, but instead he told her he wanted to help her but he couldn't do that if he was in the dark. That being said, while I’m okay with Jo switching it up, I'm still not sold on Jo switching to OBGYN because I don't think they've done enough to set up the storyline.

We’re 3/4 of the way through the season and all Jo has done is talk about it, but she hasn't done anything to actually make it happen. We got more set up for her switching to Urology and being mentored by Catherine in one episode than we've had all season with Jo wanting to switch to OBGYN. Jo’s had plenty of time to talk to people in the field about her desire to change careers, talk to her superiors, and find a mentor. She’s done none of that. In fact she’s been hiding her desire to switch from everyone who could actually help her with feels a lot like self-sabotage. If she’s really interested, she should have gone to Meredith, Bailey, and Richard in the first half of the season and talked about how she was feeling.

She should have asked Hayes and Carina what working in OBGYN and Pediatrics was really like. She hasn’t done that and right now she seems to have a very rosy picture of what the field is like that just doesn’t match the reality. She keeps talking about how it’s going to be great because it’s all about happy Moms, but that isn’t the reality for everyone. There’s a lot that can go wrong in childbirth, not everyone is happy to be having a baby, some might be placing their children for adoption, they may be fighting with their partner, they may lash out because they are in pain, the list goes on.

If Jo is serious about switching, she should be asking Hayes and Carina a thousand questions and finding someone to mentor her. Instead her and Carina haven’t had a single scene together this season that I can recall, and she spent two whole episodes screaming at Hayes and being super aggressive towards him when he was already terrified about Meredith and Irene. She knows that if she switches specialities she’ll be working with Hayes and people in his Department a lot. Which means she should be super nice to him and being asking for his help. Instead, she’s created this super weird dynamic in which she’s either yelling at him aggressively or they are exchanging polite conversation about work.

Hayes makes it clear to Irene that they are not friends, he is not interested in her, and has no desire to change that which is on Jo because she went from being nice to him and being friendly and teasing him about his feelings for Meredith last season to taking advantage of the fact that they are coworkers to scream at him when he didn’t want to break protocol after what happened to Meredith and was upset after Irene was admitted. She also made that horrible comment comparing his wife’s death to her divorce from Alex and seem to take the fact that he was upset and wanted the best care for Irene as a personal offence and to mean that Hayes think she’s incompetent. None of which is true. It’s all in Jo’s head.

So yeah, I’m not sold on her switching to OBGYN because they haven’t done enough set up and they already tried that with Carina, and it didn’t work. There just isn’t enough material to have a character appear on the show regularly if they are an OBGYN only and can’t perform pediatric, fetal, or neonatal surgery. After they wrote Arizona off, they spent two seasons trying to find stuff for Carina to do before pairing her with Maya and moving her over to Station 19. Several of the current writers were present during seasons 14, 15, and 16 so they were there when that happened, and they were involved. So, I’m confused as to why they think something that failed the first time is going to work with an existing character.

If this is the show’s last season, I feel like this storyline is going to end with Jo re-specializing and adopting Luna. If this isn’t the show’s last season and they’re doing one more I don’t understand how the writers think they are somehow going to get a season’s worth of content out of Jo delivers babies and sleeps with Jackson. We got some good patient storylines this episode and the storyline about the newlywed couple was funny and interesting. I had a feeling as soon as Bailey convinced the guy to talk to his life that it was going to go the opposite way than Bailey intended.

I like that Owen took Bailey’s advice and gentle prodding to heart and apologized to Teddy. I am happy that Owen finally made amends and that he and Teddy seem to be moving forward. I was so sick of them fighting so I’m glad to see that storyline come to an end. It was exhausting and I'm glad that Owen finally got it and that that they are both starting to heal. It was long overdue. I think he heard what Bailey was saying and even though it didn't hold true for the couple they treated it did hold true for him and Teddy and that's what Bailey was trying to share with him.

As for what the future holds for Teddy and Owen, I'd like to see them become friends again and find a way to co-parent peacefully with Amelia and Link for the good of their kids and themselves. I think there's been too much drama and heartbreak for them to work as a couple at this point. I loved seeing Maggie and Hayes work together to treat a patient. I liked the scene where Maggie said it was time to let the patient go and Hayes looked at her and said aren't you some kind of genius or something? Figure it out.

It was nice to see her in a non-romantic storyline with someone that Meredith is interested in. I never liked the “Meredith is dating or interested in someone or they are interested in her, but her sister misunderstands the situation and thinks they are into her or cluelessly asks them out” plots. I love that Hayes is finally getting his moment in the sun. He's played a big role in the second half of the season so far and I'm really happy about that. He's one of my favourite new characters and they really underutilized him in the first half of the season. I loved seeing his interactions with Maggie and watching them find a solution for his young patient. I really loved the scene where they're all in the OR and their idea works. The unfettered joy on their faces was palpable and it filled me with joy!

The scenes where the patient’s father confided his fears to Hayes about his son and how his wife hasn’t been able to get out of bed in weeks and then just before they took him into surgery, he talked to his son about all of the things he wanted to do with him. That made me tear up. I loved how Hayes got the idea for the surgery from Jo being metaphorical and convinced Maggie to do it. I was surprised that Maggie’s engagement wasn’t mentioned, and I got the impression that Maggie hasn't told anyone about her engagement yet as no one commented on it so I'm interested to see when that will come out and people's reactions to it.

