#and the picture he was talking about was a black and white western from the 60s and the notoriously colorful ncis

[swannkings]

never met a more internet, phone addicted person than my father. my mom tells me they don’t even have conversations anymore when they go out to eat because as soon as they sit down he pulls his phone out and doesn’t put it away until they leave. she just sits there in silence while he scrolls like a antisocial teen. this afternoon the technician came out to install fiber and when all the wireless things had to be reconnected my dad was fucking fiending and i swear he would’ve chased the technician down the street if nothing immediately connected.

[thebestofoneshots]

MARAUDWEEEN

Feels Like The First Time | James Potter x reader

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 6 k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, P in V, lots of praise, consent is sexy, lusty!James, bashful!James, he literally can't take his eyes off you.

Prompt: As a part of the Marauween Series, this fic takes you to an Alternate Universe where James Potter is a fireman, telling the story of how you met, and how your first time came about.

Maraudween is a Halloween-inspired anthology series where each chapter transports you into a distinct alternate universe. From the real world to old western Texas and even through the dark times of vampires. These standalone tales invite you into a realm of boundless potential. Experience the enchantment of Halloween as it weaves its spell, intertwining the magic of costumes, AUs, terror and spice.

NSFW (Smut under the cut) ♡

“What can I get you, sir?” You asked, not looking up from the register as you were trying to close the tab of the previous order. The machine had been acting up lately and no matter how hard you tried, it seemed to take its sweet time between closing an old order and opening the feed to start a new one. 

You were almost scowling at it when you heard a low chuckle from behind the counter, you instantly recognized it. The cute fireman, you felt your cheeks flush at the thought. 

“Everything all right, angel?” he asked, voice soft even as a little smirk played on his lips. 

“James!” you said with a smile, deciding to ignore the machine and talk to the man instead. He lived a few blocks away, in your same building, and he always passed by the shop to get some coffee and a snack before he finished his walk to work. Sometimes he came on his way back too, he was over so often, that you almost knew his orders by memory, “Americano?” 

He shook his head “I’m feeling up for something sweeter today.” 

You hummed in response, running his typical orders in your head “Late with a pump of strawberry?” 

He tilted his head, seemingly thinking about it, you couldn’t help to let your eyes linger over his uniform. He’d typically alternate between blue, yellow and grey. Today he was wearing grey and you would be lying if you said he didn’t look disarmingly attractive. He was big and well built too, but that was a lot easier to appreciate on hotter days when he wasn’t wearing his jacket on top of the usual either crisp white or neat black shirt, “Yeah, that’s perfect.” 

You smiled and started writing down the details in his cup. When you realised there was no one on the line behind him, you decided to prepare his drink yourself, instead of passing it over to Marcus, your coworker, and better barista between the two. James knew, and yet, he much better liked the drinks you prepared. 

“Want me to add a bit of whipped cream?” You asked. 

“You spoil me,” he said with a smile, you turned to give him a questioning look, a smile playing on your lips as he nodded, perhaps that’s why he liked your drinks best, they almost always came along with a smile. 

“You do spoil him,” Marcus added as he used one of the machines to draw pictures over a latte. 

You gave him a pout as an answer and continued with your preparation. Once it was done you turned around, Marcus had gone off to tend some table and you walked over to James, handing him his cup straight to his hands. His fingers lingered over yours as he took it from you and you felt your stomach flutter, “I’d add some cinnamon for spice,” you told him, he nodded and walked over to the sugar table, doing exactly as you told him.

“Hey, James?” 

“Hmm…?”

“Good luck at work today,” you added with a smile, Marcus from one of the tables almost rolled his eyes, while James’ smile only widened. 

There was a huge fire that day, you saw it on the news on the small TV in the corner of the shop, one of the old buildings near the centre of the city had caught fire. Since it had been during work hours there hadn’t been that many people inside, and thankfully no one died but about 2 dozen had ended up in the hospital due to smoke toxicity. Or so was reporting the news lady. 

“Do you think James’s all right?” you asked, turning to Marcus with a little frown. 

“Why don’t you go home and check on him? He lives almost in front of you anyway. This happened about an hour ago, he might be there soon...” 

You nodded, and hurried with the wiping of tables, still looking a bit nervous and rushed “I’ll finish up closing,” he added. 

“Thank you,” you said as you went to pick up your stuff and remove your uniform from the back room. 

Marcus called your name, you turned to him “Bring him something. His favourite treat of whatever… I’m sure you already know it by memory.” 

“I… Well, I mean…”  

“Don’t play dumb and just take it to him, whatever it might be. Would serve you well, maybe admit that you like him as well.” 

You flushed “Shut it, Marcus.” 

“He likes you back, did you know?” You gave him a look “Hey it’s true! I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” 

“He’s just polite.” 

“Polite my ass, he’s never looked at me like that. Go on, knock on his door, patch him up and admit your crush. Maybe get it going with him too. What do you think he’d look like with those snug pants and a pair of suspenders? Only a pair of suspenders.” 

You flushed a lot more this time around, the image floating to your brain unprompted, and you weren’t able to shake it off that easily. Curse your imaginative mind and Markus’ dirty one to put the idea in your head. 

“So… his favourite treat?” 

“It’s the lemon tart,” you admitted reluctantly. “He orders it whenever he’s feeling down. And also after bad days.” Markus smiled and leaned down to take two of them and place them on a small box for you to take home, “Thank you.” 

“Thank me when you’ve seen him with only pants and suspenders!” he joked, and you shook your head in disbelief, a smile still plastered on your face as you did. 

You got home after a short walk and went straight for a quick shower. It was then that you heard the thud of heavy boots in the hallway. He was walking towards his apartment. You hurried to finish and changed into simple shorts and a sweatshirt before walking the 2 door distance to his apartment. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

There was no answer, you considered leaving, your nerves getting the best of you, but you remembered you still had the lemon tarts and decided to try again. This time you heard some shuffling and then the door opened, revealing James, still wearing his uniform, hair clinging onto his face from sweat and blotches of soot patching his cheeks, he looked tired, but he smiled the moment he saw who it was at the door. “Fancy seeing you here, darling.” 

You swallowed, his gaze having a powerful effect on you “I… I uh… I saw the news and well, I assumed you had been there, I guess I was right,” you added after gesturing toward your face, trying to refer to how blotchy he was “I thought I’d come to check if you were all right… I also brought you some of those lemon tarts you really like.” 

He stared at you for a second, as if trying to process the fact that you really had taken the trouble to bring him food, just because he’d had a tough day. When he realised you really were there, and not only a fragment of his imagination, he smiled “You picked my favourites,” he said pointing at the box. 

You gulped, as if scared of getting caught but nodded “You… order them often,” you said with a shrug. 

He hummed “And you know all of your client’s orders?” he asked, a flirty tone slipping as he moved to the side to let you in, nodding towards the kitchen, although you already knew where it was, since the layout of his apartment was almost an exact mirror of yours. 

“Only the ones of my favourites,” you responded, which got him to raise his eyebrows as he pulled out two plates and a pair of forks, placing them on the counter. You opened the small box and gracefully served one of the pies on each of the plates, he didn’t wait too long to dig in, moaning at the sweet and acidic flavour. 

“You’re the absolute best,” he told you as he continued to eat “Getting this after a fire might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You just giggled at his exaggeration, you didn’t know he didn’t mean only the pie, but also your company. As the two of you finished your meal, you stood up to go back to your apartment but he stopped you, a hand gripping softly onto your forearm “Hey wait!” You turned to him “Let me pay you back.” 

You gasped and then shook your head. “Oh no, don’t worry about it, I get free treats since I work there.” But he didn’t let go of your arm just yet. 

You saw him bite his cheek, looking to the side as if trying to find the right words “Regardless, I–  Let me take you out, yeah?” 

“Out… to the door?” You asked with a frown “I mean I know where it is but–” 

“Out on a date.” 

“You want to– Me?!?” He nodded fervently in response. 

“So...?” 

You smiled, you were sure you were blushing madly but his nervousness only made him even more adorable “I’d love that.” 

He’d taken you to a small Italian restaurant that his friend Sirius had recommended, he told you about his life, about how he got into firefighting and you told him about yours, how you were working at the cafe as a side job to pay for your online studies. He thought you were a hero, which was almost ridiculous because if anyone was saving people between the two, it had been him. 

After that date you went on many others, he frequented the cafe a lot more often, sometimes to order something, sometimes to drop by a bouquet of roses or some other kind of flower. Markus had teased you relentlessly after that, but he really was happy to see you happy. He also started giving you treats to take home a lot more often, but that was because he knew you were always sharing them with James.  

“Thanks love, see you at dinner?” James asked as he took the takeaway coffee cup from your hands, you had written “Prongs,” and drew a pair of antlers on it just to tease him, since he’d told you about his friends giving him that nickname in school. 

You nodded in response “Sure, want me to bring something?” 

He leaned over the counter as if it were about to say something of the utmost secrecy “How about some of those chocolate tarts?” he whispered. 

“Sounds about perfect to me,” you agreed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before pulling back. He smiled dumbly after that and waved on the way out, almost bumping into a tall teacher who was also your regular. 

“Watch your step, lover boy,” he told him. That day you found out Remus –the teacher who was a regular– and your boyfriend not only knew each other, but had been best friends for the longest time. He’d told you about him many, many times, but you had no way of knowing the calm, concentrated teacher who sat on his laptop grading students was the same mastermind prankster he always called Moony. 

“So… how does he look in suspenders?” Markus asked you as he eyed your boyfriend finally leaving. 

“Oh… well, I mean… I haven’t– we haven’t-“ 

“Shut it,” he said turning to you “You’ve been dating for a while now, like 2 months, right? Didn’t you tell me you slept at his apartment the other night?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I did… I fell asleep watching the telly and he didn’t want to wake me.” 

“I thought you meant something else…” he said as he shook his head “Maybe he’s asexual,” he added with a shrug “Total bummer for you.” 

You frowned “I don’t think he– I think he’s just trying to be a gentleman.” 

Markus shook his head, unconvinced “Have you tried to initiate anything?” 

“We’ve snogged a couple of times.” 

“And when it gets more heated?” 

You shrugged “Don’t know what to tell ya.” 

He hummed “You need to try harder.” 

“I need to try?” 

“Well to find out at least, don’t you want to?” 

You shrugged it off then, but truth be told, the idea had already cemented itself in your brain. You paid closer attention to the times you snogged after that. Be it on the couch, or the counter of yours or his kitchen, it was always romantic kisses and even if he certainly seemed affected, be it his ragged breath, pink lips or expanded pupils, he never pushed for more. Perhaps he really was waiting for you to initiate things. 

A few nights later, there was another fire, you had already gotten the key to his apartment so you waited over at his, bringing over some cream puffs and setting yourself on the couch while you waited. He arrived a little late, covered in soot like he had that first time you walked into his house with lemon tarts in your hand. He smiled the moment he spotted you on his sofa “Fancy seeing you here, darling,” he teased, echoing the words he’d said that first night. 

You smiled “How are you feeling?” you asked. 

He sighed, his shoulders slumped at that “We couldn’t… One of them didn’t make it.” You frowned, you knew he’d torment himself about it all night, so you walked over to him, taking a wet towel as he sat near the counter and started wiping some of the soot from his face.

“‘S not your fault.” 

“But if we had gotten there sooner maybe–“ 

You pulled his chin, making his eyes look straight into yours “Jamie,” you said sternly, trying to ground him “It’s not your fault.” 

He sighed again “I know, I know…” he said, and buried his head in your neck, smelling your perfume as he grabbed onto your hips, “Stay over tonight?” he asked “Please, I don’t– I don’t want to be left alone with my thoughts.” 

You smiled, placing your hand on the back of his head, brushing it lightly over his messy hair before settling it at the nape of his neck “Of course, my love,” you responded simply, and pulled his shoulders back to look straight at his face “come on, let’s get to the sofa, maybe we can play something on the telly to get your mind off things.” 

He pouted “I’m sweaty, and I smell of charred wood.” 

You tilted your head, a small smile drawing on your lips “I think you look sexy,” you teased, before grabbing his hand to pull him up and towards the sofa. He had a diverted look as he followed. 

They were screening Karate kid for like the 5th time that week, but both of you were watching it patiently. That was until the commercial break started and you turned to James, he had a small frown on his face, almost imperceptible, as if he were trying to hide it from you, but you knew him well enough to know. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” 

James turned to you, a sorrowful look in his beautiful hazel eyes, “I found them, I tried, but…” You kneeled on the sofa and gave him a bone-crushing hug, or at least your version of one, since you had about half the strength he did anyway. Regardless, you heard the huff of a laugh coming from him. 

You gave one last look at the telly, they were still going on some infomercial about a magical razor, yeah, no way in hell he gets distracted by that. “Hey Jaimie,” he hummed in response “How about we find another way to get your mind off things?” you asked, pulling back a little so he could see your face.

He gave you a look, “Like playing Monopoly or…” he didn’t even finish his sentence since you crashed your lips against his with a kiss. He was surprised at first but followed the kiss shortly after. Tightening his grip on your waist. 

“Like this?” you said as you pulled out for air. He still had a bit of a frown, so you leaned into him again, determined to erase it with a kiss. He pretty much melted into you again, at some point you crossed your knee over his lap and you were straddling his thigh. You didn’t lean closer to him too fast, you wanted to give him some time. 

Your lips started to travel from his lips to his jaw, he was right, he was sweaty, you could feel the salty taste of it as you kissed, and there was something else too, a little bit of that smoked flavour going on. You didn’t care, if anything, it really made him feel sexier. You landed on his neck, and started pressing wet kisses on a section you knew from experience he liked, and you heard a low moan coming from his throat, music to your ears. 

“Wait… wait… hold up,” he said as he patted your shoulder softly, you didn’t pull back “Angel, please, I’m gross right now…”

“Don’t care,” you said between kisses “I like the way you taste.” 

He stifled grunted after you said that –partly because of what you said, partly because of the way you sucked onto a particularly sensitive part of his neck– it was hard enough for him to restrain himself as it was, and you saying things like that was only making it harder. 

You, without quite noticing what you were doing, started grinding against his leg, not quite against his crotch yet thought, you could still think enough to know it’d be too soon. You leaned back, trying to get to his mouth when you spotted him, he had a rather interesting expression on his face, brows furrowed, as if he was trying really hard to concentrate on something, or not to concentrate on something. 

You smiled, holding back a laugh before placing your hand on his cheek, he opened his eyes, a worried look on his face “James, what is it darling?” 

He swallowed, his breath was heavy, “I’m just… I’m trying not to– thinking of something else.” You raised an eyebrow at him, not sure exactly what was going on until you saw his gaze flicker down to his crotch. 

“Oh.” You said quietly, and then, in an outburst of bravery, pulled your hand down to pat him. He hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling it back.

