#but it's just like. god. who else is doing vulnerability and charm and goofiness and bravery and fear and indignation and hurt like buffy

[justafriendofxanders]

frankly no other enemies-to-lovers, generic self-insert protagonist girl/bad boy, m/f ship will ever go as hard as spuffy. not because spike is too special to be reverse engineered (though he is) but because we will never have another buffy summers.

[fanficshiddles]

My Sweet Rose, Chapter 1

From the imagine on imagine-Loki here.

Summary: Rosie got a job working at The Avengers tower with her cousin, Pepper. She’s only been there a week when Loki comes live there, to make up for his past deeds in New York. But this brings a lot of problems for Rosie.

Loki was her Daddy Dom. Who vanished one day without a word, leaving her completely broken and lost.

Note: Daddy/little dynamic & Flashbacks will be in Bold. I’m not sure how long this story will be, I’m thinking no more than 5 chapters though. But I saw the imagine and omg I love it, had to do something with it. Haven’t written anymore of it yet but just HAD to share the first chapter so far, oops! lol. 

-

Rosie had been working and living in the Avengers tower for a week now, it was going really well. And it was helping to keep her mind occupied, getting her back on her feet after such a rough year.

She was a PA for Stark, and the other Avengers if they needed anything too. It was helping her cousin, Pepper out a lot. As Stark was very demanding nowadays and the others were becoming that way too.

It was also good for Rosie. She’d had a really tough year. She met someone a few years ago in a BDSM club, it had been her first time there after spending months building up the courage to go. She was a little, and had been wanting to find someone that she could feel safe with to explore that side of her.

She met a man, who was charming and handsome. Kind, funny. They fell in love, or so she thought anyway. He was the perfect Daddy Dom for her, teaching her everything and looking after her. She adored and loved him so much. Which is why when one day he just vanished, it was all the harder for her.

He just never returned after saying he had to go home to visit his family, who lived in Iceland apparently. But he did that regularly and always returned to her. But not that time. To say she was heartbroken when there was not even a call or a text from him explaining why was an understatement.

His name was Loki. And it became clear what happened a few months later after his disappearance, she saw him on the news. Loki, the God Of Mischief, was trying to take over the world. She couldn’t believe it and thought she was dreaming when she realised it had was her Loki. He looked different in the heavy armour, he looked scary.

But she thought no wonder he left her, he was a God and a Prince after all. What would he have wanted with her in the first place anyway?

She had tried a couple of times to date someone else, but never made it past the first date. As they just… weren’t him. No matter how often she tried to just forget about him. It was difficult.

She’d fallen into a downward spiral, not even able to go to work. So she had lost her job and was on benefits for a while. She became really anxious and nervous.

But here, in the tower, she was trying to turn herself around again. It had been one man, even if he had been her first true love, in her heart anyway. She knew she would heal, in time. Even if it had been over a year.

Rosie had been so engrossed in sorting out some paperwork for Tony that she never noticed the newcomer coming into the kitchen. She barely even registered Thor introducing her to him. ‘This is Rosie, our PA, she’s new here.’

Not until she heard an all too familiar voice responding that sent shivers down her spine and sent her heart racing.

‘Rosie… My sweet Rose?’

There was only one person who had ever called her that.

Slowly she looked up, eyes widening, standing before her was Loki.

‘Oh my sweet Rose, you’ve done Daddy so proud.’ Loki purred gently as he cradled her in his lap.

She felt so safe and secure, curled up against him as he wrapped a blanket around her naked body. Knowing how cold she always got after they’d played together quite so intensely.

Loki rocked her back and fore softly as he ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her. She was trembling a bit after her orgasms, Loki had pushed her almost past her limit, but he knew. He always knew when to stop at the right time.

He was an intense Daddy, and could be really strict at times. But he was fair and ever so kind. He had his goofy moments and was extremely playful too, which she loved. He was never angry with her, always calm and collected. Even when she misbehaved, not that that happened often.

She clung to his shirt so tightly, never wanting to let go. Loki had to carefully remove her hand from his shirt just so he could change them into a different position, getting them both under the blanket so he could have her snuggled up next to him. He knew she would fall asleep soon.

‘Daddy.’ She whispered quietly, sounding so vulnerable.

‘Yes, my little one?’ Loki asked, engulfing her small hand in his large one.

‘Can you sing to me?’

Loki smiled. ‘Of course, my sweetling.’