I liked that Link’s parents showed up and offered to take the kids out for the day (safely) and that we got to see Link having a happier interaction with his parents and that Amelia and Link got a break. While his parents have come across as selfish and sometimes cruel and irresponsible in the past it was really nice of them to offer to take the kids for the day and I like that they happily offered and accepted Meredith’s kids as family and that Link’s Mom called Amelia her daughter-in-law and said she considered her part of the family.  

I really loved the Amelia and Link scenes this episode. They were great! They were emotional and sexy and fun and silly and heartbreaking all at once. I'd like to see them get married, but not because his Mom keeps pushing it or because they find out that Maggie and Winston are engaged, but because they feel it's right for them. Link is at that place, but Amelia isn't and I don't want to see her jump into something because of outside pressure. She's done that before, and it always ends badly.

I really appreciate that the series is actively addressing Amelia's addiction and what it's like to live with that. Addiction is a lifelong battle, a chronic illness of sorts, and it is not a one and done deal. Amelia and Link don't have a lot of story options available to them because of Meredith's COVID storyline this season so I like that they are taking the opportunity to explore that more. I liked the comparison to her relationship with Owen where Link said I love you and I want to marry you, but I'm not Owen so I'm not here for the drama and if us getting married could cause you to relapse then we should wait. Link proposing and Amelia shouting no at him especially when he was shirtless made me laugh! I’m always here for shirtless Link!

I also really Jackson and Mama Ortiz’s storyline. They addressed a real issue in that sometimes people try to help because they feel moved or called to do so, but their band aid fix creates more problems long term than they solve. I like that Jackson got what Ortiz was saying and that he called her at the end of the episode and asked for her ideas for how they could use his money to really help people in their community long term. I love the actress who plays her and I'm excited that she’s getting more screen time.

I loved seeing Tom back in action! His lines in the trauma room were great! Bailey had some great scenes this episode as well. They're focusing more on the characters I really like or find interesting in the second half of the season so I'm really enjoying that. I had a few favourite scenes this episode. I loved the moment where Meredith woke up and Richard said, "Hey there, sleepy head," and Meredith said she was sorry he had to put her on a ventilator because she knows how hard that must have been for him and he said he'd do it again. And then Meredith said, "I'm glad I chose you." I love their father daughter relationship and that scene warmed my heart. I also really liked Teddy's line about the tea. That's a meme waiting to happen.

Onto next week’s promo! We see Jackson running by a Black Lives Matter protest which puts this episode at either the end of May or the beginning of June 2020 as George Floyd, may he rest in peace, was murdered on May, 25, 2020 and protests erupted the next day and grew in size in the following weeks and months. In the promo Richard brings in a wounded protestor and tells Jackson they were marching peacefully, and Jackson appears to be treating Hayes who we know has two black biracial children.

We also see Meredith being taken into the Hyperbaric Chamber by Levi, Maggie talking a distressing phone call, and Teddy doing chest compressions which means she’s back at work. Here’s hoping that Teddy took Amelia’s advice and found a new therapist that works for her. The most intriguing part of the Promo for me is that we see Bailey, dressed in full PPE, duck into a stairwell and scream “What?!?” out loud several times. I’m curious to know what she’s screaming about. Is it good? Is it bad? Is it both? Is it something bewildering? Can’t wait to find out.

Until next time!

[gilded-green]

@persononplanet​ replied to your post @persononplanet replied to your post Okay but if...

Oh definitely, being a Dai Li agent that tortures definitely does not help the entire ‘I like walking over people and feeling superior to them’ part XD.

And one of my assessments was quite right! Yay! He likes the power and control he has over others (because of vague handwave yong doesnt know and will not just stop a sec for self reflection)

And yup, i’m very certain yong is overall disliked by the entirety of re-education because of that little stunt he pulled, woop.

And yes, actually, if due to some reason Tuan, Yong, and Shirong were stuck together, then Shirong would out of plain annoyance of them and pure boredom just continue thinking and analyzing the situation and then just sigh and try to solve a bit of the issue. 

Cuz your work may be torture and dark stuff, it’s no excuse to be an overall dick. (Which Shirong, coincidentally, is a perfect example of. That man is a psychological torturer. In a way, it’s worse.

He drives people to insanity, watches, pushes his victims some more, and then manipulates them into trusting him so that he can do whatever the feels like. It’s dark, terrifying, and its really underplayed in the overall atla fandom how fucking terrifying and terrible brainwashing is.)

And despite that all, Shirong isn’t an asshole. He can make friends (sure he got like...one...but thats more than actual friends Yong has) and he can treat people with more respect and care than yong. 

Plus, shirong is a wholesome godfather. Cuz eventho he overall dislikes to be surrounded by people (like banquets etc etc) he likes that little family so he’ll put up with them and try to be nice to his friend’s little kiddo. 

Yong has a family, we see them briefly in that winter solstice party fic, but I doubt Yong would be a good and loving husband and father. He has literally never shown any semblance of caring about anyone or treating anyone with respect, 

So i kinda feel bad for her, living with the Head of Investigation, a man who doesnt care about anyone but himself and has a big time hunger for power and, more importantly, a feel of having power, musn’t be a happy home situation.

Then again we’ve never really seen yong’s home situation, who knows, maybe his wife is literally the only person he actually cares about but personally I doubt it. If many, many years of being dai li partners can’t make him care even a tad bit about tuan,

Then why would yong care for the wife that was higher in status than him and - probably - has some wealth and power as well? He probably doesnt. And while thats alright in a society where arranged marriages and political marriages take place, you *are* supposed to treat her with some respect. Which i doubt he does.

But the most sad part would be the daughter. His poor daughter.

Her father is basically the biggest jerk in the kingdom and only the jade emperor knows what she has seen happen between her mother and father...