“That– that’s going to make it worse.” 

You smiled again, tilting your head just a little as you stared at your beautiful boyfriend “Allow me,” you said softly “I want to make it worse.” He looked at you as if he was trying to decipher whether what you were saying was true, and you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek “Pretty please?” 

You had your forehead against his when he bit his lip and nodded, letting your hand free as you pushed it towards his crotch again. He was a lot harder than you had initially assumed he’d be, but you started rubbing your hand up and down regardless, feeling out his entire length which was nothing short of surprising. His head had somehow ended up on your shoulder again “fuck,” he said and trailed off with a few other curse words you weren’t sure you had heard him say before “That feels incredible Angel, You feel so good,” he whispered. 

Eventually, you pulled your hand backward and he gave you the most reproachful look, “Hey… I want to be able to kiss you,” you said softly before leaning in for a kiss and finally closing the gap between your bodies. You had been wearing a pair of simple lycra shorts, so everything felt very close when you finally leaned your hips over his, grinding your core against the rough texture of his firefighter pants. 

James was about to moan when you pulled him into a kiss again, so he moaned into your mouth, half attempting to return the kiss. His hands had now travelled to your hips, and he was helping you grind onto him, gripping almost a little too tight, not that you minded. If anything, you thought seeing this less controlled side of him was the hottest thing. 

Your hands travelled to his jacket, he’d been so lost in thought when he arrived home that he hadn’t even taken it off, but that was fine, you could help him with that now. You found the plate box and started to unbutton it one by one, he had been so engrossed in you that he didn’t notice what you were doing until you moved your hands to his inside shirt to push the thick jacket to the side. 

He helped you shrug it off and you set it to the side of the couch since you knew how much he cared for it. He gave you a smile through huddled lids and this time around he was the one pulling you towards him for another kiss. 

You went to the buttons of his pants this time around, grinding on his thigh in an effort to not stop the buildup you’d already created. “Angel what are you…?” 

“Material’s too rough,” you managed to mumble. His eyebrows knit in concern and he helped you in an instant. While he did that you fumbled with your shorts and took them off as fast as possible, not sparing a second glance to see where they fell on the floor, they were pretty ruined either way. He didn’t notice you had done that, not until you went back to straddle him and he felt the wet patch of your panties on his trouser. On his cock. 

“Fuck dove,” he said when he realized. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, almost shy, thinking he might think it was gross but he shook his head.

“Don’t be, it’s fucking hot,” he said as he grabbed onto your hips again and started sliding you against him, grinding you against him. This time there was a lot more purpose behind his movements, he was quite literally rubbing you right onto his cock, you could feel it almost in between your folds through the two layers of clothing separating you from each other. 

The room started feeling too hot, and you removed your hands from the back of his head and brought them to the hem of your sweatshirt, attempting to pull it off when his hands travelled to yours. 

He pulled back from the kiss and stared at you, searching for your eyes “You don’t have to– Not because of the…” he took a deep breath, trying to think straight “We don’t have to do this just to distract me.” 

Your expression turned soft, as you looked at him. How on earth did I get so lucky? You thought. You licked your lips, biting the bottom as you brought your hands to the side of his face. “It’s not just because of that, I want to do this Jamie, I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He swallowed. “You think that sexy little uniform does nothing to me? I’m only human James.” He chuckled, eyes averting to the side in an adorably bashful expression that you were certain only James Potter would be able to pull off. When he looked back you gave him a teasing smile “Help me?” you asked again, nodding down. 

This time it was he who bit back a grin, almost giving you a wink before he let his hands to the hem of your hoodie and helped you pull it off. He stared at you for a second. You were wearing a simple sports bra, nothing fancy, in fact, you’d dare say it was a little embarrassing since the bottom hem was frailing a bit already, but that didn’t seem to matter to James. He was staring at you as if he’d seen the hottest woman on earth. As if you had been wearing the most exquisite set of lingerie. 

You blushed, obviously, you blushed, and hid your head on his neck so he wouldn’t notice, pretending you were going for a kiss, but he stopped you. “Hold up, I wanna enjoy the view,” he complained. 

“When I’m wearing nicer underwear I’ll let you,” you said, pushing against him to go to his neck again, but he was stronger, if he didn’t want you to move, there was no way in hell you’d be able to move. 

“Darling, your underwear is the last thing I’m paying attention to,” he said honestly. You took a deep breath and allowed him to pull you back, his eyes were blown with lust as he stared at you, at your bare shoulders he’d seen a couple of times, although not many since you started going out in winter and it still was winter. At the supple curve of your hips. At your breasts, you felt his hand twitch in your shoulder, as if he was holding himself back from touching anywhere else. 

“James,” you said, getting him to turn his gaze back to your face, although you noticed it flicker down a couple of times, “You can touch.”

It was as if that had been all the permission he needed, he brought his hands down, letting them roam through your bare waist as you started to grind against him again. He was harder, if that was even possible. He groaned as you rolled your hips against his, and started trailing kisses down your neck, setting in the curve of your breasts as you continued to dry hump him. 

He could see your hardened nipples through the thin cotton fabric. He’d actually seen them harden as he kissed, and then he did something you weren’t expecting, he held your waist and pulled you up a little, you almost whined at the loss of contact, but he pushed his head forward and gave an open mouth kiss to your breast, sucking and nipping through the fabric, you were now helping him hold you up with your own legs and holding onto his strong shoulders, absolutely lost in the feeling of his mouth. 

He pulled back, giving you a mischievous look as he trailed his fingers over the frilled hem, there was almost an innocence to the way he was looking at you “May I?” he asked. 

“Please.” He was already digging his fingers under the hem and pulling it over your head. “You too,” you added, pulling at his shirt. He quickly passed his hand to the neck of his shirt and yanked it off in a second. You gulped, you’d never seen anyone take their shirt off in such a hot way. 

He was staring at you as he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you towards his face, this time licking from the underside of your breast all the way to your nipple before he closed his mouth around it and started sucking again, without the fabric in the middle you could feel his wet tongue and teeth grazing against your sensitive skin, you arched against him, and moaned his name when he bit softly. 

His other hand was already massaging your other breast, kneading it and brushing his thumb over your nipple every couple of seconds. It felt incredible, and you relished on the feeling until your neediness got the best of you, “James,” you somehow managed to form the words, and grabbed the hand that was still kneading on your breast, pulling it down, to your core “Here, please.” 

You saw him pull back to look at you, and he swallowed thickly but nodded, moving to kiss your neck as he traced his fingers over your wet panties “fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered between kisses. You gripped onto his shoulder a little harder, when he pressed his finger onto your folds, you were already pretty sensitive from so much rubbing onto his hard uniform pants that even the slightest touch had you on fire. 

After toying with you for a bit, he slid his finger through the hem and pushed your panties to the side, digging his fingers on your folds, while his thumb searched for your clit. He found it in the blink of an eye and you were pretty much bucking your hips against his hand in search of more friction. He let out a breathy laugh “So needy,” he said before setting one of his fingers near your entrance and digging it in. 

His finger was long, much longer than yours and it reached places you wouldn’t have dreamed of, he curved it in a particular way and you let out a gasp “Yes! Please, James, do that again,” you said as you panted, he obliged, and had you grinding against his hand again in no time. 

“Angel you’re too tight,” he whispered as you leaned in to kiss him again, slowly lowering yourself onto his tight. He went in for another finger as you kissed him and swallowed your whimper. He was already moving his fingers and slowly opening them inside of you, trying to prepare you, in case you wanted to continue because hell knew he did. 

He pressed his thumb against your clit again, he could feel you faltering on him, your hip movements becoming sloppier as he continued to rub “Jamie I’m gonna…” 

He kissed your neck “Please do.” 

You leaned closer to him digging your nails into the muscles of his back as you bit your bottom lip. James separated from your neck for a second to look at you, you looked fucking stunning as you whimpered and whispered his name and a few course words almost incoherently. 

“So fucking stunning,” he told you with a smile. It took you a second to come back and be able to pay attention to him, to the way he was looking at you. 

You huffed a laugh “Shut up Jamie,” you said with a smile as you shook your head, he still had his fingers inside you, and it looked like he didn’t have the intention to remove them any time soon.

“How are we doing?” he asked. 

You frowned, “Why do you– oh.” He flicked his thumb over your clit again, thrusting his fingers in and out in a rather sharp way “James you aren’t thinking of…” 

“Of course, I’m thinking of it angel, I need to see that pretty face of pure bliss on you again.” 

You almost let him convince you but you shook your head. You didn’t miss the way his smile faltered, you leaned into him, making sure to let your clit rub onto his thumb again as you shifted your weight and your hips “Not until I see yours,” you whispered in his ear, bringing your hand down to the hem of his boxers and digging your hand to grope him. 

He groaned at your harsh movement, but his head fell back, an expression rather similar to yours as you dragged your hands through his length. 

“Help James,” you said, words cut with sharp breaths from the effort you were making to pull his boxers down. He lifted his hips and helped you do it, all the while you continued pumping him. There was already a bit of white precum coating his tip, even if the boxers had sucked up most of it, you used it to allow your hand to glide easier around him. 

“Faster,” he asked, you complied, he was already bucking his hips into your hands, “fuck doll I think I’m going to– “ You instantly stopped moving your hand and his eyes snapped open, looking at you like you had betrayed him. But you didn’t give him an explanation, you used your legs to prop forwards and lined him against your entrance “Wait, doll–“ you lowered yourself onto him, “fuck.” 

You gulped, allowing yourself to adjust before giving him a look, he was looking at his cock buried in you attentively, and he swallowed thickly, you didn’t wait too much after that, and started grinding onto him, “Fuck Jamie you fill me up so good,” you whispered, as if he needed any more encouragement. You thought he did since he wasn’t moving, but that wasn’t the reason he wasn’t. 

He grabbed onto your hips, and halted your movement “fuck, angel, hold up– I need–“You looked at him worriedly, accidentally bucking your hips again as you tried to search for his eyes, and then you felt it. Wet and sticky, inside you. He’d cum.

He looked at you with the most mortified expression on his face, as if he was sorry “I’m– I’m so sorry I…” 

You just laughed, placing your hand on his cheek to prompt him to look at you “Hey, It’s okay my love.” 

“But I didn’t… Not even like 30 seconds I–“ James was completely flustered, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him that flustered before, you pulled him into a kiss. 

“I’m taking it as a cumm-pliment,” you told him, he gave you a reproachful look and you gave him a peck on the lips. A small smile wavered its way towards his lips. 

“That’s the– what a terrible pun,” he added. You bucked your hips against him again “fuck.” 

You raised your eyebrow at him “Keep insulting my puns and I won’t help you with your little issue,” you threatened playfully as you started to buck your hips again, helping him empty himself completely. This time a lot slower, enjoying the way he felt on you, the way he was filling you up, how much easier it was to glide onto him with his warm cum all over you, some of it dripping to the side of your thigh and onto his already, you continued until he patted on your tight. 

You nodded and pulled out slowly, setting yourself on his lap still. He still seemed awfully bashful, “Come on Jamie, I really don’t mind it.” 

“But it was– our first time and I… ugh” he placed his hands over his face, groaning as he replayed the events in his head.

You bit your tongue not to laugh. At least he wasn’t thinking of the fire anymore. Mission success? You sighed and placed your hands onto his own and pulled them down, tilting your head a little in search for his eyes.

 “How about…” you started, it seemed to gather some of his attention, although he was still looking at you with a dissatisfied expression “We go get a bath, and clean up…” you continued, he had finally lifted his head towards yours “we relax together a little,” you added, letting your fingers trace over his muscles, “we clean all the soot of that pretty face of yours,” you added, pinching his cheek which earned you a playful scowl from his part “and then chill for a while, see what happens next,” you finished, making sure your tone, raised eyebrows and half bitten bottom lip was suggestive enough. He looked at you, a diverted smile playing on his lips. “If it makes you feel better, we can pretend the shower was our first time instead,” you added just to spite him. 

He huffed, a smile on his face as he placed his hands on your waist and stood up, holding you against him with ease. You squealed and laughed at the sudden action “James!” you reprimanded “We didn’t even take your boots off, you’re gonna fall and drop me in the process,” he looked down and groaned when he realised it was true. Regardless he tried to jump his way before the two of you ended up back on the couch. You were laughing merrily as he huffed. 

“Come on hot fireman,” you told him with a smile “Take off those pretty boots of yours…” you smiled as you sneaked out of his grasp “I’ll meet you in the bathroom.” 

He pretty much groaned as he saw you leave, staring at your ass as you disappeared through the door. 

A/N: this one came out so much sweeter than I expected it to, but I kind of love it. It really captures that James Potter humour, doesn't it? Maraudween and The Five Senses are the anthology series where I explore writing smut, all as a way to hone my skills for the moment I write it in my Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leave it in the comments below. I absolutely love reading your comments <3

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[its--fandom--darling]

little bean - em x fem!reader

This is my submission to @oneforthemunny​‘s summertime writing game. I chose to do a wildcard 🃏 submission for cowboy eddie and sweet girl. I hope I did them justice and that everyone enjoys this sweet little story about dad!cowboy!eddie as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Pairing: Dad!Cowboy!Eddie Munson x Sweet Girl!Reader

@oneforthemunny​ @munsonology

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, reader being called little mama, afab reader, brief mention of car accident. please let me know if I’ve missed anything and I’ll update my list. (This isn’t edited. hopefully it’s all good. Enjoy!)

A/N: this is heavily inspired by personal experience with one of those ride and spring ponies that my sister and i had growing up. all header pictures are from pinterest, credit to the og owners of the photos. graphics by @firefly-graphics​

“Can you please uncover my eyes now?” you plead with your fiance as he guides you outside to see his latest surprise. You and Eddie had never really talked about having kids, always considering the many farm animals that you’d convinced him to adopt over the years as your pseudo-children. So when you’d found out that you were pregnant after a fender-bender, you and Eddie had the realization that you both wanted this little bean to be a part of your life. 

This brings you to now, 6 months into your pregnancy. The morning sickness had wrecked you for a while and your cravings had been intense and random. Pickles and peanut butter, sardines and fiddleheads, copious amounts of cheese doodles. But Eddie had taken everything in stride, making the 20 plus minute drive into town to hit the only 24 hour mini mart in the area whenever the urge for a midnight milkshake struck you. He’d truly been a saint, he’d always been good to you, treated you like a princess, but seeing you round with his child had unleashed another side of him, one that was incredibly tender. Without hesitation the two of you had decided to be surprised when the baby came, knowing that no matter what you had, it wouldn’t change the fact that you two were going to spoil, cherish and raise your little bean to be a kind person.  

“Just be patient for a second more, little mama. I don’t wanna spoil the surprise just yet,” he murmured, a grin evident in his voice. 

You huffed in fake annoyance, crossing your arms after the screen door, thwapped shut behind the two of you. 