He began singing to her in Asgardian, but he had told her before it was Icelandic. She had no reason not to believe him, especially since he told her he’d grown up there with his parents.

But he had a beautiful voice, she always loved to hear him sing.

She felt so loved as he she drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice. She faintly remembered a gentle kiss on her forehead just before she fell asleep.

Thor was confused at their interaction, especially as Rosie said nothing at first. Just stared at Loki in utter disbelief.

‘No…’ She shook her head and took a step backwards. ‘You… You don’t get to call me that anymore.’ She said quietly, her voice trembling as tears came to her eyes.

‘Rosie? What’s wrong, did he hurt you?’ Clint asked upon seeing the reaction.

Rosie grabbed the pile of paperwork off the table beside her and she ran off out of the kitchen, with tears falling down her face.

Clint turned to Loki. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do.’ He snapped at him.

‘I have nothing to explain to you, Hawk.’ Loki snarled.

Natasha and Pepper saw Rosie running out of the kitchen in floods of tears, they ran after her into her room. Natasha managed to grab the door before it closed on them.

‘Rosie? Rosie, what’s wrong?’ They both asked as they rushed in to her.

Rosie threw the papers on her bed and she started pacing back and fore, shaking and crying with her arms wrapped around herself. Pepper grabbed her and pulled her down to sit on the bed.

‘Rosie, please speak to us.’ She pleaded with her cousin as Natasha sat at the other side of her.

‘It… It’s him…’ She sobbed.

‘Who? Loki? Did he scare you? I told him not to be an asshole to anyone.’ Natasha said angrily.

‘He… He’s the one. Who I dated before.’ She blurted out, making Pepper and Natasha go silent in shock.

‘But… how?’ Pepper asked.

‘I met him one night in a club. And we dated for eleven months. I was in love with him, utterly and completely. I thought he was with me too. But then he just vanished and never came back one day. Then a few months later, I saw him on the TV… I didn’t tell anyone it was him, because I thought no one would believe me anyway. And what did it matter? It wouldn’t change anything.’ Rosie blurted out between crying.

‘Oh, Rosie. I wish you had told me.’ Pepper pulled her into a hug and cradled her head against her. ‘It’s ok, shhh, shhh. It’s going to be ok.’

Natasha rubbed her back softly. ‘If we had known, we would have warned you he was coming here. I’m so sorry.’

Rosie shook her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘No… It’s my fault, I should have told you. I just… it’s a shock to see him face to face.’

Natasha and Pepper nodded in understanding.

They stayed with her for a little while, then when she told them she was ok and was going to take a shower before bed, they left her to it.

But it ended up being the longest shower ever. She kept thinking about Loki and what they had together before.

Kept thinking of when they first met…

Rosie was super nervous when she walked into the BDSM club. But after months of talking herself into it, she finally had the courage to do it.

She didn’t dare tell any of her friends what she was into or what she was doing, perhaps foolish in a way as no one knew where she was. And she was on her own. But she was too embarrassed to tell anyone. Her friends wouldn’t understand.

She relaxed a tiny bit once she was there, noticing other people on their own as well. Getting a few drinks down her helped with her nerves too.

Some of the people she spoke to briefly were really nice. She met a lovely couple at the bar who asked if it was her first time there. They told her if she needed anything to feel free to ask them, not to be shy. That everyone there was really nice and friendly.

There were various demos on that she watched, there was a lot more to some scenes than met the eye. It really made her realise how on sites such as Fetlife and others, it was easy to get sucked into the wanna-be-Dom’s who likely had no idea what they were doing. Or how much safety came into it all.

‘Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you but I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a drink?’ A beautiful voice came from beside her when one of the demos on aftercare just finished.

Rosie turned and her breath was taken from her as she gazed up at an incredibly tall and handsome man.

‘I… I… Yeah, I would like that, thank you.’ Rosie stammered out, nodding over enthusiastically.

He grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth as he put his hand out towards her. ‘My name is Loki.’ He introduced.

‘I’m Rosie.’ She smiled up at him and put her hand into his. That’s when she noticed his gorgeous hands, so big and he had such long fingers. She blushed hard when he raised her hand up and he kissed the back of it, making her skin tingle like crazy.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Rosie.’ He said charmingly.

Loki gave her his arm and led her over to a free table near the bar. She was really nervous, and Loki could tell. But he soon had her at ease, just chatting away to her calmly and making her laugh almost straight away. She slowly began to relax in his presence.