If yong is how yong always is, even at home, then i feel so damn bad for that child. I know exactly what its like to feel unloved, alone, and forgotten and I wouldn’t wish that to this innocent little kiddo. 

At least tuan’s her godfather and her mother -probably- tries her best

*coughs* Actually you don’t have to worry about Yong’s wife and kid at all.

Like you really don’t.

Not like that, anyway. I mean maybe worry about them a little? But not like that.

See I have this thing where I’m not super fond of villains having to be awful in literally all aspects. I don’t like it when creators decide “Well that’s the bad guy so we can use them as a dumping ground for every awful character trait possible.” It’s annoying and uninspired and lazy and pretty much my only exception is Ozai because Ozai is just Bad At Everything, except also I do still headcanon he and Ursa did actually have a romantic relationship and The Search never changed that so never mind Ozai isn’t as much of an exception as I thought.

Anyway, Yong is neither a terrible husband nor a terrible father.

He’s not exactly a great father, either, but like. He’s a dad. It’s part of his identity, which he has carefully built for himself. And sure, in some ways, he sees his wife and daughter as tools and stepping stones to get where he wants, but uhhhhhh....that’s how it works in his society. That’s pretty normal.

Normal to the point that he uses his wife as much as she uses him. They met, had a whirlwind romance, he realized this upper-middle class young woman and her family could definitely help him in his career, she realized this up-and-coming regular-middle class young man was going places and it’d be beneficial to hitch a wagon to his shining star, and they formalized the whole arrangement with a marriage. And welp, that sure did turn out to be a good investment for the both of them! He became one of the highest officials in the government, she gets to be the wife of someone super important, and they both get to live in the Upper Ring and chill with nobility despite being Middle Ring commoners. Also her family gets all sorts of business deals thanks to their brilliant son-in-law’s connections. So everyone’s gotten what they want, and Yong’s wife probably doesn’t know the details of what he does at work, and she probably doesn’t care to, and if she did know about the torture, she’d probably shrug like “Well sometimes that’s just how it goes, isn’t it? How else is my husband supposed to keep the city safe?”

She’s not affected by it, and more importantly she doesn’t want to be affected by it. If you try to bring her attention to the torture, she is not going to be shocked or aghast or even teary over how you’ve opened her eyes to her husband’s horrible practices. She’s going to be very annoyed at you for attempting to throw a wrench into the gears of the privilege machine that is her life. And then she’s going to complain to Yong about you, because she knows her powerful husband will fix it.

She probably knows about his extra-marital activities, too, and she also probably doesn’t care so long as everyone knows she’s his wife and no other partners matter. It’s a small price to pay for the life she’s leading. Plenty of powerful people in Ba Sing Se have lovers on the side! Heck she might too, who knows?

As for their daughter, well, having a kid was part and parcel of the whole enterprise. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Get married, have a kid, pass on the family lineage? Also they just kinda liked the idea of it. So they had a kid, and Thi is growing up to be another privileged little lady. Her father is very powerful and her life is very nice and she wants for nothing and she doesn’t know what her dad does all day but she does know he’s a hero who protects the city.

Yong may not be winning Father of the Year anytime soon, but he’s not a bad dad. If anything he’s kinda like the stereotypical Victorian father who provides for his family and is loved and respected but maybe not necessarily close to his kid, and then proceeds to go to the office where he continues to subjugate the empire’s colonies using the power of coal mined by impoverished children. The main difference is that Yong is a bit more hands-on, but eh. *handwave* Storytelling. Whatever.

There are lots of people out there who got raised by loving parents who were also just...not great people. There are lots of people out there who were raised by their loving parents to be just as not-great. And they don’t even realize it, because to them their privilege is normal, and they aren’t going to be very bothered with changing things. Or they won’t want to because it’ll mean they’ll have to confront the fact that they might not be great people. Or their parents weren’t great people, and the way they were raised was wrong. That can be a scary and hard and upsetting process to go through.

And Yong’s family really has no reason to want to go through it. Why would they? Their husband/father is an important man who protects the city and provides for his family. What else could they possibly want?

[narniadynasty]

Suddenly there came a most frightful jerk and a noise | When that awful jerk came I thought it was the beginning of a railway accident | I remember thinking it was taking the bend far too fast | There was a frightful roar and something hit me with a bang 

There was a real railway accident | All of you are dead 

“Well! We have had a time," Peter says turning to his siblings when they land back in the platform, waiting for their train. Edmund doesn’t seem to hear him as he searches frantically for his torch, shoulders drooping when the realization hits that he left it back in Narnia. Lucy and Susan laugh as they rush to grab their luggage. Peter takes a moment to breathe before lifting his head and moving to them to help. He herds his siblings on the train, making sure they’re all accounted for and squares his shoulders sharing a knowing smile with Su, as they watch the train get full as students pile in. Knowing it’s time for him to move on. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I was thinking about a career in medicine." Peter had said once, but back in Narnia he had to make the tough choice, the hard choice and don his armour, pick up his sword, and fight for a home that knew him only as a legend, now. 

Here, back in England, he is no one. He is not a warrior or soldier. He is not a King of Old, a Saviour, or even a Legend. He is not High King Peter, the Magnificent. 

Here, he is only Peter. 