“Alright, ready?” 

“Yes, Eds! The suspense is killing me!” you squeak, bringing your hands up to grab at your man’s calloused hands where they rested over your eyes. 

He chuckles as he lets his hands be pulled from your eyes. You blink a few times to adjust your vision before taking in his latest surprise. In your silence, your feel him lace his fingers with yours as you feel the familiar burn of tears in your eyes. 

“I know little bean won’t be able to use it for a while after they’ve made their grand entrance, but it was the last one in the store and sweet girl, I just couldn’t resist.”

You turn and kiss him softly. “It’s perfect, I love it.”

Sitting on the front porch is a ride and spring horse, almost identical to the one that you’d described to Eddie. You’d been telling him how, despite being a city girl, had spent many of your earliest summers of childhood at your grandparents. They lived in the countryside in a big white farmhouse style house.  Your grandfather was always a fan of black and white westerns, so you’d watched more than your fair share while your granny took her afternoon nap. You’d expressed to Eddie that those were some of your favorite childhood memories, especially when you’d arrived one day to find a beautiful chestnut colored ride and spring pony on your grandparents front lawn. The image of his sweet girl as child with little pigtails and her grandfather’s cowboy hat slipping down over her eyes as she bounced away the afternoon on that horse had made his heart clench. 

“Really? It isn’t too much? I know that I’ve been spoiling little bean and they ain’t even arrived yet but…”

You cut him off with a sweet kiss, cupping the back of his neck with your free hand and pouring your love and appreciation into the kiss. “It’s perfect,” you repeat as your lips part and he breaks into a grin as you bump your nose against his affectionately. “Thank you, for the horse and for taking care of me and bean. Thank you for listening to me and remembering those little details I shared with you.”

He grins wider, eyes crinkling with it. “It’s my pleasure, sweet girl. You two are my whole world.”

You grin at him, “You forgot about Medusa, can’t have her feeling left out now.” 

He chuckles and rolls his eyes at you, “Well, you’re right about that, sweet girl.”

You kiss him again. “Always am, aren’t I?”

He rolls his eyes, “I’ll give you most of the time, little mama.”

You smirk up at him, “I’ll take it. Now come on and show me what else you got.”

He furrows his brow at you, “What are you talking about?”

“I just know you didn’t leave the store with just that toy, lay it on me, what else did you get?” 

He sighs, “You know me far too well, sweet girl.”

“It’s because I love ya handsome, now show me the goods.”

He chuckles as you settle on the porch swing he’d installed for you when you’d first moved in with him. “I’ll get the bag.”

You giggle and kick your feet up resting your hands on your bump, stroking your thumb over it tenderly as Eddie ran to the pick up to grab the rest of his haul. As you watched him go through everything that he picked up for your future child, you knew that there was no way that you would wanna do this with anyone but your Eddie. 

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(Read more sacrifice)

[uselessheretic]

but also bouncing off of this with ed, racialized masculinity, and rage (and i'm using that term specifically and for a reason) one of the other parts i think is fascinating is the way that rage is dangerous. not to an individual but to the oppressive structures surrounding us.

moc and anger is something that has always been policed and their image in media has to be crafted to fit a specific ideal. i'm taking a look at this through the lens of a biracial african-american, but if you look at the history of how black men are depicted in media you see a stark change occur upon the abolition of slavery. during slavery, the image of enslaved people that was promoted were those of a happy and content group of people. they were infantalized and portrayed as child-like and mentally deficient. you can see gone with the wind as an example of "the happy slave" myth. there's a great teen vogue article you can read if you wanna see more about the myth and how it relates to current pop culture. you can also read more about caricatures and the way they're still normalized currently with mascots of aunt jemima and uncle ben in this op-ed. but like all caricatures, they serve a purpose and fulfill a need of white supremacy. when it came to the happy slave, it was to push the idea that black people were content in slavery, that slavery was a civilizing process that was actually white people helping them, and that the only kind of work black people were capable of is physical labor, that any other kind would make them unhappy.

you can see similarities actually with the way māori men are spoken about and locating their use to physicality. when māori schools (in traditional western sense) were first opened, māori students scored just as well as the european lead schools. white people actually literally forced them to change their curriculum to be labor based completely because anything else was thought of as too complex for their simple minds or some bullshit like that. there's a great paper by brendan hokowhitu "The Death of Koro Paka: “Traditional” Mäori Patriarchy" that goes in depth about the white supremacist fetishization of māori physical labor.

in the same way that māori school curriculums were changed, the happy slave myth was a way for white supremacy to maintain a status quo that naturalized using poc for hard labor while patting themselves on the back for doing them a favor. for a long period of time in america, black rage and anger was erased. it was hidden from white eyes to shield them from having to face the reality of their brutalization. this is why frederick douglass was so revolutionary, btw. he pulled back the curtain on the myth, showing these caricatures as the shadow puppets they were, forcing white people to look at the brutality they were inflicting on real human beings.

the abolition of slavery changed this image. it's like it underwent a PR campaign overnight (which it kinda did) where suddenly pictures of slaves singing with huge grins were replaced with the image of animalistic, out of control, absolutely furious black men. part of this was from a white paranoia projecting their anxiety that black people will come at them for revenge from slavery. but the main reason for this was because of a caveat in abolition that still allowed slavery in the case of incarceration. (the 13th is a documentary on netflix that goes in depth on this!) you can't say that you're enslaving people because they like it and it makes them happy anymore, so what do you do? you change that narrative. it's not to keep them safe, it's to keep you safe especially your women safe. jim crow laws are rolled out, black men in the south are either incarcerated or lynched (the great migration from the south was fleeing white terrorism!) the myth of the angry, violent, savage negro takes form.

the point i'm making related to ed, beyond the history lesson, is related to that idea of white fear of moc's anger. when we talk about the anger of moc, we don't erase it. that's already happened before, and it was used against us. instead we lean into the idea of what makes white people so fucking shook at the idea of an angry moc.

a huge part of this that i think is very relevant to ed is the need for the state to control him. piracy is disruptive as fuck. a huge portion of pirates were ex-navy who left because they no longer wanted to put up with how fucking shitty the navy is to their men (no, it wasn't for radical reasons 😭) piracy also had a large amount of black people fleeing slavery too! one of the reasons black pirates were so scared of capture was because unlike their white counterparts, they wouldn't be hanged, they'd be brought to plantations. if you want to read an interesting article about piracy and race i'd suggest this one! it's untrue to say that piracy was an aracial utopia, but the history of it is complex and fascinating. (fun fact, blackbeard actually gets cited sometimes as one of the pirate ships that were a lot more equitable with race where the famous pirate black ceasar served upon his ship. this does not mean blackbeard wasn't horrifically racist. he still sold slaves and raped black women. do not mistake this for him being an antiracist legend)

pirates were able to operate outside of state control and this was terrifying. at times, they would work with the navy, also a fun fact. hornigold is famous for attacking spanish ships and leaving the british ones alone, meaning england just kinda looked the other way lmao.

but for ed (the character) i think this is what grants blackbeard so much power in a way that just plain old edward teach would never be able to harness. all the way up the chain, blackbeard is feared, and blackbeard is respected. the mere chance that blackbeard would be willing to take an act of grace and concede that power to the king is so lucrative that even an admirals subordinates are willing to go against him for it. to have blackbeard under english control is the greatest propaganda anyone could've offered them.

i think i said this yesterday, but as a powerless child being told that he can't have fine things, that's just how it is, it can feel like your only two options are either anger or despair. ed chose anger, and by doing so, ed chose survival. he can despair over his surroundings or he can get angry, say fuck this, join a pirate ship, and go ham. he can despair over his mother's abuse, or he can get angry. angry that she's treated like this. angry that his father is so cruel. angry that there is nobody who is willing to help them. angry enough to kill your father. not because ed is, at his core, a violent person, but because, at his core, he's a loving one who will kill off a part of himself if it means keeping his mother safe. ("when you kill, you die as well.")

and not just anger, but rage? it's powerful. it's the natural conclusion for having even the slightest awareness of your circumstances as a moc, and it's in the states best interests to quell that as much as possible. not to be like "malcolm x said" but also malcolm x said "Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change." and i think there's something to that with ed, where he's trying to change the circumstances of his life to no longer be a nobody. that anger has served him well over the last few decades, his path has scorched a legacy, but it's also burned him out on the way. something stede offers to him alongside retirement is the possibility that he may be able to let that go. doesn't have to hold onto that anger anymore and wield it like a weapon. maybe love can be enough?

and in this case, it doesn't work out for him. there's many reasons why, but a big one is that ed hasn't yet done the introspection necessary to move forward. he struggles with acknowledging his past (he frequently forgets his acts of cruelty) and although he may be ready to let that go, it's not so easy. it clings to him. also why i think izzy's role is so important and not just black and white villainy. what he and izzy had worked. for decades it served them both well. but now it doesn't anymore and ed wants to let that go, but it isn't that easy to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. izzy is his reminder of that, good and bad.

i mentioned malcolm x earlier, and it feels worth it to bring up how much a disservice history does to his legacy where he's painted as angry with no other nuance. they called him the angriest negro in america. there's also a fascinating legacy within the black male community of attempting to claim him for black masculinity at the expense of others, but malcolm x was also a loving husband and father, and a huge proponent for self-love. his love was complex, and it was only after he began to start making connections globally and start advocating for a more nuanced approach of black radical politics that he was assassinated.

ed is angry, and in that anger is power, but it's also exhausting. he wasn't wrong that love and vulnerability is something that will heal him, but he also hadn't yet done the work of examining his own internalized self-hatred, despair, loneliness, and anger. he's not going to have a fairytale ending where stede swoops in and rescues him from the evils of piracy, but will need to dig deeper into his emotional roots and connect with that same complexity of love that figures like malcolm x embodied.

this will probably look different for ed though since there are māori practices specific to that self journey of healing. Te Whare Tapa Whā is a model of health and wellbeing that takes a holistic māori and indigenous approach to health that positions five tenets as necessary for one's health.

i don't feel like i can do it justice summarizing it since it's focused on five culture specific concepts, but here's a neat link!

this is something i try to keep in mind when writing ed and his healing. even if i'm not naming the model specifically, i think it's great to check back in on "is ed getting these five needs?"

i would highly recommend reading more about māori approaches to mental and physical health where the trauma of colonization is something that is brought to the forefront of needing to be addressed to heal. not only that, but how strong a backlash this receives from white groups because acknowledging that pain and history is dangerous to white supremacy.

but ed's relationship to emotion is something i really love about the show. rage and anger threatens the control of the british empire. it wreaks havoc across the seas and makes a mockery of their power. with ed though, when he's able to take control over the navy and for a brief moment becomes the most powerful person on that naval ship, is the act of grace. an action born from his love of another person. it feels so? hopeful and kind. and it wouldn't hit as hard if there weren't those moments of pain. after all, ed's desire for softness becomes all the more meaningful when we know he's use to only being treated roughly. that contrast is what keeps us feeling.

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Tokyo Revengers but Mikey has the same coping mechanism as Sunny (Omori)

It's an incomplete post so anyone can add things if they want!

'Manjiro' will be used to talk about irl!Mikey while 'Mikey' will refer to Headspace!Mikey

Sanzu is called Haruchiyo and takes on Basil's role (aKa he's important but Mikey doesn't want to either make him tag along/a member of the party or to confine him on the picnic blanket)

'Sanzu' would be The Stranger

Takemichi also has The Stranger role (in timelines where he truly left an impression on Mikey - so probably not in the first two unfortunately)

Shinichiro and Emma both play Mari's role

-> Shinichiro & Takemichi being the only one to call Mikey Manjiro

Senju and Izana share a common role (in Bonten)

The party is made of Toman founding members

Baji, Kazutora, Pah-chin have a dynamic similar to Aubrey and Kel

Draken takes on Hero's role, Mitsuya too, a bit

Draken is the one who takes pictures!!! (like in canon :) )

-> "Did I take this photo? Something about it feels so familiar... No... Emma, she's-"

(Draken has little flags to make Mikey (or other party members) happy during fights)

(Mitsuya is the one who can cook)

Unbread Twins = Kawata Twins (with their ramen shop ofc, no bakery here)

other members are a bit scattered everywhere, mostly the playground ofc (which is a mix of: Toman's gathering place, the playground Baji&Mikey used to play in as children with a huge jungle gym), and the garden and dojo in the Sano house)

There's also the beach which can be reached mostly by Toman members

There's a train but they move around in motorbikes (and Mucho's car)

Motor shop to fix the bikes! Shinichiro can be found there with other BD members :)! (for some reasons, Mikey doesn't like it when Baji and Kazutora are there, so they have to find alternatives to fix their bikes (most of the time they ask another party member to take their bike))

Somehow, Manjiro subconsciously remember the story of Taiyaki-kun so there's a lake where Taiyaki-kun lives (he wants to leave but he can't :( )

It's the dreamworld so everyone is happy and has good relationships with everyone else

Somwhere there's a plane. It doesn't fly, but it's there, lying on the ground. It mustn't broke. (when it does, it leads to Blackspace) (Sanzu always tries to lead Mikey here)

Manjiro/Mikey don't fear a lot of things but things that may upset/trigger them are: mirrors/any type of reflection; whenever he sees a plane (won't make him go back to Whitespace but it's really close sometimes); (people needing to go to the) hospitals (no matter if it's bc they're sick or badly hurt) & probably other things but they don't come to mind sorry

Mikey's 'Something' is just.. everyone. They're all horrifying in a different way, but each person Mikey has failed haunts him (emphasis on Izana & Senju during Bonten)

The Somethings telling him 'I love you' in Blackspace 🥹

Important flowers would be black lilies (curse), and red and white spider lilies at the very end :) (Red spider lilies symbolizing the inability to meet again, farewell, death, loss, abandonment and White spider lilies symbolizing rebirth, meeting (anew), purity)

Also poppies since in Hanakotoba they can symbolize fun-loving and success, and in the more Western flower language they symbolize peaceful sleep and death, remembrance/remembering the fallen and renewal/resurrection among other things

(not a flower professional - just did some google researches so be careful with what I'm saying)

Whitespace:

Old blanket

NES (that he irl has in his bedroom and must hold a lot of memories of family/friends game night)

Mewo being replaced by Peke-j? But Mikey is not close to Peke-j(/not that close from Chifuyu (unlike other ppl)) from what we know. Peke-j could also be used as a way to show how guilty Manjiro is about Baji (and Chifuyu? Kazutora?)

moto figurines laying around? Little flags?