‘Is this your first time here?’ He asked after buying them both another drink.

‘Is it that obvious?’ She cringed, making him chuckle.

‘Kind of. You did look a bit like a deer in the headlights. But that’s normal for first timers.’ Loki winked at her.

‘So, I’m guessing that means you’ve been here before?’

‘It does.’ He nodded. ‘Not often, it’s probably my fourth visit. Mainly just trying to meet new people, meet anyone that may potentially be interested in a Daddy Dom.’

Rosie’s eyes widened and she suddenly fell shy again as she looked down at her glass and swallowed hard. Loki raised an eyebrow, instantly realising that she was a little. He suspected she was a sub, but hadn’t been sure about the little aspect or not.

Loki leaned forward over the table towards her a little more. ‘Let me take a quick stab in the dark here… But I am presuming that you are a little?’

Her mouth opened and closed again. Then she just opted for nodding in response instead of trusting her voice to actually work.

Loki smiled softly. ‘Nothing to be shy about, sweetheart. That’s why lots of people come to these clubs, to meet their person.’

‘I… I guess so.’ She agreed.

They continued to talk for over an hour, not much about BDSM which Rosie found quite pleasant. He didn’t seem to want to jump straight in so quickly, which in turn made her trust him more and relax.

At the end of the night, Loki handed over a small card with his number on it. ‘There’s absolutely no pressure at all. But I’ve really enjoyed my night with you, Rosie. I would love to take you out on a date, perhaps out for lunch Saturday? But there’s no pressure, I don’t need an answer right now. Just text or call me to let me know. But if I don’t hear from you, that’s ok too. I totally understand.’

Rosie’s heart was racing. Could he get any more considerate? He wasn’t pressuring her at all, not asking for her number. Not even expecting her to contact him if she didn’t want to go on a date with him. Not even needing an answer straight away, what a gentleman.

Loki walked her outside the club and hailed a taxi for her, he even paid in advance for her, not taking no for an answer.

‘I just want to make sure I know you’ll get home safely. And I can’t help it, it’s the protective Daddy in me.’ He shrugged and chuckled, making her giggle shyly.

‘Thank you, Loki.’ She smiled widely at him as she got into the taxi and he closed the door for her once she was in.

He waved her off and she couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Of course, she did text him the following morning to say she would love nothing more than to go on a date with him on Saturday. If that was still what he wanted, too.

Loki replied within a minute, with a time and a place for their first date.

-

‘How DARE you!’ Pepper roared at Loki and launched for him, slapping him across the face. It barely made him flinch, but he clenched his jaw as he glared at her.

Everyone was surprised at Pepper’s outburst.

‘Woah, what did he do?’ Bruce asked.

‘HE is the one that broke my cousin’s heart. She was head over heels in love with you, asshole. Then you just disappeared on her, left her alone without even an explanation. No note, nothing.’ She snarled at him.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I did what was right. To protect her. She was better off without me.’

‘You did NOT do what was right. You have no idea what you’ve put her through this past year, how heartbroken she was. Still is!’ Pepper screeched.

Loki faltered. ‘Still is? Did she not find another, she’s a beautiful, incredible woman. How could she not find ano’

‘You are such a fucking idiot!’ Pepper screeched angrily and so wanted to slap him again, but she knew it was pointless.

The guys around him all put their face into their hands.

‘What?’ Loki asked, looking around.

‘That’s a low blow, man. Not even leaving her a note.’ Said Tony.

‘I… I thought I was doing the right thing.’ Loki said, looking at Thor.

Thor nodded. ‘I did not realise that your Rose was this Rosie… But yes, Loki thought he was doing right by her. He was in love with her, adored her. Never shut up about her. But when he discovered his true heritage on a short visit home, he decided not to go back to her. In fear of hurting her.’ Thor explained.

Pepper ran her hands down her face.

‘Well, you failed on that. You probably hurt her more by not at least saying you were over. You have no idea what she’s been through this last year.’ Pepper shook her head in disgust at Loki.

The team all murmured between them and left the room, leaving Loki with Thor.

For the first time in a long time, Thor saw his real brother back. He saw true emotion on his face again, sorrow and guilt.

‘I… I did not mean to hurt her.’ Loki said, still a bit confused. ‘I loved her, Thor… I do love her. I never stopped thinking about her, never loved another.’ He whispered.

Thor sighed and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. ‘I know, brother. I know.’