Peter Pevensie, a boy on the cusp of adulthood. A boy with a whole future ahead, one not filled with slaughter and swords. A boy who decides that ‘yes, a career in medicine is my future.’. No more 'thinking about‘ and instead just going for it. He spends hours, days, and months studying, falling deeper and deeper into the complexities and intricacies of modern medicine and the new treatments showing so much promise and knows that he made the right decision. He wants to be part of the change coming to this world, he needs to be. He needs to be part of this new movement. He needs to save these people, his people, in a way different than his hands had been trained to do, long ago in another world. He’s always been on the frontline and this is the same. Now, instead of battles and slaughter, he faces disease and sickness. He faces broken noses from drunken fights. He combats an enemy unseen now. His scalpel is moulded to his hand as Rhindon once was. This world is advancing in ways Narnia never did, maybe never will. And he is going to do whatever he can to help lead it into the new era, a crownless king, magnificent once more.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He leaves for America some time after his parents and Susan return. After he reunites with a quiet Lucy and a solemn Edmund and a changed Eustace. After he and Susan find a moment to gather the younger trio and question what has happened. He hears of how they had an adventure, their last adventure (not for Eustace who still has more to go). He shares a look with Susan and she swallows a sob, had known it was coming for her younger siblings, just as it did for her and Peter, but still hoping it wouldn’t. She steels herself and smiles ushering Eustace with her under the guise of needing help in setting the table for dinner. Peter sits and waits until the last creak fades down the stairs before he turns to Edmund and Lucy. 

Edmund hunches over, his fingers gripping hard to his knees, as the breath trembles and shakes through his bitten lips. Lucy dives for Peter, a small hummingbird, on the other side of the room one moment and in Peter’s arms the next. She clutches tight to her older brother, hides her face, and lets her tears stain his shoulder and he grips tight to his sister, hoping it will help but knowing nothing will ease that loss anytime soon. He sits with them, him in the middle, both siblings on either side and holds them both and wishes he could take this heartbreak away. Susan slips in the room with a murmured ‘Eustace is distracting everyone,’ shock still evident in her voice over their cousin’s change. She takes a seat next to Edmund, the couch dipping down. Peter’s got an arm around each younger sibling, and Lucy clings to him so Susan takes one of Edmund’s hands and gently loosens it from it’s tight grip on his pants and slides her fingers through his, an anchor to hold onto as he breaks. ‘We’ve got you,’ she whispers to a sobbing Lucy and trembling Edmund. Lucy reaches across Peter and Edmund to the hand Susan holds and places hers on top, seeking comfort from her resilient older sister like she always did. Susan places her other hand on top just as quickly, gripping hard to both. 

Once they’ve gathered themselves, Peter will lead them down to the dining table, back straight and shoulders strong. Edmund and Lucy will follow his guiding strength, and in his stead ready themselves for a future unknown. Susan will follow, last, and unwavering as she keeps a hand ready and reaching for either younger sibling who may falter. They’ll join their cousin who stands watching with awe evident in his gaze as he catches a brief glimpse of the Kings and Queens they once were as they enter the room. As he catches a glimpse of what the Narnians knew them to be. Hope walking. They’ll join their parents and aunt and uncle and sit through a dinner. ‘In a minute, once they’ve gathered themselves,' Peter thinks sitting on an old couch upstairs with his siblings beside him, broken.

Peter leaves for America some months later. He stays with his siblings and helps them find their strength. He leaves after hearing about the adventures and thrill that Susan faced in this land, this unknown land. He wants that. His blood sings for it. He studies hard in years and receives glowing recommendation letters from his professors, even Professor Kirke. He’s approved for travel and continued study if he’d like to accept. 

He will. He does. He packs his things, his books and clothes and trinkets Lucy keeps "stealthily" hiding amongst his things. He irons the shirts Susan has picked out for him to make him fit well over there, a new and different fashion than England's. She teaches him everything and anything she’s learnt from her brief visit and promises to write anything she’s forgotten. Edmund gifts him a new handbag, his old one having worn out over the years and unfit for his new adventure. 

Peter smiles softly and hugs each sibling long and hard, at the station, before he picks up his things. His mother and father step forward for their own goodbye. Peter doesn’t know it yet, but his parents can see it, that he won’t be coming back anytime soon. His mother grips his face between older, softer, hands and smiles a tear-filled smile as she tells him that she’ll write every week as often as she can. HIs father grips his shoulder and tells him how he is so proud of the man he already is and is on his way to becoming. They share their own hug with Peter, their first child and he grips them hard as he flashes a small smile at his saddened siblings through the gap between his parents shoulders. They straighten their shoulder and smile back at their brother, their King, as he takes the steps to the train, as it gets smaller and smaller the further it gets. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He receives letters often enough that he can’t find it in himself to miss his family too much. He knows, just as they do, he’ll always have them, and them, him. Lucy's letters are filled with stray animals wandering through her path and school and how there are hard decisions she’s having to make for her future. She talks about Narnia a lot too. Too much for Peter sometimes. He skips those parts when they become too much, when it hurts too much. He’ll re-read it when he’s stronger, although those days are becoming fewer and fewer between. Edmund writes about his continued interest in law. He talks extensively about the unjust laws of the country and even the world and the changes he envisions. Before Peter knows it, those words have transitioned into comparisons to their Narnia's justice. How they created it. How they created them and how they could have done better. Like Lucy’s, Peter skips these parts in his brother's letters as well. Susan’s letters are filled with endless questions on how he’s doing and what’s going on. She rambles about the latest fashion she’s read in newspapers and magazines and asks him for all the details on what he sees out in the streets and boutiques, despite the many times Peter replies telling her he barely goes out due to his learning. Peter laughs at his sister’s letters until it slowly fades as she slowly, as if knowing Peter’s reluctance, transitions to words filled with the latest gatherings between them, Eustace, Professor Kirke and Professor Kirke’s friend, a Polly Plummer. He places the letter down when these come up and takes a moment to breathe before continuing on and skipping over any other mentions. 