Probably wouldn't have a laptop

The journal+drawings stay tho. He deserves to vent

Deserves to keep the tissue box and cry, too

Blackspace:

Mikey goes in and out of it; he never chooses if he pops up in Whitespace, Dreamworld or Blackspace. It depends on how is his mind irl. There are also some places where he can directly enter it (ex: whenever the Concorde is broken)

Haruchiyo keeps dying. Or having his lower jaw removed out of nowhere (also happens in headspace -> leads Mikey to go back to Whitespace on the spot)

If we do put Peke-j in this AU as Mewo replacement, which choice do you think Mikey would make in the Cat dissection room with our dear mister the Cat Butler? /genuine

The three first timeline are very similar. Senju and Haruchiyo/Sanzu have a lesser role here. In the 3rd/Bad Toman, Kazutora is here and is hurt less by Mikey (whereas if he ever is present in the two firsts, Mikey won't be merciful)

Manila:

"You loved them and you killed them. You should just die." — hits more in this timeline than any other

Rather than Manjiro completely loosing against Mikey; there's a feeling of acceptance at the end of their fight from both parts. They can't go back, but they can't go further either.

Plus, Manjiro never fought for a will to live to start with

Actually I'm not sure if there'd be a fight to start with

Izana, S62 & Kakucho are not present in the headspace of this timeline

Bonten:

there's an entire space dedicated to Senju and Izana. It's filled with always-falling snow and everlasting sakura; the party can make snowmen and other snow constructions! There's a pond with a giant majestic beta fish somewhere, too (maybe it could interact with Taiyaki-kun, maybe not)

Edit: They live in a snow castle

those two are either safe in this place (*cough* until the snow and sakura start to get tainted by blood out of nowhere and they disappear and the flowers wilt *cough* The snow melts a bit under the warmth of blood and suddenly it's less a childhood joy and more just... Hellishly cold. bc the cold refuses to leave ofc *cough*) or with Shinichiro and Emma on the picnic blanket. Kakucho is always found around Izana so he can be found in the snow, too! (He's the one staying there when Izana & Senju disappear; he's panicking and extremely worried)

*cough* canonical Oyasumi ending *cough*

Timeline where the Somethings are the most troublesome and present

eat irl then go puke in the toilet

sleeps less and sleeps badly

Kanto Manji & Final timeline:

Still developing, mostly Whitespace

Mikey and Manjiro are not two different entities yet - Manjiro is not at that point where he suppresses all of his traumas when he's in the Dreamworld as Mikey

not a great emphasis on Senju since she doesn't die, but she's still there, having a lesser role

Draken, on the other hand- (it doesn't last long anyway since he travels back in time no long after)(I mean. it's still three months so maybe it's a bit long)

The "I have to tell you something"-timeline/ending, if there has to be one

[suffarustuffaru]

Have you ever heard of or played an official rezero mobile game called Lost in Memories?The game features a story that is a retelling of the anime and it also divided into 3 chapters: "Main Story"，"Ver. Main Story" and "IF Route". The game features branching paths that lead Subaru to a different outcome of the story，turning into a "What IF" scenario.

But what intrigued me the most was arukoru, a character who looks exactly like suabru, but is much more cold and heartless and supposedly comes from the failed loop  where subaru had tried to defeat Petelgeuse.It's really interesting and refreshing for me to see a different version subaru not from those if routes of canon novel series,and I really like arukoru's characterization and identity, but it's a shame that he's barely mentioned and discussed in either Japanese or Western fanbase.

ANON IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED BC FROM WHAT IVE SEEN OF LOST OF MEMORIES IM QUITE FOND OF IT (though i dont know everything oops T^T) AND ALSO IM QUITE FOND OF ARUKORU/ALCOR. ALMOST NO ONE TALKS ABOUT HIM SO I KIND OF HALF THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY PERSON WHO KNEW ABOUT HIM ALJSFLJS

but yes. i sadly have not played lost in memories and i have not watched Every Second of it unfortunately hah but!!! the branching paths it has are very interesting <3 and alcor is definitely very interesting to me, even though i dont know every detail on him. and okay for anyone seeing this and doesnt know who alcor is, you can have a picture of him:

look at him with his thigh highs and galaxy sword fr............. what a guy.....

i think like a year or two ago i actually made like a small drawing redesigning his mask just bc i didnt like it lajsdlfjd. i love the jagged purple "scar" in the mask and the black feathers and the piercing eye but it does not look very visually appealing to me. imo. so i think i redesigned it to be like a skeleton mask of a ground dragon (and yeah one of the eyes had that jagged scar still) to still incorporate the white + feathers? and also bc he seems to be using similar looking skeletons in this photo for reasons i dont know?? is that his power?? but anyway yeah. otherwise i think his design is kind of. a banger? just a bit HAH.

anyway so. yeah like what anon said - alcor's another version of subaru thats turned out this way bc hes from a failed timeline where he tried to fight and defeat petelgeuse and he died like. Way too much. but also alcor is like?? an "illusion" at the same time?? created by this purple haired elf lady?? who was in turn created by this green haired elf lady whos teamed up with subaru to help him recover his memories bc "lost in memories"?? okay if anyone knows the full story behind this please feel free to explain if youd like aljdflsjdf. but i think its interesting seeing - you know, another version of subaru appear in the "main story". like i think alcor is kind of similar to amnesiabaru in this lense - iirc alcor seems to insist that hes the real one, but its kind of. tragic. bc hes kind of not the real one at the same time, if he really is an "illusion"?????? but also he IS another version of subaru, one that grew cold and empty and jaded. hes so Tired, i just kind of. pity him.

i considered using him for a fic once aljdsfljs along with using some other slightly more obscure / underrated versions of subaru (such as aganau subaru yeah) but that fic never got off the ground iirc but yeah. i think hes interesting and definitely another way to explore like. a version of subaru that has a complicated relationship with subaru. like not just HIMSELF, but you know - MAINBARU. its interesting, i think, that hes defensive. that he seems to have this chip in his shoulder. and hes definitely rough at the edges bc his whole design shows that - not just in like an edgelord way bc of all the black and purple lajsdlfj (and even then its a fun contrast to his normal black/white/yellow color scheme) but theres the bandage on his arm, the mask, the name change (alcor), the when he takes off the mask, theres dark circles under his eyes. dude is tired and i think hes distant from himself too bc hes, well. Alcor now - not entirely subaru.

and also yeah he died a shit ton of times to petelgeuse.... poor dude. needless to say i am a big fan of all versions of subaru and his many flavors of Identity Issues.

Live Mindful of Death (死を意識して生きる Shi o ishiki shite ikiru): Live Mindful Of Death is a second Authority which allows Alcor to recreate or force changes in the timeline after his death if it does not end how he wants it to end. He can alter events or prevent possible situations which can completely change the timeline to his liking. This even works on realms where time is non-existent. The change during a reset are strong enough to bring back the world after it's destruction and revive or recover anyone no matter their condition.

Memories: For some unknown reason, anyone who has some intense bond or connection with Alcor will slightly remember past iterations of the timeline before it is reset, similar to Deja Vu. Though knowledge is limited, it can help them predict future events which is extremely useful to any allies of Alcor as they can predict what will happen next, unless the timeline was changed far different from it's previous incarnation. It can also be used in a fight to throw of his opponent by using an attack they didn't predict or fighting in a way he hadn't done before.

Penalties: The butterfly effect of Alcor's reset is completely out of his control. This means that any changes Alcor's Authority produces can be manipulated, what happens beyond said time is completely unknown. Future events could happen entirely differently after he changes the timeline and nothing like his prediction. He would have to use the ability again if he wished to change the timeline to his preference.

^^^ ALSO REZERO WIKI SAID THAT ALCOR HAS THIS ABILITY??? IS THIS REAL??? THATS KIND OF. TERRIFYINGLY INTERESTING?? LIKE THIS KIND OF POWER IS INSANE GODDAMN.... CAN YOU IMAGINE THE BUTTERFLY EFFECTS THIS WOULD HAVE....?????

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Just for the Weekend 8/10

Summary: You and Jason go to a wedding.

Pairs: Reader x Jason Todd

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Fluff, swearing.

Part 7

Jason and yourself take your seats to the left of the makeshift altar. Your eyes sweep over the large garden adorned in even more flowers, twinkling lights and golden ribbons than you knew possible. The afternoon sun streams through the palm trees that Jamie and Sunny have chosen for their backdrop and as the western wind blows through you can almost feel the magic in the air. Weddings are always like this, you think, full of magic and love.

Jason's arm rests naturally around the back of your chair. Your brain is still going over the last few minutes, the kiss, the casual way he held your hand as you walked down to the garden. It's a lot to process, but you don’t want to ruin it by talking about it or over thinking. So instead you clasp your hands together and wish that the weekend would never end.

The chatter of the other guests quiets down as the celebrant announces that the bride will be arriving soon. Jamie spots you in the crowd, looking so happy in the dress they’ve chosen, the dark, deep forest green almost black against the sun, the crisp white shoes peeking from underneath. You give them a big thumbs up, noticing the tears already forming in their eyes as the pianist starts to play a slower version of "this is what dreams are made of".

The bridesmaids all look lovely in their soft lilac gowns of all different styles, the large sunflower bouquets with colourful wildflowers woven through, they look like a trail of beautiful fairies. The pianist rounds the chorus and you start to weep at the sight of Sunny. Her golden dress glitters with every step she takes, a large pointed tiara on her head, her hair held in soft waves behind her, she looks every bit the fairy queen of the procession. Peering back at Jamie you see they're full on crying at how etheral Sunny is.

"Here," Jason says, pulling out his pocket square and handing it to you, "don't want to ruin the makeup."

You give him a small smile, dabbing under your eyes and taking his hand in your free one, giving him a little squeeze, "Thanks for coming," you whisper.

Leaning over to press a kiss into your hair he whispers, "best decision of my life."

The ceremony is short, Jamie and Sunny exchange vows and suddenly they're walking down the aisle and inviting everyone to cocktail hour while they have their pictures taken.

"I'm just going to go touch up my face," you excuse yourself, "will you be ok by yourself?" finding yourself in need of a minute to compose yourself. You have so many questions for him, for yourself. At the very least you need to wipe the dopey ass smile from your face. You can’t seem to shake it, can’t stop hearing those words he whispered in your ear.

"Yeah, I'll go find Margie. She was great. Wait," he says as you start to walk off. "I forgot," he kisses you, a short simple peck on the lips but it makes your tummy do somersaults.

Jason spots Margie almost immediately, her bright pink suit giving her away almost as much as her height. She's at a table alone, drinking what looks to be sangria, "bit sad to drink alone at a wedding don't you think?" He asks, taking the seat opposite her.

"On the contrary, keeps me out of trouble." She smirks, downing the whole glass and pouring herself and Jason another. "Drink with me then, tell me about how you managed to sweep my little dear off her feet."

"I was actually wondering if I could ask you something," he takes a drink and relishes the sweetness.

"Want more stories about her rambunctious youth?"

"I would like to know what he, Jonathan, said to her last night,"

"Want to go hit him yourself?"

"Something like that,"

"No need for that, she defended you well."

"What?"

"She didn't tell you? Oh, he was saying terrible things, but our little spitfire wasn't having it."

"Wait what?" He can't seem to wrap his head around it. You hit…you hit the guy because of him?

"Poor dear, she lets him say the worst things about her, but the second he started on you," She pauses, "well you saw what happened."

"I thought she- that he-"

"She really loves you, ya know, I can see it in the way she looks at you."

"I- "

"You're very lucky, she's a special kind of woman."

"That I do know," he agrees, finally hearing something that doesn't sound insane. Why would you do that?

"Now be a good lad and go get me more sangria."

"Yes ma'am."

Jason's mind spins as he goes over what he just heard. So you did it to defend him and not yourself. He can barely believe that anyone would care, but then she said… was it true? Did you love him? Until yesterday you could barely stand to be in the room with him.

Then there was the kiss, that kiss on the balcony that made his stomach spin and his knees go weak. And the little kiss before, he can barely believe this is happening. He's not going to screw this up. He can't. Shit, after a few kisses he doesn't think he can go a day without feeling your lips on his ever again.

"Hello there handsome," you say, grabbing the glasses from the bar, "Margie already got you doing her evil bidding I see,"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" He answers, looking at you kind of weird, in a good way. Like he's got stars on his eyes.

"Sangria, always was her drink of choice."

Xxx

"Can you see my name?" You say as you peer at the seating chart.

"Yeah, right here. It says second prettiest woman at the wedding,"

"Second?"

"Well, the bride obviously has to be first," he jokes.

"Thin ice, Todd. You're on thin ice," you playfully glare at him. His hand falls to your lower back as you walk to your table. You try not to think about how right this feels, how perfect he feels beside you. Instead zoning in on the small table which is obviously designated as the old school friends table. You thank Batman that Jonathan was sent home, you do not want to deal with him.

"Can I ask a favour?" Claire says as she sits down next to you, "just while Lizzie is fixing her hair?"

"Depends on the favour," you can see Jason from the corner of your eye peering around you. Is he worried that maybe this will be round two? Sure, you were a bit envious, or a lot. But you had never felt the urge to hit her. The issues you have with Claire have nothing to do with her and everything to do with you and your own expectations.

"Could you sign this for me?" She pulls out from her purse a copy of your first book, "I've been meaning to ask for ages. But we just never seem to bump into each other."

"I didn't know you read my book,"

"I tried, but romance really isn't for me. Lizzie though, she loves them and it would really mean alot-"

"Give it here, have you got a pen?"

"Yeah," she hands you a golden marker from her purse, "I know it's not a great time to ask, but I really appreciate it. She’s going to be thrilled."

"It's really no trouble, " you smile signing the interior cover, "Dear Liz, I hope Claire brings you as much joy as Red brought me,"

"Thank you, she's really going to love this," she grins like a kid in a candy store. "It really means a lot,"

"You're welcome," you beam back. Never in a million years would you have imagined that Liz of all people would be a fan. She's never said anything, though you suppose with avoiding them at all costs you probably didn't deserve to know. A nudge on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, "yes?" You turn to Jason who's just looking at you with confusion and wonder, "why are you looking at me like that?”

"Red? I thought your first book was about Finnley and Felix? "

"How do you know that?" You narrow your eyes at him.

"I told you, I dabbled. I may have read one or two of your books, "

"One or two? But you know the names of the two love interests by heart?"

"Maybe, I read them more than once,"

"You did not,"

"Enough about me," Jason attempts to change the subject. You did not need to know that he had read all your works, except one apparently, "Who's this Red? And how is there a book before The Prince Problem?"

"Oh, that's the official first. But The Red Viper is my first unofficial book. I published it myself in college under a pseudonym. I just wanted to see how it would go. It sold pretty well, I just didn't think any of my friends aside from Jamie had read it."

"Then how did she know it was you?"

"Easy, I released free coupons for copies in my newsletter a few years ago, Liz must be on my mailing list.”

“Free?”

“Yeah, I do that sometimes. There’s no point charging for something like that."

"A huh, and has Dick read this book?"