Loki thought back to the first time she had called him Daddy. How much it made his heart happy that she trusted and wanted him so much…

Rosie and Loki were snuggling on the sofa together, watching some cartoons that she loved. Loki wasn’t overly fond of them, but it made her happy so he always obliged. He was just happy to have her on his lap, comfortable and relaxed in his arms. Where she belonged.

He was lightly stroking her back underneath her top, making her skin tingle. She was in utter heaven, and Loki couldn’t get enough of just simply touching her. He needed touch in some way, whether he was just holding her hand or had the tips of his fingers on her skin, he needed and craved the intimacy with her.

Loki’s fingers trailed a bit too far to her side and up a little, making her squirm and giggle.

‘Daddy, that tickles!’ She laughed and tried to grab his hand to stop him.

But he had already stopped, freezing at what she said. That was the first time she had called him that, even in little space.

The biggest smile spread across his face and he buried his face into her hair and squeezed her tightly to him.

‘Sorry, my sweet little one. I forgot how ticklish you are.’ He purred.

[imagine-loki]

My Sweet Rose, Chapter 1

TITLE: My Sweet Rose CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are secretly a little but no one knows, one day you decide to check out a local BDSM club to try and get a feel of the community. You meet a handsome stranger that, over the next few months, shows you all about the lifestyle. However, one day… he vanishes without a word. 

RATING: M NOTES: Daddy/little dynamic & Flashbacks will be in Bold.

I’m not sure how long this story will be, I’m thinking no more than 5 chapters though. But I saw the imagine and omg I love it, had to do something with it. Haven’t written anymore of it yet but just HAD to share the first chapter so far, oops! lol. 

-

Rosie had been working and living in the Avengers tower for a week now, it was going really well. And it was helping to keep her mind occupied, getting her back on her feet after such a rough year.

She was a PA for Stark, and the other Avengers if they needed anything too. It was helping her cousin, Pepper out a lot. As Stark was very demanding nowadays and the others were becoming that way too.

It was also good for Rosie. She’d had a really tough year. She met someone a few years ago in a BDSM club, it had been her first time there after spending months building up the courage to go. She was a little, and had been wanting to find someone that she could feel safe with to explore that side of her.

She met a man, who was charming and handsome. Kind, funny. They fell in love, or so she thought anyway. He was the perfect Daddy Dom for her, teaching her everything and looking after her. She adored and loved him so much. Which is why when one day he just vanished, it was all the harder for her.

He just never returned after saying he had to go home to visit his family, who lived in Iceland apparently. But he did that regularly and always returned to her. But not that time. To say she was heartbroken when there was not even a call or a text from him explaining why was an understatement.

His name was Loki. And it became clear what happened a few months later after his disappearance, she saw him on the news. Loki, the God Of Mischief, was trying to take over the world. She couldn’t believe it and thought she was dreaming when she realised it had was her Loki. He looked different in the heavy armour, he looked scary.

But she thought no wonder he left her, he was a God and a Prince after all. What would he have wanted with her in the first place anyway?

She had tried a couple of times to date someone else, but never made it past the first date. As they just… weren’t him. No matter how often she tried to just forget about him. It was difficult.

She’d fallen into a downward spiral, not even able to go to work. So she had lost her job and was on benefits for a while. She became really anxious and nervous.

But here, in the tower, she was trying to turn herself around again. It had been one man, even if he had been her first true love, in her heart anyway. She knew she would heal, in time. Even if it had been over a year.

Rosie had been so engrossed in sorting out some paperwork for Tony that she never noticed the newcomer coming into the kitchen. She barely even registered Thor introducing her to him. ‘This is Rosie, our PA, she’s new here.’

Not until she heard an all too familiar voice responding that sent shivers down her spine and sent her heart racing.

‘Rosie… My sweet Rose?’

There was only one person who had ever called her that.

Slowly she looked up, eyes widening, standing before her was Loki.

‘Oh my sweet Rose, you’ve done Daddy so proud.’ Loki purred gently as he cradled her in his lap.

She felt so safe and secure, curled up against him as he wrapped a blanket around her naked body. Knowing how cold she always got after they’d played together quite so intensely.

Loki rocked her back and fore softly as he ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her. She was trembling a bit after her orgasms, Loki had pushed her almost past her limit, but he knew. He always knew when to stop at the right time.

He was an intense Daddy, and could be really strict at times. But he was fair and ever so kind. He had his goofy moments and was extremely playful too, which she loved. He was never angry with her, always calm and collected. Even when she misbehaved, not that that happened often.