When he writes back, he writes to them all at once. He’ll write small paragraphs for each member but it gives him the excuse to not reminisce about Narnia since his parents will also be reading the letter. He writes about the doctor he’s met during his residency who laughs a loud and joyful laugh with loud footsteps even when he tries to be quiet. He writes about a boy he’d met at the book store of their university, who he’d gotten to talking about some club activity going on that night. Who’d invited him, having seen some loneliness and homesickness in Peter’s eyes despite how much Peter tried to hide it. Who’s now his roommate.

That older doctor decides to take him under his wing and helps to train him to the best of his abilities. He’d seen Peter working one day, during his residency, and something about Peter and his kind hands and old eyes had caught the Doctor’s attention. And Peter is just as intrigued by this doctor, who’s hands have saved so many lives. Peter thrives under his care. 

He lives in a quiet apartment with Charlie, actually named Charles but only answers to Charlie, the friend he’d written to his family about, the one he’d befriended near the beginning of his new adventure. Who’d say ‘enough is enough, Pete, buddy,’ imploringly with with his no-other-answer-than-yes American accent, Peter’s book in one of his hand’s held out of Peter’s reach before finally dragging Peter into the dark nights to dance and laugh and forget about his stresses for one night. He learns to save so many lives during his stay and will continue to do so. On the hard days, the days where he can’t save the patient, where he loses them, despite everything he and all the other’s do, he goes home silently. Charlie can tell what kind of day it has been by the quiet of Peter’s arrival and pours him one glass of whiskey and sets it in front of Peter on their small table. His hand grips Peter’s shoulder in solidarity for a moment before he leaves Peter to the silence knowing Peter needs the time alone to grieve and break. He doesn’t know what Peter has been through but he's seen enough to know that Peter won’t take that moment with him or anyone in the vicinity. So he takes a walk, down the apartment stairs and around their block, twice, before he heads back to find Peter’s room door shut and the glass he’d set down cleaned and put away. In the morning Peter will have a small smile on his face as he pieces himself back together. As Peter prepares for a new day.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter is in America when he receives a call. 

It’s Charlie and Peter starts talking before his roommate can, about the ‘book you forgot, mate,’ the book ‘you said you absolutely needed for your class,’ he finishes with a laugh. There’s no answering laugh, or pleading voice of his friend’s asking him to run it over for him. There’s only a heavy silence.

'Mate, you still there?' Peter asks in a quiet voice a hand gripping hard to the table the phone sits on. Something’s wrong, Peter can tell. Charlie is never this quiet.

‘Pete, buddy,’ he hears. But it’s not said in the laughing tone Peter’s so used to hearing, instead it’s said in a broken sob. 

‘What, what is it? Charlie, mate?' Peter questions with a quiet, breaking voice. He hears a heaving Charlie breathe in a hard breath as if preparing himself. Preparing himself for what, is all Peter gets the chance to ask himself, before Charlie tells him. 

About an accident. 

He’d heard about it from one of the other British students who’d lost her cousin in the accident. A railway accident that occurred on the same day that Susan had written Peter about where she and the rest of the family, Lucy, Edmund, and their parents, would be taking a train to meet up with Eustace, Jill (Eustace’s friend), Digory, and Polly on one of their routine meet ups.

'Pete?’ Charlie asks quietly in the silence of Peter’s response. ‘Peter?’ Charlie asks a little louder a little firmer, but all he hears is the click of Peter disconnecting. Charlie throws the phone down, apologies already spewing from his mouth as he races from the building, as he races to Peter, his best friend who’s always been there for him. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Peter returns to England.

He sees his remaining family, his aunt and uncle, and friends during the funerals. He meets the Poles, parents to Eustace’s best friend Jill. Hears stories about the lively Polly Plummer from her remaining family. Speaks to other professors that Professor Kirke had worked and learned with. 

He watches with a clenched jaw and watery eyes as his parents and siblings and cousin are lowered into their graves, here with him no more. Every time he attempts to speak, to tell about the brilliance of his mother or the strength of his father, his voice gives way to nothing. He wants to tell everyone about Susan, a younger sister who had no trouble calling him out on his wrongs. Who would help share the burden of being away from home, of having to raise their younger siblings in the absence of their parents. Who was the gentlest soul he ever knew. He wants to speak about Edmund, his younger brother, his best friend. Who always had his nose buried in books, and dreamt of making the world better for future generations. Who was able to remain just and fair and loving despite having faced the harshest of times. He wants to let them know about the Lucy he knew, his Lucy, the younger sister to them all. Lucy, the sunny and smiling sister with the kindest of hands ready to catch anyone should they fall. Who was as valiant as the heroes of legends and myths of this world.

He can’t though. His voice breaks every time time he tries. His hands shake on the podium he grips until he has to be lead away by gentle hands who hold his as he is unable to stay standing in his grief.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he finally retires for the night, after the funerals, he finds his gaze going back to his luggage. Back to where the letters from his family are placed. Tucked under his clothes, wrapped with cloth to keep them together.    

[inqorporeal]

Future Tense

It was rare, Theron mused, that things were so quiet that they had a moment to relax like this. The cantina was bustling, and all of the advisors and primary staff had been able to justify taking the evening off. Theron got a lot of shit for being a workaholic, and even now he could feel the niggling itch of a puzzle left unsolved. But it could wait. For the moment, there were more important things to worry about.

Sitting in the booth beside him, the Commander cradled their drink between their hands and leaned a little more into Theron's space, seeking permission.