"Jason, are you telling me you think Dick can read?"

"Good point,"

The night drifts on, speeches are told, cakes cut and dinner eaten. All the while Jason sits close, both of you touching, your knees, your hands, your shoulders, always touching. It's easy and it doesn't even feel fake anymore. Not that it ever really did to you.

The band picks up after the newlyweds first dance and the lead singer invites everyone to the dance floor. You feel reluctant, but with how pleasant the conversation has been between Claire, Liz, Jason and yourself, your mood has gone from nervous to joyful.

The band starts to play your favourite song and you find yourself tugging Jason onto the dance floor behind you.

He's certainly not his brother when it comes to dancing, but he manages to keep up with you. His hand never leaving your waist as you move to the music together. “What kind of move do you call that?” you ask when he starts twirling his arms around.

“Whirlybird?’ he laughs back, grabbing your arms and spinning them above your head, “Might not look cool, but it’s fun,”

His hands slide down your arms, taking your wrists and wrapping them around his neck as you stay to sway together.

“You know you’re a lot more fun,” you start when he spins you under his arm, “when you don’t spend your days glaring at me,”

“And you’re more fun when you don’t run away from every room I enter,”

“I never did that,” he stares down at you, “ok, maybe once or twice,” he raises his eyebrows, “Or a few times,” you press your hand on his chest, “in my defense, you did stare at me like I was robbing you.”

“You were,”

“I was not trying to steal your brother,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh love,” he brushes his nose against yours, “You were stealing something much more valuable than my big brother,”

“Oh yeah like what?” you tease, “Your bike?”

“Sweetheart,” he leans down, “You wouldn’t be fast enough to take her,” his breath in your ear, “And you still don’t know how to ride,”

“Fair. Maybe I can get Dick to teach me when I get home?” the choking noise that comes from Jason's throat makes you snort, “What? He’s been asking for ages,” you wink coyly, drawing yourself from his hands and giggling when he turns you back in.

“Let me teach you,” his hand slides up from your back, his fingers brushing up the back of your neck,

“You going to glare at me while you do it?”

“Only if you run away,”

“Will you chase me?”

“Would you like me to chase you?” his fingers push into the soft skin of your neck tilting your head up.

“Maybe,” you reach up onto your tiptoes, grinning from ear to ear, your lips touching his. His hand grows firmer on your neck, deepening your kiss, you wrap your arms tight around his back.

“That a shiver there love?” he laughs into your kiss, his other arm wraps around your waist, “Do it again,” he hoists you up, your feet dangling above the floor as he kisses you again.

The night gets later and despite how drunk everyone around you seems to be getting, you and Jason are too busy enjoying yourselves on the dance floor to have the time. "Last song," the singer announces, "how about something a bit slower?"

The band starts out slow and you hear the man's voice lower as he starts to sing Adele's make you feel my love.

Jason pulls you close, his hand holding tight on your waist, bringing yours up to his shoulder, "wanna see what Alfie taught me?" He winks and you give him a small nod, "follow my lead,"

He steps back, gliding you along the dance floor, his eyes never leaving yours and a bright smile on his lips. The hot and horny feelings leave you as you feel something deeper and stronger pulling at your chest. Like a string being tugged from your heart and wrapping around where your hands meet, connecting you both together. The world melts away as you get lost in his eyes and the feel of his strong hand on your back.

“Spin,” he says, stretching your arm out as the song reaches it crescendo and you spin out, your dress fanning out around you and when your back in his arms he drops you into a deep dip, his large hand on your thigh, his full form leaning over to meet your lips, his tongue dives into your mouth and you think you might just feel whole for the first time in your life.

Part 8:

AN: Last update for a bit. I'm off to Sydney to hang out with my fam.

Taglist:

@goblinhobo @bubbles-incorrect-yb @hungry-hungarian @megumisbabymomma @ilikw @gone-batty-fics

[jonathanwrotethis]

The Rhoscolyn Coastal Path

I finally fell asleep a little after 1am last night - after lying in bed listening to noises in the roof-space of the ancient cottage we’re staying in. A furious guest had written a review on the agent’s website complaining about a mouse infestation that nobody else seemed to have experienced, or found. I figured it out.

The hot water and heating system for the cottage obviously has pipes retro-fiitted through the rafters - some of which run through the bedroom ceiling. Anybody that’s every lifted their floorboards or re-built ceilings knows that pipes are usually cut into rafters. Guess what happens when pipes get hot? They expand. Guess what happens when a pipe expands, and is cut into rafters that might have swollen over time? It sounds exactly like something running across the roof space. Only it doesn’t - unless it’s a clock-work mouse that keeps a perfect pace, or that accelerates to 60 miles per hour when the heating periodically kicks in.

If you’re wondering how I could tell the difference to the real thing, it’s because we HAD the real thing in our roof space a few years ago. A tile came off the roof, and we had visitors for a few weeks. I poisoned them all (I know, I’ll go to hell), and we had the roof fixed - but for those few nights, we heard them.

Anyway.

This morning was an exercise in learning to slow down. After I had got up, had a shower, got dressed, made coffee, fixed the roman blinds in the living room (I wonder how long they had been broken for?) and sat in the garden listening to the local radio, my other half appeared in her PJs - rubbing her eyes. She was obviously showing me how to do this “going slow” thing.

After an hour of eating toast, drinking our own body-weight in tea, and deliberating about what to wear, we set off towards the coast path, and the wilds of Holy Island.

While walking, exploring, and stopping to watch and listen to various birds, we wished we had brought (a) a bird book, and (b) a pair of binoculars. We own both - several of both - and they are all at home. We saw oyster catchers, kestrels, herring gulls, sparrow hawks, and all manner of smaller birds.

Along the western side of Rhoscolyn we saw numerous groups of climbers on the quite beautiful cliffs and rocks - picking their way from hold to hold, and threading ropes through carabinas. I will admit it gave me the willies just watching them.

After crossing to the eastern coast – with Mount Snowdon and Snowdonia painting picture postcard vistas across the horizon - we passed RAF Valley and dropped down into Silver Bay - walking the beach at low tide on our own before spying a small building selling exactly the kids of refreshments you might like after walking for a few hours.

We won't talk about the elderly norther man walking a dog that nearly attacked us. He *knew* it was dangerous as he approached - looking concerned that they had encountered anybody at all. The dog started bareing it's teeth, and lashed out at despite us both stepping back against the fence as far as we could. I will admit to taking some delight in knowing that he would be walking through a field of bulls in a few minutes time. Let's hope they didn't stampede the dog (not).

Walking back into Rhoscolyn, we stopped once again at the White Eagle, and wondered quite who might own the imposing black house on the edge of the peninsula - replete with fake burial mound stones on the lawn, and Tim Burton-esque gates. We really should look it up.

This evening we’re back in the cottage, overdosed on o-zone and vitamin D, and enjoying the peace and quiet once again.

I wonder if the non existent mice will return this evening?

[regarding-stories]

Fallout TV Series Follow-Along: Episode 1

I decided to change format a bit for this one. Several people recommended the series to me but I quit Prime when they wanted to charge me and show me ads (or pay even more). Personally, Prime Video in itself has never been worth it. Most of the content I'm looking for is outside of it and you need to pay extra (and at times, 3 bucks per episode!), and the content that Amazon makes often strikes me as second-rate at best. The first season of "Good Omens" is an exception, but even there, in my book, and as fan of the book, Amazon, and even the co-author Neil Gaiman, dropped the ball quite a bit. But this is for another time.

So, they offered me a week of Prime for a buck.

So that's the time I have to work with, and I decided to invest that in the Fallout TV Series. I'm jotting down impressions as I watch. By necessity, this will be littered with spoilers. But chances are, you already watched.

The first impression

Our first look at the world of Fallout is a sequence set before the nuclear holocaust strikes humanity. One thing to notice here is that the longer the Fallout franchise exists, the more 1950s it becomes. Almost everything here is 1950s. It's alluded the first protagonist shown is an actor rehashing his role on birthday parties to pay alimony. What kind of actor is he? A full-blown 50s Western star. You can imagine him in a black-and-white show advertising cereal to kids. But it's everything - the clothes, the furniture, the lifestyle.

That Fallout isn't set in the 1950s is only partially alluded to, but effectively. While TVs are black-and-white and, well, tubes, we also see a Mr Handy robot and we eventually see the steel-and-glass skyscrapers in the background.

Contrary to our image of the 1950s, black and white America seem to mingle freely. In general, the world of Fallout doesn't seem to be big on the theme of "color" racism (not sure how to say it) at all, given that eventually humans have to deal with mutants and what not. So maybe it was already no big deal before the War - in spite of its 1950s aesthetics Fallout isn't set in the 1950s, but in a regressive society of an alternate 2077. Also, Amazon and Netflix productions these days have a tendency to show us a past "we" (the imaginary audience) would have liked to have happened. It's always worth to look at which issues they include and exclude - and I will talk about it later, as this will be evident by episode 2. After all, not all is well in the world of Fallout (or rather: nothing is). But I digress - in the Fallout Universe, this might just as well be canon.

In general, the whole intro makes a really good prelude to the dropping of the bombs. Not for its callouts to scenes and aesthetics from the games, but for some of its original images. The people switching away the news, ignoring them because they are scary. He teaching his daughter how to identify when you are "too close to bother." And the anxiety-inducing scene when a nuke lights in the distance, we see the flash of the explosion, and the girl holds up her thumb and asks if it's her thumb (size-wise) or his. Which makes us know - yes, this is too close.

When I say, anxiety-inducing, this scene really got me. It worked entirely as intended, well executed, an emotional hard-hitter.

After the emotional impact it flattens quite a bit. Lots of bombs exploding, all ground bursts. People fighting for access to a 50s style nuclear shelter. There are several things wrong here, but you might not know it. This scene is focused on emotional impact, not on getting it right. It's focused on iconic imagery. So you need the big blasts and a picture of panic. It's also a big shout-out to the opening scene of Fallout 4 (the game) - but with differences.

Even in FO4, you get an advance warning. For dramatic effect it's first coming through a TV newscast before the sirens engage (not how a warning system works) and select people can evacuate before the bombs strike - it's already all for drama. (Where did the soldiers come from that wave you through? Don't ask.) This is not how you get hundreds of people into a vault. But it's dramatic.

Since it doesn't fit the dramatic intention of the TV series, there isn't even a warning system. So the people of 2077, in imminent danger of a nuclear war, have no warning system. How will they get to the vaults in time?

But let's not dwell on this. It's an emotional, impactful scene that sets things off quite well. And we have a lot of ground to cover still.

It all starts in a Vault

Next we find ourselves in a Vault. Like in FO1, FO3, and FO4 at the beginning. It's not surprising that the series plays it safe, but for the Fallout Universe this is like "they met in a tavern" for fantasy.

We soon learn it's about 219 years in the future - so firmly after the latest games. Which makes the people still in the Vault a bit questionable. But frankly - seeing a Vault like this? Again damn cool.

It also follows another rule of the Fallout Universe: If it's a Vault, it will almost certainly go wrong.

I frankly don't see the a big connection to the lore here (for the most part), as there are a lot of contradictions to unpack about the whole Vault sequence, and not a lot to go on about the why of Vault 33 (and by extension of 32). But one connection to the lore exists: The vaults were social experiments (just "us viewers" don't know this). Instead of uniting the population of the two vaults into one, they are separated but dependent on each other for breeding purposes (probably due to population size). But they each handle their struggles individually, and there's a hint that the other Vault suffered crop failures (not sure if real or part of the ruse). But the Vaults keep this strange isolation up unquestioningly, at least in case of Vault 33.

There are shout-outs aplenty in the upcoming scene - Stimpak for treating a wound, a raider taking a chem (= drug) to get in a sort of battle rage, the Syringer gun that basically shoots tranquilizer darts. The Pipboy modules for the arm, the vault suits, the whole architecture.

The whole ambush and raid, however, is not really working, and the whole sequence seems like a big plot hole. Given that the twin Vaults intermarry constantly and exchange population (breeding males), how can they fail to recognize that there are strangers at least mixed in? How do the supposed raiders from the surface be mostly unblemished, damned clean, and have impeccable dental work? They look healthier than the Vault people. (Which, genetically, might even make sense, but not in terms of environment.)

Where did they keep the weapons? The whole scene is a complete mess, logic-wise. It's purely for effect, don't think about it. I was mostly disappointed. When Kyle MacLachlan drowned a raider in a barrel of cucumbers, it seemed just like it was there for a needlessly sadistic death.

One thing, however, was extremely well-done. The 3D imagery for the background comes out of a sort of olden-style projector, and its special "celluloid" burns in the carnage. And so we see the background burn in a callback to the nuclear fire consuming the world. That was amazing by itself, very good scene-setting while also a metaphor.

This whole sequence, which at this point we cannot make sense of, ends with a choice by the Overseer who choses his daughter. This is a call-out to the kind of choices made in the games, I'm very sure of it. (It's not a great scene, either, nor a particularly good choice. It's just some minor character establishing moment. In the end, it is shown to have zero impact as none of the people involved die...)

So the whole Vault sequence left me with mixed feelings. The atmospheric setup? Impeccable. Artful. The looks, the aesthetics, the feel of a Vault? You did it. The unfolding plot, the action? More holes than a Swiss cheese.

The unbrotherly Brotherhood

Next we're thrown into what quickly became apparent to be a Brotherhood of Steel bootcamp. This piece does many things very well: It shows, not tells. We see the inside of an organization that mixes medieval concepts (knights, squire) and the ritual of a knightly order with its legacy as being descendant from the US Army.

One thing it does even better is showing us what the Brotherhood has become. In Fallout 4, the East Coast Brotherhood is essentially a nation, a warring state of its own. And so it makes sense that, as opposed to the early games (including everything before Fallout 4), it does not need to hide out in bunkers anymore. It has numbers. It actively recruits. It's no longer secret. The whole setup here made so much sense. I welcomed this expansion of setting lore with this training base in the middle of nowhere.

After showing us our protagonist it then shows us most anyone else is an asshole. Which we even suspect of the Elder who hands out the verdict over him - until we see that the Elder, no matter what his thoughts are about the Aspirant's guilt, is quite capable of spotting devotion to the cause.

We also see a lot of Fallout shout-outs - including an airship like the Prydwen, Vertibird "helicopter-planes," T-60 Power Armor, even a power-armor repair stand... It was at this point that I finally confirmed for myself that this show is fully and absolutely rooted in Fallout 4. It takes its setting details solely from that game, so basically everything that Fallout is, we see through the lens of Fallout 4. For good and bad.

Still, this whole sequence was good. Its world-building well-done, its setting details - well, definitely true to Fallout 4. No big logic gaps. We just feel sorry for our hero. He's a very relatable character, capable of great honesty, human. His relation to the Brotherhood is also very understandable, having been taken in as an orphan.