She clung to his shirt so tightly, never wanting to let go. Loki had to carefully remove her hand from his shirt just so he could change them into a different position, getting them both under the blanket so he could have her snuggled up next to him. He knew she would fall asleep soon.

‘Daddy.’ She whispered quietly, sounding so vulnerable.

‘Yes, my little one?’ Loki asked, engulfing her small hand in his large one.

‘Can you sing to me?’

Loki smiled. ‘Of course, my sweetling.’

He began singing to her in Asgardian, but he had told her before it was Icelandic. She had no reason not to believe him, especially since he told her he’d grown up there with his parents.

But he had a beautiful voice, she always loved to hear him sing.

She felt so loved as he she drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice. She faintly remembered a gentle kiss on her forehead just before she fell asleep.

Thor was confused at their interaction, especially as Rosie said nothing at first. Just stared at Loki in utter disbelief.

‘No…’ She shook her head and took a step backwards. ‘You… You don’t get to call me that anymore.’ She said quietly, her voice trembling as tears came to her eyes.

‘Rosie? What’s wrong, did he hurt you?’ Clint asked upon seeing the reaction.

Rosie grabbed the pile of paperwork off the table beside her and she ran off out of the kitchen, with tears falling down her face.

Clint turned to Loki. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do.’ He snapped at him.

‘I have nothing to explain to you, Hawk.’ Loki snarled.

Natasha and Pepper saw Rosie running out of the kitchen in floods of tears, they ran after her into her room. Natasha managed to grab the door before it closed on them.

‘Rosie? Rosie, what’s wrong?’ They both asked as they rushed in to her.

Rosie threw the papers on her bed and she started pacing back and fore, shaking and crying with her arms wrapped around herself. Pepper grabbed her and pulled her down to sit on the bed.

‘Rosie, please speak to us.’ She pleaded with her cousin as Natasha sat at the other side of her.

‘It… It’s him…’ She sobbed.

‘Who? Loki? Did he scare you? I told him not to be an asshole to anyone.’ Natasha said angrily.

‘He… He’s the one. Who I dated before.’ She blurted out, making Pepper and Natasha go silent in shock.

‘But… how?’ Pepper asked.

‘I met him one night in a club. And we dated for eleven months. I was in love with him, utterly and completely. I thought he was with me too. But then he just vanished and never came back one day. Then a few months later, I saw him on the TV… I didn’t tell anyone it was him, because I thought no one would believe me anyway. And what did it matter? It wouldn’t change anything.’ Rosie blurted out between crying.

‘Oh, Rosie. I wish you had told me.’ Pepper pulled her into a hug and cradled her head against her. ‘It’s ok, shhh, shhh. It’s going to be ok.’

Natasha rubbed her back softly. ‘If we had known, we would have warned you he was coming here. I’m so sorry.’

Rosie shook her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘No… It’s my fault, I should have told you. I just… it’s a shock to see him face to face.’

Natasha and Pepper nodded in understanding.

They stayed with her for a little while, then when she told them she was ok and was going to take a shower before bed, they left her to it.

But it ended up being the longest shower ever. She kept thinking about Loki and what they had together before.

Kept thinking of when they first met…

Rosie was super nervous when she walked into the BDSM club. But after months of talking herself into it, she finally had the courage to do it.

She didn’t dare tell any of her friends what she was into or what she was doing, perhaps foolish in a way as no one knew where she was. And she was on her own. But she was too embarrassed to tell anyone. Her friends wouldn’t understand.

She relaxed a tiny bit once she was there, noticing other people on their own as well. Getting a few drinks down her helped with her nerves too.

Some of the people she spoke to briefly were really nice. She met a lovely couple at the bar who asked if it was her first time there. They told her if she needed anything to feel free to ask them, not to be shy. That everyone there was really nice and friendly.

There were various demos on that she watched, there was a lot more to some scenes than met the eye. It really made her realise how on sites such as Fetlife and others, it was easy to get sucked into the wanna-be-Dom’s who likely had no idea what they were doing. Or how much safety came into it all.

‘Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you but I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a drink?’ A beautiful voice came from beside her when one of the demos on aftercare just finished.

Rosie turned and her breath was taken from her as she gazed up at an incredibly tall and handsome man.

‘I… I… Yeah, I would like that, thank you.’ Rosie stammered out, nodding over enthusiastically.

He grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth as he put his hand out towards her. ‘My name is Loki.’ He introduced.

‘I’m Rosie.’ She smiled up at him and put her hand into his. That’s when she noticed his gorgeous hands, so big and he had such long fingers. She blushed hard when he raised her hand up and he kissed the back of it, making her skin tingle like crazy.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Rosie.’ He said charmingly.

Loki gave her his arm and led her over to a free table near the bar. She was really nervous, and Loki could tell. But he soon had her at ease, just chatting away to her calmly and making her laugh almost straight away. She slowly began to relax in his presence.

‘Is this your first time here?’ He asked after buying them both another drink.

‘Is it that obvious?’ She cringed, making him chuckle.

‘Kind of. You did look a bit like a deer in the headlights. But that’s normal for first timers.’ Loki winked at her.

‘So, I’m guessing that means you’ve been here before?’

‘It does.’ He nodded. ‘Not often, it’s probably my fourth visit. Mainly just trying to meet new people, meet anyone that may potentially be interested in a Daddy Dom.’

Rosie’s eyes widened and she suddenly fell shy again as she looked down at her glass and swallowed hard. Loki raised an eyebrow, instantly realising that she was a little. He suspected she was a sub, but hadn’t been sure about the little aspect or not.

Loki leaned forward over the table towards her a little more. ‘Let me take a quick stab in the dark here… But I am presuming that you are a little?’

Her mouth opened and closed again. Then she just opted for nodding in response instead of trusting her voice to actually work.

Loki smiled softly. ‘Nothing to be shy about, sweetheart. That’s why lots of people come to these clubs, to meet their person.’

‘I… I guess so.’ She agreed.

They continued to talk for over an hour, not much about BDSM which Rosie found quite pleasant. He didn’t seem to want to jump straight in so quickly, which in turn made her trust him more and relax.

At the end of the night, Loki handed over a small card with his number on it. ‘There’s absolutely no pressure at all. But I’ve really enjoyed my night with you, Rosie. I would love to take you out on a date, perhaps out for lunch Saturday? But there’s no pressure, I don’t need an answer right now. Just text or call me to let me know. But if I don’t hear from you, that’s ok too. I totally understand.’

Rosie’s heart was racing. Could he get any more considerate? He wasn’t pressuring her at all, not asking for her number. Not even expecting her to contact him if she didn’t want to go on a date with him. Not even needing an answer straight away, what a gentleman.

Loki walked her outside the club and hailed a taxi for her, he even paid in advance for her, not taking no for an answer.

‘I just want to make sure I know you’ll get home safely. And I can’t help it, it’s the protective Daddy in me.’ He shrugged and chuckled, making her giggle shyly.

‘Thank you, Loki.’ She smiled widely at him as she got into the taxi and he closed the door for her once she was in.

He waved her off and she couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Of course, she did text him the following morning to say she would love nothing more than to go on a date with him on Saturday. If that was still what he wanted, too.

Loki replied within a minute, with a time and a place for their first date.

-

‘How DARE you!’ Pepper roared at Loki and launched for him, slapping him across the face. It barely made him flinch, but he clenched his jaw as he glared at her.

Everyone was surprised at Pepper’s outburst.

‘Woah, what did he do?’ Bruce asked.

‘HE is the one that broke my cousin’s heart. She was head over heels in love with you, asshole. Then you just disappeared on her, left her alone without even an explanation. No note, nothing.’ She snarled at him.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I did what was right. To protect her. She was better off without me.’

‘You did NOT do what was right. You have no idea what you’ve put her through this past year, how heartbroken she was. Still is!’ Pepper screeched.

Loki faltered. ‘Still is? Did she not find another, she’s a beautiful, incredible woman. How could she not find ano’

‘You are such a fucking idiot!’ Pepper screeched angrily and so wanted to slap him again, but she knew it was pointless.

The guys around him all put their face into their hands.

‘What?’ Loki asked, looking around.

‘That’s a low blow, man. Not even leaving her a note.’ Said Tony.

‘I… I thought I was doing the right thing.’ Loki said, looking at Thor.

Thor nodded. ‘I did not realise that your Rose was this Rosie… But yes, Loki thought he was doing right by her. He was in love with her, adored her. Never shut up about her. But when he discovered his true heritage on a short visit home, he decided not to go back to her. In fear of hurting her.’ Thor explained.

Pepper ran her hands down her face.