It was a… weird dynamic between them. The Commander was Imperial, Theron was a Republic spy. Feelings should never have developed between them; but what had begun as an uneasy alliance had blossomed into a mutual respect and even admiration. By the time Theron ran into them on their way to rescue him from the Revanites, well….

You couldn't fake that look of relief in a person's eyes. They had stood up for him, defended him, and hadn't agreed with Lana about her willful negligence which had led to Theron's capture. Seven years later and he was still awed that anyone had successfully extracted an apology, however reluctant, from a Sith Lord on his behalf. 

When they'd first begun their association chasing rumours of Revanites, Theron had been worried that the two Imperials might try to extract Republic secrets from him; neither had asked more than he was willing to offer, and even though he'd felt incredibly lonely during that time, he had also felt at ease. Nobody was leaning over his shoulder for once Marcus, nor prying into his downtime activities Jonas, and the people he had to work with had encouraged him to put the datapad down in the evenings to share a drink or two and talk shit about members of the Dark Council. Theron had felt free enough to dump some of his (non-classified) dirt on certain Senators, to the amused delight of his partners in conspiracy-routing.

So when the Commander had asked about Satele, Theron may have spilled a bit of long-held bitterness. It wasn't really fair of him -- Satele wouldn't have wanted to let Darth Marr know Theron might be leverage on her (he would be; her distance in his youth aside, Satele did care). But… he'd been tired. The painkillers had been wearing off. Maintaining a semblance of professional decorum during that meeting had consumed his remaining energy, and his patience had largely taken a leave of absence.

The Commander -- his ally, swiftly sliding into territory that could have tentatively been friendship -- had expressed concern, support, bantered lightly and teased him, drawing his mind away from the pressing issues for a precious moment. When they'd kissed him, it had felt real, like Theron was appreciated and cared for, like they had seen the worst sides of him and found the whole package worth the risk.

They had been risking everything, stealing private moments when and where they could on Yavin IV, surrounded by military detachments from both sides who clearly didn't trust each other. If anyone who had cared had caught them together, Theron would have lost his job and possibly been brought up for an official inquiry; who knew what the Commander had risked. Knowing the Sith, probably interrogation and/or death.

Just for him, Theron, a Jedi washout, an intelligence analyst with no life outside his work and a long list of past relationships that had never survived his career for more than a couple of months. The knowledge had shaken him to his core then, and it still did now: that someone had looked at Theron and found him worth risking death for.

Of course it could have been a ruse, but the looks Lana had been giving them said otherwise. She pretended not to see anything and didn't utter even one word of teasing. If Marr and Satele found out about them, it wouldn't be from her.

Saying goodbye had been unexpectedly painful. In truth, Theron had allowed things to continue because he hadn't believed they would live long enough to see the end of it. So, it seemed, had the Commander. Who needs words? they'd whispered, and kissed him, soft and tender, gloved fingers weaving into his hair and pulling him close. Theron had started to speak, to say how sorry he was, and they'd pressed a fingertip to his lips, with a smile so gentle and sorrowful it damn near broke his heart. Message received: don't apologise for the inevitable.

Theron had spent a year denying that it still ate at him, denying that he thought of them every day, denying that the reason he'd stopped joining Jonas for nights out that ended with casual hook-ups had less to do with working hard to re-prove his loyalty and more to do with the fact that a certain Imperial loyalist had claimed Theron's heart and he didn't want a replacement. Hearing about what had happened to Marr's fleet, though, had blasted that denial right out of the sky. Theron had got back in touch with Lana, asking what happened; maybe she'd actually liked him, or maybe she'd just been in shock, but she gave him straight answers instead of telling him where to get off, and then wrapped it up with, They're not dead, Theron. I can feel them, still. I'll be in touch.

Now he knew why the Commander had been pissed enough to force Lana to apologise to him a year earlier. The thought of the Commander imprisoned somewhere while everyone assumed they were dead nearly destroyed Theron. He'd thrown out all the alcohol in his Coruscant apartment so he wouldn't give into the temptation, and the feeling of time being wasted on the comparative minutiae of his actual job scratched and scraped at the back of his brain. Jonas, perceptive bastard that he is, had noticed; he'd suggested burning off Theron's restlessness with a night out and got snapped at for his trouble.

Theron had -- eventually -- apologised for that, but not before Lana had commed him on the secret, massively encrypted frequency he'd devised. Theron had sent his apology to Jonas taped to the only bottle of booze he'd kept, the unopened bottle of Corellian brandy Jonas had given him to celebrate Theron's most recent promotion.

He had no illusions that he'd effectively sunk his fifteen-year career in the SIS when he'd packed up his essentials and bought a shuttle ticket to Nar Shaddaa under a pseudonym, using credits from one of his other pseudonymic accounts. It wasn't like his work mattered anymore, anyway. In the last few months since Zakuul's Eternal Fleet had come out of nowhere and effectively annexed the Republic, their department heads had played at pretending everything was fine and normal, while all signs pointed to the contrary. According to Lana, the Empire was in much the same state.

Theron had long since grown tired of sitting on his hands instead of actually doing something. He never had dealt with periods of inactivity well.

And now… now he sat in a cantina surrounded by people he by rights should never have become friends with, with his arm openly around the shoulders of a certain ex-Imperial whose faith and loyalty had been well and truly shattered. They'd looked terrible when Theron had first seen them upon his arrival at Odessen: too thin, too exhausted, moving like everything hurt.

It hadn't prevented them from hugging him tightly -- right there in front of everyone -- and murmuring, "You're a sight for sore eyes," the same greeting they had offered on Ziost six years earlier. The feelings were still there, stronger than ever, and Theron had accepted the knowledge that this was his life now. Their lives, now.