Were these parts written by different people on the same team?

Setting out into the Wasteland

Sorry for breaking sequence. In between our heroine sets out into the Wasteland. And regardless of how likable and spunky she is, almost every time she's on screen, something illogical happens. (Not her fault.)

After having been attacked by Raiders the population of the Vault is still scared of opening the door. (By the way, shouting "Raiders!!" was a call-out to a typical Fallout term, but was this term already in common use when people were locked away in Vaults? Could be from a Vault-Tec training tape...) So, by measuring radiation (urgh) she originally established that there were people from the surface in that raiding party. Yet nobody acts like this was the case. (The surface in general wouldn't be irradiated two hundred years in the future, but I guess lore-wise this is okay-ish and a short-hand for the mutations caused in the past by exposure.)

We are left unclear about the goals and impact of the raid except for injuries and dead. What went missing beside her dad? (Which is, by the way, a big shout-out to Fallout 3. She's going out of the Vault to go look for her Daddy...)

We then are treated to a leaving the Vault sequence, very cool and true to what we see in Fallout 4, even down to the security railings.

However this particular character cannot escape the rails of poor writing! After growing up in a steel box she's not only under an open sky, she sees the damn ocean for the first time. You could get a nervous breakdown from that. But she just says "Okey-dokey." You can overdo the "can-do" attitude...

Then we are treated to walking among skeletons and petrified corpses. I don't think petrification is a side effect of nuclear bombs (bodies evaporate if too close), but I might be wrong. I also checked, and it's unlikely skeletons would be intact after lying in the open for two centuries. (They can last enormously long underground, but we also have to assume their integrity had already been damaged by radiation.) These are Fallout staples and purely for effect. I wouldn't have minded so much if it wasn't for her flippant reactions to most of this.

Why anybody would build a Vault on a beach, though? There's no natural shielding through a thick layer of rock. And why would the bomb go off so close to the beach to raze off the top of the structure?

As I said, when she (sorry, I couldn't remember names of any protagonist yet) is on the screen, logic goes out of the window all too often.

Western Feel, that's all

Now we're back to our initial protagonist. We find him in a grave. But before we get to this shout-out to Fallout: New Vegas, we are treated to the most silly shout-out in the whole episode:

Somebody gets killed by a Rock-it Launcher/Junk Jet, by basically firing a doll at him at ballistic speed. Yeah, this happens in FO3 and FO4, but these are the kind of things too stupid to consider canon. That's just blind, idiotic shooter-game fun that really undermines the exposition of this series. I guess they wanted a Mad Max vibe here where anything crazy goes because post-apocalypse punk. But frankly, just ignore it.

The rest of the scene isn't much better. There are three bounty hunter scoundrels making their way into a guarded graveyard. They want to enlist a ghoul forcefully buried there. We are told that he's buried there and tortured a bit every year - which actually makes sense in the Fallout Universe since ghouls are effectively immortal.

What doesn't make sense is pumping what looks like RadAway, a rare (enough) substance into a grave, given that ghouls are basically impervious to radiation. I don't think the series ever established the reason for it. So unless these IVs are empty and just for macabre show, the whole bit was just nonsensical. (Also, it renders the whole discussion about which grave it is entirely moot.)

We are not told a lot about ghouls, except that they can go feral. The whole chicken bit is funny because it is the only survivor except the Ghoul himself. I guess it establishes him as a calculating killer, somebody quite capable of making his own decisions, as unpleasant as it may be. He's not out of control.

It's just his decisions are stupid. He basically kills off the bounty hunters that went to the trouble of freeing him from his predicament because he's, well, a moody ass. It's hard to imagine how he could have actually worked with the bounty hunter boss' father, unless he really took a bad turn after. And he also kills off his chance to learn anything more. He's just so badass he can get away with this even at a disadvantage.

We are not told yet how the person we originally saw as patient, able to take an insult, and a caring father turn into a jerkass (or a ghoul, for that matter). So we need to take this as his character intro for now and see what happens.

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

Given the Western vibes at least of one part of the story, you might think I refer to the Ghoul as the ugly. But what's ugly here is not the Ghoul, but some of the writing of the show where logic at times is really shallow or absent. This is the point that mars watching it the most. (How does half the Wasteland know how to hunt one man and a dog? I need to stop asking these questions...)

As for the bad... it isn't exactly bad. The show works well enough to go on, and while it's callous (wait for episode 2!), it's not out of tune with the Fallout Universe. This is one show where the over-the-top violence actually can make sense. What is bad is taking one particular cue from Fallout 4 (and especially, by extension, from Fallout 3). It likes the "Rule of Cool" - when in doubt, and it's cool, put it in. (Junk Jet... good grief.)

As for the good... its aesthetics and special effects are often top-notch, it's what you would want as fan of Fallout 4. It has the look and feel, and it feels like a Fallout story. It doesn't have to be the best Fallout story ever if it gets that right. And in spite of its logical holes, it does often carry the Fallout vibe. It might drop the ball on logic at times, but I guess it does carry the vibe. I guess it does on par with many contemporary shows on that count.

[ckygetsjobs]

All I wanted

Brandon Dicamillo x reader

A/n: idk what you’re talking about…. This isn’t a vent about dico… nah cuz I didn’t even mean to make it so sad but like I’m not in a good mood so writing…. Angst…. Based off of the song by paramore

you both had broken up a long time ago, but that didn’t make it hurt less, and that didn’t make the tears on your face become dry. It felt so weird, him not picking you up in his el camino car that he was so happy he got, it was his dream car after all. You remembered that day so clearly, you want to go back to the beginning, maybe slow down and take it slow. 

It was a super dark day and the only thing that separated it from pitch black was one shade. You were sitting inside flipping through channels on your tv when he walked through the door. 

“I just don’t think this is working out,” he spoke and didn’t even look at you. He was holding onto his glass so tight it almost broke. And just as quick as he came, he went, and you never seen him again. Dico never liked short conversations, not with you at least, he promised he’d always be there, but now all that was left was broken promises. 

After that day, it turned to weeks and years, and everything just broken apart. He never bothered to get ahold of you, no voicemails or letters of any sort. He was off the map, and you’d never know why he decided to break it off. When did it get to be too much for him? When did the promises and gazes become meaningless? All you wanted was him, always. 

You were in love with him, you are in love with him, even if he wasn’t anymore, you’d never stopped thinking about him. Everyone had a falling out, and the only person you had stayed in contact with was Raab. You’d hear from him for maybe two times every few months. He’d only tell you updates on Dico and that was it, because he was the only one still in contact with him. It made you jealous, you’d never tell him that though, he couldn’t even send you a letter but he was talking with him a lot. You debated not answering him all the time, begged yourself to not hear Brandon’s name again, and how good he was doing. But you failed every time. every. single. time. 

You tried to tell yourself you answered it because it was Raab, but that was a fucking lie… was he even really your friend anymore? Not really, no one was but you never really wanted to except that. You only answered it because you wanted to hear about him, even though you knew it was only making everything worse for you.

Dico used to be your best friend, even when you were dating all those years, you’d always be together. Falling asleep on the couch became routine, too scared to go to bed alone without him. He would hold you close and tight and just touch you softly as you fell asleep together. Waking up early to black and white reruns as you both laughed as the light from the morning sun shown on your faces and you both were almost glowing. It had been ten years, and you were still unable to face it.

Even if by the off chance he got ahold of you… you knew it would never be the same. It would be awkward and he’d make an excuse to leave. And you wouldn’t say much because you were nervous. It wouldn’t be like before. It wouldn’t be so easy, so simple. Because you weren’t best friends anymore. And as much as you wished things were the same they weren’t. 

You missed his touch, the feeling of his lips, his warm hand on your thigh, and his chuckling when he found something funny, like those dumb ridiculous westerns. You turned the tv off, being zoned out before, you were unable to even touch the remote even if you wanted to. You stared at the picture that was framed on your coffee table. It was you and Dico ten years ago, with his arms wrapped around your waist, you holding his cat as you gazed up loving at Brandon and his grin and half opened eyes. Both of you had obviously gotten wasted the night before, you remembered him grumbling about taking the picture and you laughing because he looked just as perfect as if he never gotten drunk.

The picture was taken and had been shown love by the two of you when you lived together, but now it was just a reminder he wasn’t here. You flipped the frame down, and putting your head in your hands, crying for who knows long, probably a while, before you fell asleep wishing you were back at that time again. Wishing you could just feel his warm embrace and goofy laugh. 

[ausetkmt]

Comedian Chris Rock recently got into trouble after posting a meme with a picture of Betty White, the former “Golden Girls” actress.

“The first thing people say when a mass shooting is announced,” Rock wrote in the caption. The unspoken punchline: Bet he white.

Some white critics called Rock a racist. But the comedian’s defenders invoked an old argument: He can’t be racist because he’s black. While others can debate whether Rock is a racist or not, the reaction to his meme raises a bigger question:

Why can’t blacks be racist?

There’s a popular belief that people of color can’t be racist because they don’t have enough power. Racism, the thinking goes, transcends prejudice. It’s a system of advantage based on race and people of color don’t have the institutional power to oppress others.

But Ibram X. Kendi systematically demolishes this notion in his provocative new book, “How to be an Antiracist.” Kendi, a lean man with long dreads and an encyclopedic knowledge of Western history, says the notion that black people can’t be racist is tainted by racism itself.

“Like every other racist idea, the powerless defense underestimates black people and overestimates white people,” Kendi says.

Kendi’s new book is essential reading for anyone trying to figure out why racism remains such a destructive force in American life. There is arguably no better commentator on race in America today. Kendi’s previous book, “Stamped from the Beginning,” won a National Book Award. He is also the founding director of The Antiracist Research and Policy Center at American University and a 2019 Guggenheim fellow.

In his new book Kendi explains why there is no middle ground between being a racist and someone who says “I’m not a racist,” why Americans are trained to see deficiencies in people instead of policy and why he fears a second term of President Trump.

CNN talked with Kendi about the book. This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

I think people will understand the people who are actively supporting racist policies. I think people will (also) understand people who are actively supporting anti-racist policies, and how they are anti-racist. But what about the people who are literally doing nothing? The status quo – what is mainstream – is racial inequity. So to literally do nothing in the face of the status quo of racial inequity is to essentially support the status quo. It’s just like, for instance, what slaveholders wanted people in the North to do in the face of slavery, which was nothing.

You have white people who are in positions of power to shape policies, and then you have everyday white people. Who should we focus on? Should we see those people in positions of power as pretty much the same as ordinary white people? I’m saying, no we should not. Specifically those whites who are in positions of power, who are using that power to defend or institute racist policies, they are the source of this race problem.

For us to focus our efforts on any white person who says something or does something that’s racist as opposed to those in positions of power – whenever we take the focus off of those people in positions of power, we are taking the focus off of the source of the problem. By taking our focus off of the source of the problem we’re allowing that problem to fester. And by allowing that problem to fester we’re making the lives of black people worse. That’s how hating white people becomes ultimately hating black people.

So generally white people say, I’m not racist, and black people say, I can’t be racist. There’s a similar form of denial that is essential to the life of racism itself. You have black people who believe that they can’t be racist because they believe that black people don’t have power and that’s blatantly not true. Every single person on earth has the power to resist racist policies and power.

We need to recognize that there are black people who resist it, and there are some who do not because of their own anti-black racism. And then you have black people, a limited number, who are in policy-making positions and use those policy-making decisions to institute or defend policies that harm black people. If those people were white we would be calling them what they are – racists. If they’re black, they’re no different. They’re racists.

His policies will have an even more damaging effect on so many communities, the way in which his racist ideas are dividing and conquering Americans. That will only grow deeper. White domestic supremacist terrorists – they will continue to rise and harm Americans, specifically because the President is not willing to view them as as a domestic terrorist threat. And ultimately I think he will try to run again in 2024. He will try to figure out a way to operate as a king.

Yes. Cynicism is the kryptonite of change.

Yes. The reason why I believe that is first based on my reading of history. In 1860, if you had talked about eliminating chattel slavery, people would have said that was completely impossible. Slaveholders are extremely powerful. They’re the richest people in the world. In 1790, if we were having a conversation about Haiti becoming a free black republic by 1804, people would have said that’s impossible. Haiti is the most profitable colony in the world. There’s no way the French or any European power would allow Haiti to be lost to freedom. If someone said that someone named Barack Hussein Obama would become President of the United States, people would have said that’s impossible.

[befehlvonganzunten]

All Quiet on the Western Front is NOT a war film … or is it?

DISCLAIMER: I’m German and I’m beyond happy with the Everything Everywhere All at Once sweep (except that Stephanie Hsu should’ve won Best Supporting Actress), so this isn't me being bitter about All Quiet on the Western Front not winning Best Picture. What I am bitter about is people throwing around the term "war film" without knowing what a "war film" is or what the term actually means.

Also: I am very aware that I’m probably arguing with a wall here because this is the internet but this bothers me for some reason, so here we go. 

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If you want to argue that a war film is a film that depicts war, then yes, All Quiet is indeed a war film. After all, it is set during World War I and abundant with battle sequences. Soldiers are dying left and right by the sheer brutality of early 20th-century war technology and trench warfare, and we follow a rather young recruit who has no considerable military experience by the time he joins the fighting.

However, not all war films are the same - shocker, I know. They can be pro-war, anti-war or even something in-between (see Apocalypse Now for example). The war film genre also has tons of subgenres like the retaliation film, the military (black) comedy, or the recruitment film. Arguing that All Quiet is a war film as in it’s a pro-war film because I don't know how genres work or, you know, because I don't care about the book this film is based on would be kinda stupid, if not outrageously ignorant. Its source material, the novel of the same name, is considered one of the most important pieces of anti-war literature of all time, written by a man who actually fought in World War I and therefore knew what he was talking about. (The novel was also banned and later burned during the Nazi book burnings in 1933, and Erich Maria Remarque, the author, fled the country to avoid further persecution while his sister stayed behind and was eventually executed for opposing the Nazi government in the early 1940s.)

Pro-war means that a war film depicts war as a black and white adventure where there are inherently good guys on one side and inherently bad guys on the other. The good guys have to win and the bad guys have to lose, and people who think that war is bad either don’t exist or have barely any screen time because God forbid the voice of reason is actually given - well - a voice. Bootcamp turns boys into "manly men" who can fight an entire army on their own. From a technical standpoint, the battle scenes are designed as an audiovisual spectacle that is supposed to make you feel excited, not horrified by the way in which the military machine can destroy bodies and nature alike. It is a very simple form of propaganda escapism that can easily bleed into other genres such as fantasy, science-fiction or superhero films, and you should rightfully hate it with a passion.