The Commander was doing better since Valkorion had taken a cryptic leave of absence; better appetite, less prone to waking up in the middle of the night cursing out someone Theron couldn't throw out of the room, able to focus on work without drifting off to glare at the corner of the room every few minutes. Force only knew how much hassle the creepy Sith ghost had been giving them. It was a relief to Theron, as well -- both of them had been uneasy about the idea of the Sith Emperor watching them in the privacy of their quarters.

"What do you plan to do?" Theron found himself asking. "When this is all over and things go back to normal, I mean," he added when everyone at the table looked at him.

The Commander frowned into their drink. "I'm not sure 'normal' is ever going to happen," they answered. “Too much has changed in the galaxy. Everyone has been forced to adjust and adapt."

Theron gestured to the cheerful crowd beyond the relative privacy of their table. "I mean… the Alliance. Are we all going to have to just… go home?"

The Commander looked thoughtful, then glanced at Lana. "In your professional estimation--"

"Hah," Lana snorted, but she was smiling.

"Shush, you. In your estimation, how many friendships and romantic entanglements have occurred since the Alliance established itself?"

"On Odessen?"

"Everywhere we have operations."

The Sith frowned for a moment. "Hundreds. Thousands."

"Mmhmm, and in your estimation, how many of those would be considered cross-faction?"

Theron could see where this was going but he remained quiet -- his specialty was external intelligence; Lana's was internal.

"Roughly two-thirds, if we're considering smugglers, pirates, and bounty hunters their own faction."

The Commander looked back out at the bar. "Infrastructure is nothing without the people who make it tick, and those little alliances mean something. Say we win. Say we beat Valkorion at his own game. Do you really think people will happily give up everything they've built over the last few years and go back to what we were doing before? No. The defection rate would be tremendous. We're all here because the people we wanted to trust in sat back and did nothing, chose to use the opportunity to enrich themselves politically rather than combining their strength and fighting back." They turned their glass on the table, watching the water ring smear. "I'm not going back. I can't. I can't believe in that anymore. And if there are others who also don't want to go back…? Then we'll figure something out together."

Theron looked over at Lana, who met his eyes and shook her head. She couldn't go back, either. "Then maybe we should start thinking about future organisation," she ventured. "I know you don't want to remain in control forever--"

The Commander scoffed and leaned further into Theron's side. "I'm only the Commander because you pushed for it. Our Zakuul allies want me to sit on the Eternal Throne. I can guess why -- they think I'm Valkorion's next incarnation -- and I don't want that. Zakuul can figure its own shit out. But if we settle anywhere else, either the Republic, the Empire, or both will try to annex us. They already dislike the concept of a third power existing in the galaxy, and let's be real: Odessen isn't as secret as we wish it was. We should already be looking for a backup base; we might as well look for something that can be more permanent. I’m not just giving this up. Not again."

They hesitated, and glanced at Theron, something guilty in their eyes. Before they could apologise for making a choice without talking to him first, Theron pressed his temple against theirs. "Wherever we go, you can count on me to be there too."

[clandestine-j]

Gossip Girl Reboot, Ep. 2 Reaction / Review

This was posted on reddit first, crossing posting it here since I’ve chosen to review the ep’s and post on tumblr as well. So, this post is geared more towards reddit as a whole, this was posted a day after ep 2 aired.

i don't have a favorite character rating but #teamaki, yeah, the acting is awkward but it's getting better and it's not like it's the only bad acting in the show. i like the character either way.

now

people are so extra with zoya and obie and are looking at julien with the rose colored classes. yeah, obie shouldn't be dating zoya but let's not act like julien gave her all and everything to him. from the conversation with zoya in ep 1, his general feelings, audrey calls it out (maybe because she always feels that way)

She admits it at the end, she wouldn’t do the things he wanted when it came to his interest, he’d want to do random and fun things and she’d blow him off...how is this mart of someone fully invested in their other, no, she was invested what he did for her and how he made her feel. She misses him because in their other breaks he’d always come back. We saw a dying relationship and ppl can assume a lot about him but make 0 assumptions when it comes to her.

And then y’all expect Zoya to turn down the one person who’s actually nice, doesn’t ice her out and shares interest? What I want more than anything is for Zoya to find her own friends & her romantic interest, just one episode where her life isn’t an extension of Julien's. Idk wut, maybe she can go off on a find out gossip girl adventure. Idk something.

Then this talk about sisters and sister hood. Yeah, they’re blood related but what sisterhood is there? You say that’s is wrong for Zoya to do that to her sister but what about what her sister did to her? Even in this ep, she wants Obie so instead of idk driving Zoya away from him, she attacks her lil ‘sis’ over her long time boyfriend. She continues to let her friends talk bad about the girl. We can talk sister hood when she gives the mean team a good “learn me or leave me” when it comes to Zoya

At the of ep 1 Zoya says, she’s not playing the game. She’s grounded in fear of losing her scholarship, has already lost her dads trust. So she does that, she keeps her head down and doesn’t bother anyone but it’s the mean team to prompt Julien to after Zoya and she does. She’s minding her business at the even and Julien is the one to storm over and cause a scene. And it’s all about her, she’s scared of her dad finding out without any care that Zoya has lost and what she has left to lose. Of course she doesn’t care about Julien personal problems? When did Julien care really about hers? Then, she wants to sneak away and have fun and because she’s mad Zoya won’t run off and hide like a hood little girl, she once again collabs with GG, brings in the dads and fucks her sisters life up, AGAIN. Yeah, she changed her mind at the end but too little too late. Her come to jesus moment was great but the relationship she wanted/wants it very much damaged.