Anti-war, on the other hand, means that a war film depicts war as hell on earth, which it is. Nobody wins here. Soldiers are used as canon fodder and nine times out of ten neither the government nor the military elite of either war party really give a fuck. Bootcamp is a complete joke and, in its essence, torture. Young recruits are sucked into the slaughter thanks to lies and propaganda, and they are quickly disillusioned by the horrors they experience on the battlefield. The spectacle of war - the battle sequence - is meant to leave you horrified, disturbed and disgusted by what war forces people to do to each other. It’s the very core element of films/novels like All Quiet and the very opposite of  propaganda escapism.

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CONCLUSION: All Quiet on the Western Front is a war film that depicts war from an anti-war perspective, which makes it an anti-war film. It is based on a novel written by a man who was persecuted by the fucking Nazis. With this in mind (and I promise you that you can research all of this within minutes), it is absolute bonkers to me how some people can look at such a complex genre and reduce it to "bang boom bang explosion war films" without batting an eye.

In my personal opinion, All Quiet is by no means perfect. It’s a decent adaptation of its source material, and while I prefer the 1930 adaptation, I can see why this one was nominated for 9 categories. I’m a little disappointed that An Cailín Ciúin didn’t win Best International Feature Film, but it is what it is. Hopefully, now that I have managed to get this off my chest, I can go back to rewatching Best Picture Winner Everything Everywhere All at Once in peace.

[tribadismes]

color ask game: 1, 5, 7, 10, 13, 17, 24, 26, 27, 35 hehe

Favorite color(s), and why ?

So obviously it's hard because i'm obsessed with colors and i love many colors but if i had to pick one it would be yellow. I've discovered my love of yellow maybe five years ago and since then it's only been growing and growing. It's the happiest color, it legit helps me with depression. Also I like every shade of yellow which is not something i can say about any other colors. I used to not be a fan of light yellow but i'm starting to grow fond of it, and even greenish neon yellow, my least favorite shade of yellow, can work in many contexts i believe.

5. Favorite color combos ? 

Yellow & blue, orange & blue, green & blue, red & blue, green & burgundy, black & beige, light blue & bright red

7. What’s your color palette (i.e. pastels, earthy tones, neons, neutrals...) ?

My favorite color palette is bright, primary colors : bright red and yellow, deep bright blue, bright orange, grass green. These are the colors i'm instantly drawn to, and that i consider part of my identity, my core. But I also really like neutrals, especially beige and wood tones in general, and earthy tones (khaki, burnt orange, camel...). I've recently discovered that i love the combination of bright colors with more muted tones actually, like on this picture :

10. Gold, silver, or rose gold ? 

I had a long gold phase for a few years but recently i've been tired of it and have rediscovered silver. I'm obsessed with chrome, like on bauhaus style furnitures specifically it's just... so good.

17. What color do you think compliments you best ?

Camel. I've had a camel colored sweater for yeaaars and everytime i wear it i feel like all my features pop.

24. What color makes you feel the strongest feelings, if any ? 

Klein blue and similar bright, deep, layered shades of blue. I've talked about how yellow has a strong impact on me but them blues are just on an other level. When I see klein's art in person, especially when he uses pure pigments it's like... It's like something is slashing down my throat to rip me apart. And I can't look at it for too long because i'm afraid i will start crying, i'm afraid i will get lost in the color, go crazy. But, in the best way ? No other color does that to me, needless to say.

26. Tell us about a color-related fact you like ?

Blue is the rarest pigment in nature, most things that appear blue don't contain blue pigment, it's the structure of these things and the way the light reflects on it that make us see them blue. How wild is that. Makes you understand why the indigo pigment was such a big deal.

Here are some fascinating videos about it :

27. Is there a color that holds a unique symbolism in your culture ?

Not anymore I don't think. But for example white being associated with royalty and aristocracy was I believe pretty specific to France (but don't quote me on that).

35. Thoughts on yellow ? 

Apart from what I already said, it's just such an underrated, overlooked, and even despised color in modern western culture, it's so crazy to me. While as you've pointed out it's literally the color of holyness in many many ancient cultures. I remember seeing a very interesting poll (that i didn't save because i'm dumb) where they were asking people across Europe to associate words with colors, and yellow was one of the least popular colors. Interestingly, the more you went up north, the more positive responses were given, words like "happy" and "sun", for obvious reasons. I also feel that yellow is way more popular amongst people our age, maybe because we're all depressed lmfao. Anyways my final take is, if you like yellow i instantly trust you.

Thank you so much for letting me ramble about one of my favorite topics !! Lots of love to you <3

[kosmosxipo]

I’ve been thinking about my hometown a lot lately. I wrote a whole essay about how I love it like a family member, for everything that means. It both infuriates me to tears and brings me immense amounts of joy, makes me achingly sad but I will defend it to anyone who talks shit about it, because fuck you, what do you know? My city still bears the burdens of sins committed in its name going back 150 years. But what’s driving me nuts right now is how systematically huge parts of it were destroyed. Let me show you:

I believe this is around the mid-1930s or 1940s. Before the interstates and suburbs and white flight. Here’s that same area now:

This neighborhood was redlined in the name of Urban Renewal. This is what 80 years of that looks like.

A wider shot, this time of Sportsman’s Park, where both the Cardinals and the Browns played. The streets are alive in this pic:

There’s even streetcars. A whole network of them that would get you all over the city. Here’s that same area now.

I’m posting this because I want you to understand that this was intentional. City planners like Robert Moses wanted exactly this, the more non-white and non-Christian, non-western European people it happened to, the better. In St. Louis we had Harland Bartholomew. That man who wanted to tear down iconic neighborhoods. The man that wanted to build expressways through our parks. This is his map from 1947:

A lot of those areas were marked as “blighted.” The places above? The picture of the stadium and that neighborhood? A blight. They were either destroyed or left to rot. A small but thriving Chinatown was destroyed to make way for a new stadium. An entire Black neighborhood erased by the Interstate — if you ever look at your city and wonder why the interstate weaves around like it does, you can almost guarantee that it was hitting non-white, non-Christian, non-western European communities.

I’ve been thinking about how places like St. Louis were destroyed by white men, and then turned into punchlines in movies like National Lampoon’s Vacation, or used as post-apocalyptic sets in Escape From New York. They destroyed my city, and then turned and laughed at us. Harlan Batholomew retired and lived comfortably in the wealthy suburb of Clayton, away from what he created, until his death. I always wonder if he was pleased with what he did.

[disappointingyet]

Babylon

Director Damien Chazelle Stars Diego Calva, Margot Robbie, Brad Pitt, Li Jun Li, Jovan Adepo USA 2022 Language English, Spanish, Cantonese, French, Hungarian plus random bits of Italian spoken by Brad Pitt 3hrs 9mins Colour, Black & white

Movie decadence! Lots of running around! The worst movie score I have ever heard!

Something that massively fails to meet expectations is a big flop, but what’s a work of art that gets much closer to its targets but falls short? A small flop? A minor disappointment? Neither of those descriptions will remotely do for Babylon, which is immense in scale, cast size, running time, ambition…

Still, Babylon could be described as a flop since it failed to make back its production budget (let alone the full spend including ads etc) at the box office. The marketing tactic seems to have been ‘come for the wild party/orgy, stay for the elegiac speeches about movies-as-art’ but not enough people, it seems, were lured in by the promise of excess and decadence… 

It also, for the limited amount either of these things are worth, failed to make the anticipated splash at awards season (three Oscar noms – production design, costume design, score – no wins) and got a mixed critical reception. Its average on Metacritic is a middling 60, but few of those writers thought of it as a six out of 10 movie – you get there by balancing the 10s and the 2s, the lovers and the haters. Babylon is a film with lots of fierce defenders, and because of that, maybe down the line it will end up with a good reputation as they keep up the fight while those who didn’t like it move on. 

It starts in the desert outside Los Angeles in 1926, during the preparations for a huge party being held by movie mogul Don Wallach. I won’t give spoilers for what exactly is going on in this opening sequence, but it introduces us to Manny Torres (Diego Calva), the first of our main characters. He’s the guy responsible for making sure the event happens and that the chaos is just about contained. Although his job has introduced him to many people in the business, he has (we learn) never been to a film set. 

The party, when we get there, has a guest list of hundreds and no limits to the drink, drugs, sex (in the middle of the room) etc etc. The screen is crammed with figures like a painting by Bosch or Bruegel. As all this whirls on around us, we meet the other two central characters as well as two the film (to me) seems to treat as secondary leads. Nellie LaRoy (Margot Robbie) is convinced she’s a star, even though – like Manny – she is yet to set foot on a movie set. Jack Conrad (Brad Pitt), meanwhile, actually is a screen idol, a hard-drinking, much-married one. Then we have seductive cabaret act Lady Fay Zhu (Li Jun Li) – who we learn a little later also writes dialogue for the title cards shown in the (silent) movies of the time. And, because this is a Damien Chazelle flick, there’s a jazz trumpeter, Sidney Palmer (Jovan Adepo).

The next day after the party, we get to the film’s second vast set piece – an open-air film lot where – because there’s no sound recording – multiple movies are being shot right next to each other. There’s a cast-of-hundreds mediaeval battle scene almost right on top of a barroom Western. It’s an attempt to capture everything deranged and magical about the film business in one breathless sequence. 

And when that ends, it feels like Chazelle has thrown everything he can think of at us, gone maximum rock’n’roll from the start. It’s impressive, if exhausting… but there’s over two hours left of the film. Where are we headed from here?

Well, this is 1926 and in 1927 The Jazz Singer was released, and within a couple of years talking (and singing) pictures had made silents obsolete. Meanwhile, there was a moral backlash against Hollywood that would lead to the strict enforcement of the Production Code by the mid-1930s. The coming of sound – the way it changed movies and the careers it supposedly killed overnight – has been told many times, including by a movie that is heavily alluded to a couple of times in this and by a film that makes a crucial cameo here. Which is to say: Chazelle is aware this is not unchartered territory. 

Considering the epic running time, we don’t get to know the characters well, except maybe Jack – he gets a best friend, the many wives and plenty of chances to give speeches about modernism and why movies matter. The others seem more sketched in – we see Nellie doing plenty of wild things, but beyond that? And with Sidney Palmer and Lady Fay Zhu, Chazelle seems to be falling into a representation trap – ‘look!’ he’s saying, ‘there were black dudes and Chinese lesbians in Old Hollywood, but they are never centre stage in those other film histories, and they are here.’ Which is true, but they still don’t get much to do, character-wise (Palmer does get plenty of screen time but not really acting time, more standing-there-with-a-trumpet time.)

I approached Babylon with interest and a dash of scepticism. I often like Hollywood stories about Hollywood. I don’t approve of films with a three-hour running time. I have a mixed history with the films of Damien Chazelle – I loathe Whiplash, liked La La Land and had no interest in seeing First Man. I’m by no means an expert on the early film industry, but I know some of this stuff – I’m pretty sure, for instance, that the title is nodding to both DW Griffith’s Intolerance – one of the first movie mega-productions – and Kenneth Anger’s book Hollywood Babylon, a collection of lurid tales of scandal I first read in Upper Norwood library as a teenager and more recently have heard scrupulously fact-checked on the always excellent You Must Remember This podcast.

And after watching the film, I had a similar mix of feelings. The two huge set pieces are certainly audacious and memorable bits of film-making, and there are other good moments throughout the film. But does Chazelle have three hours of interesting stuff to say here? Not by a distance.

And then I kept being reminded of movies I like better. There’s what feels like a very long scene when Nellie is working on maybe her first sound picture, and everything keeps going wrong. The timing of the scene (to me) feels like Chazelle is anticipating times when the audience is just catching its breath after screaming with laughter when he’s going to hit them with the other gag… But I wasn’t splitting my sides – I was thinking fondly of the great ‘Would that it were so simple’ scene from Hail, Caesar! and of Living In Oblivion.

Like Hail, Caesar!, but well, not as funny

As well as the film that features so prominently in the film that I’m not going to name, as mentioned I thought of Hail, Caesar! a lot, and of The Bad And The Beautiful, Vincente Minelli’s masterful stew of various movie biz legends, as well (of course) with Pitt and Robbie back together, Once Upon A Time In Hollywood. (I also thought of the trailer for Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby, a film I will never watch.) Chazelle gives us more writhing bodies, more drugs, but not more insight. And then there’s the terrible, terrible music – not actual 1920s jazz (because they think the kids wouldn’t like that? Because Chazelle doesn’t like it?) but a horrible concoction, a grim, fat-sounding jazz-rock fusion. 

Should you watch Babylon? If you like big, ambitious movies, yes, I think so. If you like talking about films, yes – I’ve certainly had good conversations about it, and now I’ve written lots of words about it, too. It’s not a disaster, but is it a complete success? Not that either.

[scarletwidowqueen]

Scarlet Widow

Summary: Two weeks after events of Winter soldier Natasha goes on the run in Scotland. Only to meet a former Hydra test subject. To there surprise they trust each other instantly. The two soon form a bond neither expected. The bond of undying love.

Notes: In these story The battle of New York happened on March 12, 2012. Winter soldier happen two months (not two years) after the battle of New York. (Winter soldier was on May 16, 2012 to May 18, 2012)

Less then a month has pass since Winter soldier.

The backstory of what been happening the past two weeks since the fall of Shield. ( Wanda and Natasha meet next chapter)

—

A group of scientists was working hard in a lab as one of the male Scientists placed the Scepter in a custom-made power generation. “The Scepter has been placed in the transfer unit. Calibrating energy levels now.” Said a female scientist's voice as she pressed a button on her touch screen. “The Scepter power levels are stable.” Said another female scientist as she put three containers of a strange blue liquid into the right side of a vault while another one put in three valves of blood into the other. “Terrigen mixture has been set and ready for Evaporation.”

“Good is number one hundred forty-four blood ready.” A doctor asks at his control board. “Yes, DR. List Number One hundred forty-four blood is ready for injection.”

Then commence negative number 13.

Two weeks after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.

May 30, 2012

Inside a Hydra base stood a bald man wearing a monocle on his left eye. He looked outside his window as he talked with another man wearing a lab coat. Over the arrival of a significant person. “ Is everything ready for our guest Doctor List ?” asked the one with the monocle.

“Yes, Strucker, everything is as you asked.” Reply Doctor List. “Good,” Strucker replied. Just as a soldier wearing a battle suit with the symbol of hydra on his right shoulder entered the room, “Commander Strucker, The leader of Leviathan, is set to land.”

“Oh are guests earlier than suspected; I suspected nothing less from a man of his character. Come Doctor, let's go say hello to our new ally.” Strucker sides as he and List walk out of his office, quickly surrounded by the guard who entered the room followed by five other guards. “But Strucker, are we sure we trusted these men?” Dr. List asks worriedly, “Not only is he not associated with hydra. But he is also in charge of his organization.