So yeah, Zoya dating the one person who has empathy for her is not as bad as the older sister who consistently let her be talked down, about and two, plotted with GG and didn’t even ask her if she was okay because, she didn’t mean it, it’ll blow over. Even in the very last apology when Zoya was about to leave, you could see that she had 0 faith in Julien, not only as a sister but as a person.

Which leads me to saying that Julien is probs the most interesting character of the show. She’s lovable and flawed and she is good but she as of right now, she’s mean at worst and horribly complicit at best because right now her career is a bit more important but her 14 year old sister doesn’t deserve the headache of navigating her with her. But I do love Julien because she has layers and I think by the end, she’ll be able to have her influencer career without compromising herself. That does lead us to the the chairmen and co-chair of the mean team.

Monet and Luna weren’t around as much but I do think...I do think...that if Julien goes nice, they’re gonna go super nasty. They have access to her life which mean access to that video if Julien didn’t out right delete it or they find out about it and snooping. They’re her friends but unlike her, they don’t have a much of a Conscious so far of right and wrong and they’ll strike anyone down. I think if we have wild cards, they’re it. If Julien really does go down a new path, learns more to fight for what matters and understand the real her is just as likable, the mean duo will not accept and will try and bring her down. They have their own meaning of friends with benefits.

My dude Obie, I can’t say much. I don’t think he’s as Malicious as y’all make him out to be but he is a bit callous and naïve...which could be worse tbh. I think he does want to do good but he only knows Performative good to counter-act his parents. I do want him to get with someone else but I do hope he learns what true activism means through Zoya and understand how much of a difference he could make if he really put his mind to it. I also want him to learn get out quick, because he wasn’t just looking for a reason to end things but one to stay and Julien didn’t give him that.

Audrey, I like the stuff with her mom. I like the little bit more depth we got, she slept with Max maybe but Aki made out with him, who am I to judge? I hope her mon can step up in the future but I don’t think it’ll be easy and hopefully they explore it more. Not just tease us. Her mom needs therapy but I think I'm a bit invested in her too.

Max, I love max but the dude is Pretentious ~ above earthly love ~ low key a shitty friend and talks in metaphors whenever he has the chance BUT he does it well. I don’t see him with Aki but I want it! I do see him going harder after Audrey but I think he was a bit shocked for all his flirting that he was into the kids with Aki. I think he lives to play with people. I don't know if he really likes Audrey but he does want to bang her, a lot, a lot a lot. I don't think he really wanted to sleep with Aki but he did like playing with him and he could pick up the fact that Aki might be feeling him. I don't think the interest was really, real until Aki kissed him at the pool, home boy was shocked and was like oooo maybe something is there but his focus is on the teacher. And I also think the not in a million years thing had his gears turning too. You tell him it can't or won't happen and now he wants to make it happen.

Aki, my baby, my voice of reason. What makes him great as a person, makes him not great for Audrey when it comes to emotional stuff. He means well and I get where he's coming from with wanting Audrey to understand her mom but she did need a partner. The thing she loves about him is the thing that makes it hard. I don't know how Aki was brought up but I feel like this plays into it, she's always comparing him to a therapist. I wonder if his parents a bit more emotionally cold or curt or just very analytical people. But, like he's been lovely since ep one, the only one of the group to sort of defend Zoya or Julien wanting to know her / keep her secret. (What secrets does he have?) And in ep 2, he really was like 'ya'll fucked in the head' to the mean team. I know some consider him boring because he doesn't speak up often but when he does speak up, he got something to say. I want the show to use him in a way to stir drama just by being friends, his character doesn't have to have a dramatic effect and he could get his own little subplot that's tied into the show but like, my can't become some douche. (If he does, only for a bit.) Now, I don't see Max being endgame for him AT ALL. If it's between the two, Max would go for Audrey for sure while leading my boi on in ways, he could even really start to like him but endgame no. I'd love to see a scene with Max does get jealous of Aki with another dude, in a romantic way or the dude could be hitting on him, I think Aki would be able to humble him just a bit because no one really seems to know what he's thinking. In the end, idk who he ends up with but I want him to find someone who will do my dude right and he should get some non-shitty friends who'll listen to his problems. (Still not over that Max)

The teachers while being shown more, don't have much of a presence. It's mainly Kate and the goofy one for extended scenes. KATE MY GOOD SIS. NO. Please, I want this to be the point where she loses GG somehow and someone takes over or maybe another GG pops up, can market better and isn't willing to have a faltering moments. I want it to spiral. Spiral hard. Also, sexy teach said not on my watch ezra! I stan him. Teachers are still fun for me, they make me want to never teach at a dumb rich private school.

Also, fuck the dads within reason. Esp, Julien's dad but only because we got to see Zoya's more and he is kinda in the right about most of the stuff but not the sister stuff. You can tell he's doing his best to instill morals in his daughter esp when he knows she can fall to outside influences.

Overall, I'm still enjoying it, I'm invested. I see room for growth for all of the characters (maybe not the teachers) and I want to see it play out. It does feel a little rushed but I think they're finding their footing and they have some big things to pull. But's not horrible and if they just play the drama bit longer and then conclude, it wouldn't feel that way. Maybe one more episode or half an episode could've been added to the Zoya-Obie-Julien story line to fully flush it out but I like the ending. Not sisters, not friends but cool with each and possibly re-build, at worst they just don't interact. I noticed some cool things with the promos but I need to confirm when I can find the one for 3.

Sorry if it went from all lower case to proper-ish, I had to switch to my phone and it auto-does it.