“Doctor, you didn’t seem against the idea when he sent you all those wonderful test subjects. Besides, he never stood opposite Hydra. He stood against the vision of Alexander Pierce. Our goal is the same as him.” Strucker replied as they walked down a hall to the base hanger dock

Yes, but we need to keep our wits about us. Just in case of the worst.” List replied nervously. “He will only be here for an hour and in that time. I will determine him friend or foe.” Strucker finished as he signaled for his troop to open the hangar door, as a Quinjet with a symbol of Leviathan landed in front of them. The door opens to reveal a man in a black battle suit. With a white hood and a white skull mask covering his face. The men walked up to shake Strucker's hand. “Why hello, Taskmaster; I hope your trip was pleasant.” Strucker asks, giving a firm handshake to Taskmaster. “Nice and quiet, just the way I like it. I got some time to read one of my many books.”

“Oh, that's good to hear; you read anything good?” Strucker asks as he lets go of Taskmaster's hand. “Why yes, a classic western story about a young boy that grew up with nothing becoming a local cowboy legend. By freeing the people from its corrupt government.” Taskmasters replied as Strucker raised his eyebrow. “ Interesting, I never pictured you have one in the coming of age stories, much less old western.”

Taskmasters chuckled at the response.” On the contrary, I always did love cowboys as a kid. I can’t tell you the number of cowboy toys my mom bought me as a kid besides those stories of heroes and villains, of those that fight the status quo. Always inspired, it is what made me the man I am, to create Leviathan. A force that would fight endlessly to change the world for the better. That is where Alexander failed; he wasted the true potential of the Hydra, which so many people worked to build. But then again, why weren't we talking isn’t, Strucker? ”

“Agreed, Alexander was a fool who lacked the imagination and drove to make true change. After all, I firmly believe that if two people are to work together effectively, there must be a great deal of trust and respect on both sides. That is why I bring you here to show you that your cooperation has not been for anything. Now please follow me, so I may show you what your trust in the alliance has accomplished.” Strucker answered, directing Taskmasters to follow him. He nodded and followed Strucker and Doctor List as they exited the hangar room.

As they were walking the facility hallways, Strucker began taking on the progress they had made. “Now, as you know, we have seen a hundred percent improvement of the survivability rate during and after the Awakening of their X-Factor. Doctor List, if you may.” Strucker said, giving List the floor. Hesitant at first, List continued. “Yes, before we had issues with the chemical balancing of the Terrigen and the energy output of the scepter . They were causing the participants to die during the awakening process. But since the twins, we have perfected the procedure. Making it where anyone who goes through an awakening lives through it.”

“But it was then we experienced an unforeseen problem. You see, a person's body takes about a week to a month before fully synchronizing with their power. However, this process causes their immune system to weaken, making them more acceptable to disease and illness. Even with all the precautions we made to keep a clean and safe environment; there is a fifty percent chance that those people died from these. The other fifty percent that lives we call miracles.” List

“The first of these miracles being the Twins, am I right,” Taskmaster asked, cutting in to confirm if his suspicions were correct. “Yes, the twins are the ones that give us the false assumption of no side effects. Do to their body instantly taking to the X-Factor.” List answered, “I hear the girl awakenings to be more successful than the boys,” Taskmasters replied. “ That you are correct, those the boy had fully synchronized within a twenty-four hours, the girl however far past our expectations. Her miracle is fully synchronized with her body when she exits the vault. The results were so promising we couldn’t help but overlook the damage she caused.” Stucker replied with a voice full of confidence.

And if she is so promising, why need me.” Taskmaster replied, trying to sound indifferent but couldn’t help voice his excitement at the prospects. As they come to a door, Strucker looks at Taskmaster with a knowing look. “ You see, the survivability rate of synchronization is why we decided to work with you.” Open the door to reveal a surveillance room with a computer monitor in the middle of the wall and a bulletproof see-through glass window. They are looking into a training room of shorts.

“You see, since you have begun giving us your Students. We have seen a hundred percent synchronization rate. All thirty of your students have survived.” Lust said, full of pride for his work. “And those who you ask to undergo your…copy processed.” Taskmasters ask with a voice of curiosity. Strucker clears his throat. “ Yes, the one we tried to copy into another has all proven to be complete failures. We have determined that a miracle can only happen once. My apologies for some of your students.”

Taskmaster began to sign. “No matter, there are always more students to come, but If I’m not mistaken, one of the thirteen I give you did survive?” List shook his head in response. “Survive is, let's say, a stretch. Those she did manage to replicate the power within herself. The side effects are too high to continue. Within a month, her health has only gotten worse. We did find a cure but the cost to save her life is not worth the price.” Doctor List said, giving Taskmasters a look that told him everything he needed to know before continuing.” And the other one, the one to become miracles ?”

“Yes, that is why I ask you to come; I would like to show you firsthand the miracles your students have become,” Strucker said, turning his eyes to the see-through wall in front of them. “Well, then show me.” Taskmaster replied with his curiosity peak. “Yes, Doctor List,” Strucker said, turning to the Doctor.

“As you wish, now Taskmasters, we want to show all thirty miracles that would have helped create.“Would Raven Darkhölme, aka Mystique,” please come into the testing more.” Doctor List said, sitting down at his computer to press a button, letting the microphone work. “Mystique? Since when do you give them code names?” Taskmaster asks, looking at Strucker with a raised eyebrow. “We thought best to give the miracles codename to help with identification and to give the order when needed. A name is easier for troops to remember than a random number.” Strucker replied as Taskmaster nodded his head in understanding. A middle young woman with blue skin and red hair and lipstick, wearing a tight white battle suit with the Leviathan logo in gold, enters the room and turns to face them. “ Okay, Mystique, you know the drill, the name of the person I said.” List said as the woman nodded her head. “Tony stark.”

Taskmaster's eyes widen as Mystique turns from a blue skin woman to Tony Stark in less than a second. “Nick Fury, Bruce Banner, Phil Coulson, and Pepper Potts, back to Tony Stark.” Taskmaster watches in amazement at not only her ability to turn into someone else but the speed she did it. “Impressive. To think Raven Darkhölme had such Hidden potential, haha, I almost didn’t recognize her with the blue skin.” “Yes, she was the first widow that went through the awakening. And one of the most promising ones. Her ability to change her appearance to anyone within seconds, combined with her training in the red room. Make her a master of espionage after an hour Taskmasters was shown fifteen of his students now with their strong and unique power.

Strucker looks on with a smirk of pride. “ I take it you enjoy what you see.” Taskmasters just continued to look on in the training room. He had expected to see something fantastic based on the report he gave him, but this far surpassed even his expectation. “Incredible to think people have such power inside them just waiting to be released; these change everything.” Taskmasters turn their attention to the Structure. “Yes, thanks to your outstanding students, we have been able to go beyond our imagination. And this is only a fraction of the power we now have.

Taskmasters turn to Strucker. “That right, you only show me fifteen of the ones I sent you; what of the rest ?” “Yes, We thought it was best to have them go through the awakening in small batches at a time so we could give each one more intense care. As to make we’re we wouldn’t lose them. The last thing we wanted was to sacrifice our students for nothing. So we had to wait a month until we had them go through it. Sorry for not informing you of these decisions earlier, but we worked hard to bring out your student's full potential.

Taskmaster raises his hand. “No worries, as you said, for two people to truly work together, there must be a mutual trust between them. I trust you to watch over my students and bring them to their true potential as you trust me to send you highly trained students who have pledged their loyalty to our cause.”

I appreciate you taking the necessary precautions needed to ensure their survival. I have spent a great deal on perfecting my student.” Taskmaster replied, causing Strucker to gain respect for the man he had only worked with for a month. “But I also think congratulations are in order, Doctor, for what you have done can only be called a Miracle.” Taskmasters said as he turned to shake List's hand, who gladly accepted Taskmaster's braise for his work.

Thank you, though I must praise you for your exceptional students, you trained them well, and they listen to every instruction I give them. It was a pleasure to work with such disciplined people for a change.” List said as Taskmasters let go of him, it was then Strucker began to speak. “Yes, I couldn’t agree more, Doctor; not only did they listen to every order given to them, but they also showed a great sign of loyalty and respect to their superiors. It was clear you trained them well.”

“Thank you; I’m glad they behave themselves while in your care. So how are the other students progressing with their newfound power?” Taskmaster asks. “They're doing excellent; all have survived their awakening and are in their first week of training. Thanks to the information gathered from them and the twins, we are better suited to train an individual's abilities to the fullest. In just a few weeks, all your students will reach their full potential. After that, you can send the next batches. If you wish to continue our partnership ?” Strucker replied as Taskmasters took the information in before coming to a decision. “Strucker about the next batch. I was thinking of increasing the number of Students I send to double. Is that fine with you ?”

“More, but we only have enough to awaken for the thirty you are sending us now. Let alone give proper care not to the ones that do survive. Captain America exposing the truth of hydra's takeover of Shield. Had cause us to lost a large amount of funding.” List said, causing Taskmasters to enter a deep thought. What the doctor said was true Hydra was in shambles after the fall of Shield, many who’d researched relied on the funding that came through Shield International affairs. We're at a standstill due to a lack of resources. It had taken two weeks of hard work and sheer endurance from Strucker to get this much of Hydra to view him as the new head of Hydra. It was under his leadership that Hydra was finally getting back on its feet. Those who swore their loyalty to Strucker had begun praising the result they had seen, saying he should have always been the head of Hydra and not Alexander.

This news caused Taskmasters to reach out to Strucker to see if he was, in fact, the man people were saying he was. And needless to say, he was not disappointed with what he saw. But still, some were hesitant of Strucker as their leader. And there were many questioning his decision to ally with Leviathan. But those doubts were sure to stop once they saw what Strucker and he had achieved. But there was news that Nick Fury had gotten word that much of Hydra was still alive. They were licking their wounds for their next strike. If the rumor were to believe, Fury would soon begin attacking Hydra if that were to happen while Hydra was still healing. It would cause that trust to shatter. And if the avengers were to join him. It would mean the end of Hydra for good.

“Yes, I am well aware of Hydra current…. Predicament. That is why I would like to offer some of Leviathan's funds to help strengthen the trust between us and to grow the influence that trust has created.” Strucker's smile grew at the offer. Strucker had been slow and hesitant to ally with Taskmasters after a few weeks of meeting in person. Strucker discovered who led Leviathan. And these prove even more to him that Taskmaster was a faithful ally.

“Thank you for your generous offer, Taskmasters, but I’m afraid Hydra can't accept such an offer.” Strucker began getting an eye from Taskmasters and Dr. List. “ Not without repaying it. You say it yourself. For two people to truly work together, there must be mutual trust between them. As such, I would like to offer you Hydra's most prizes. The twin as your newest troops.”

“You do have a way of surprising people, Strucker's. I must say when the news of you becoming the new head of Hydra reached my ears. I was skeptical at first. But you are nothing like that fools Alexander.” Taskmaster began removing his face revealing his face to them for the first time. Strucker’s eyes widened since he had known the man. He knew Taskmasters never showed his face to anyone. Even his most trusted subordinate has never seen his face. “ Strucker, if we are to continue these alliances, it is only fair you know the truth of my identity? You see.”

Doctor and Stucker's eyes widened in shock as Taskmasters revealed the truth behind his bloodline. To say it was a shock was an understatement. Strucker merely laughed at these new but powerful reservations.

“ We’ll you are a man full of many surprises, Taskmaster. I will send the order for the twin to be sent to your nearest campus. It will take two days for them to reach you. As they are in our Scotland base.” At that, Strucker reached out to shake Taskmaster's hand. “I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership.

“Same”

—

Edinburgh, Scotland

“Be ready in fifteen minutes for departure.” With that, the Hydra walked away to begin the preparations. At the same time, Wanda and Pietro stood there after receiving the news of being sent to a new location. As a act to strengthen the trust of strucker as Hydra new head.

Pietro looks at his sister. “You know what this means, Wanda,” Wanda responds telepathically to her brother. “ We can finally escape from Hydra,” Pietro smile back at Wanda.

—

An hour later, the twins were inside the truck on their way to Taskmaster. With five guards, two on each side, the other driving.

They looked at each other, their twin link letting the other know it was time. Wanda secretly used her powers to cause the truck tire to pop. “What the hell just happened.” Said one of the Guards. “We got a flat tire. I'm going out to fix it. The rest of you come out and help.”

Signing, the rest of the Guard got up off their seats.

“NOW.”

Pietro uses his super speed to rush the two besides his sister knocking them out as Wanda uses her power to cause the other two to experience nightmares. Making them useless.

Using her powers, Wanda broke open the door. The two quickly jumped out of the truck, but before they could begin to make a run for it. The sound of a gun firing rang through Wanda's ears. Wanda's heart sank, and her breath stopped. It was as if she had lost a part of herself. She turns behind her to see Pietro with a bullet hole in his chest. “NO.” She screams. The driver lowered his gun, looking down at the twin emotionlessness.

“That's what you get, you damn traitors.”

“How…HOW DARE YOU.” Wanda shoots a blast of her red energy at the man knocking him down. “Wanda.”

Wanda stopped; her eyes widened. Maybe there was still hope; she quickly kneeled next to her brother as fast as possible. “Pietro, oh, thank god. You're okay.”

But her heart fell as she saw the life leaving Pietro's face. Wanda's eyes began tearing up. “ No, not..not you. Please don’t leave me too.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda. Look like these is the end of the line for me.” Pietro looks at his sister, his best friend crying. He felt awful for leaving. He was all she had for so long. All these years trying to get revenge on Stark had led to his little sister to lost everything again

Maybe, before he died, he could help Wanda one last time. “ Wanda, it's fine. Please don’t cry; it's okay; you'll be fine.” Wanda couldn’t stop crying, her breath short. “No, it won't; it wouldn't be the same.”

Pietro used what strength he had left to cup his sister's face. “ I’m sorry, Wands, it's all my fault. My need to avenge our parents caused you to be alone.” Wanda shook her head. “ No, we both wanted it. We were both going to make Stark pay and make the world a better place.

“Wands, I was thinking. Since we…since we become like these. That we were fools, to wasted our whole life on getting petty revenge. When we should have just moved on and lived together happy as…Twins as family. Promise me that you will give up revenge. And not let it control you anymore. Wands you have so much before the end of your line. Maybe find a pretty girl worth going to the end of the life with like you always wanted.” Pietro's eyes began tearing up, hoping his words would reach his sister. He couldn’t; he couldn’t be the reason she wasted her life too. “Promise me you will not waste the rest of your life. Promise me you keep on living with that gorgeous smile of yours. For both of us.” Wanda reach to grab her brother's hand. As if by a higher force, Pietro could see the need for revenge leave his sister's eyes. And he knew she would be fine.

“I promise.”

Pietro closed his eyes, his face a smile. “At least before I went, I was able to saved you.”

“NO”

Wanda screamed as she released a massive amount of energy.