‘Well, you failed on that. You probably hurt her more by not at least saying you were over. You have no idea what she’s been through this last year.’ Pepper shook her head in disgust at Loki.

The team all murmured between them and left the room, leaving Loki with Thor.

For the first time in a long time, Thor saw his real brother back. He saw true emotion on his face again, sorrow and guilt.

‘I… I did not mean to hurt her.’ Loki said, still a bit confused. ‘I loved her, Thor… I do love her. I never stopped thinking about her, never loved another.’ He whispered.

Thor sighed and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. ‘I know, brother. I know.’

Loki thought back to the first time she had called him Daddy. How much it made his heart happy that she trusted and wanted him so much…

Rosie and Loki were snuggling on the sofa together, watching some cartoons that she loved. Loki wasn’t overly fond of them, but it made her happy so he always obliged. He was just happy to have her on his lap, comfortable and relaxed in his arms. Where she belonged.

He was lightly stroking her back underneath her top, making her skin tingle. She was in utter heaven, and Loki couldn’t get enough of just simply touching her. He needed touch in some way, whether he was just holding her hand or had the tips of his fingers on her skin, he needed and craved the intimacy with her.

Loki’s fingers trailed a bit too far to her side and up a little, making her squirm and giggle.

‘Daddy, that tickles!’ She laughed and tried to grab his hand to stop him.

But he had already stopped, freezing at what she said. That was the first time she had called him that, even in little space.

The biggest smile spread across his face and he buried his face into her hair and squeezed her tightly to him.

‘Sorry, my sweet little one. I forgot how ticklish you are.’ He purred.

[yanderes-stuff]

5; 8 and 9 please and nsfw is optional.

Yes, the feral trio I never did a poly yandere before, and sorry for being so late school was holding me at gunpoint

P.s it's 1:43 am where im at and I got zoom at 7:10 I'll edit the grammar mistakes later but I didn't want you to have to wait any longer

Characters: Skully, Masky, Hoodie

Words 5k 

TW: yandere thoughts, cussing, kidnapping, drugging 

You met Jay during college when the teacher put you both together for a school project, you got to have a good read on his personality with Jay, being a curious goofy character with a charming atmosphere surrounding him.

After a while, you decided to start the project filming causal nature. you both shared a passion for nature being calmed by the forest, and the woodland creatures which made you closer. After a while, you noticed that he would rarely talk to any of his other friends in favor of talking to you.

This led to many intervals where you caught him staring at you during class and followed you around like a puppy which although made you irritated you brushed it off thinking nothing of it, after all, it's just goofy Jay being Jay.

But alas he fell victim to your charm the conversations he had with you stuck with him and the moments where you were in his presence kept him going till the next day, you reached his heart unlike anybody else he met, and he lived for you alone perhaps it was the way you carried yourself through the gloomy days or the way you were more kind-hearted than anyone he ever met.

He longed to catch your eye and make you laugh but certain feelings were starting to stew inside him whenever he caught your friends talking to you especially if they were putting their hands on your beautiful body and even if they did so casually it made him infuriated he believed that he should be the only one that should be graced by your presence not them

After all, you never knew their intentions but he had a gut feeling they weren't good they didn't love you they only loved you for your looks and looks alone but he loved everything about you and he didn't know why but alas he had friends who were close to you those friends being Brian and Tim his colleague's since high school 

However, he had to obtain your affection and warmth to protect you so he wormed his way into your dating life because he had known your crush had his dark secrets that he cheated on his exes and he just couldn't let this snake wrap his suffocating coil and sink his poisonous fangs into you for his esteem 

So to resolve this fear of his he followed him home in the dark and threatened to shoot him if he didn't avoid you like a plague but without his knowledge, he didn't know that he was being watched by none other than Tim who mentally noted with haste that he's not the only one who took a liking to you and strolled out of Jay's sight before he could notice him

Relief washed over as he went back to his secret home surrounded by woods away from his lonely college dorm comforted by the fact that the guy that tried to use you had been put in his rightful place now thanks to him all he had to worry about now was the fact that his other friends also shared a connection with you that was too close for his liking 

You were his everything now and while he still cherished his friends he wasn't going to let either of them have you even if it put him in danger of course you only saw the good in people and that would include Tim and Brian which he would grow to admire but it would also make him nervous but despite that he knows you love him and he had to make a move quickly to prove he's the only right one for you

Oh how he longed to be anything that would make you happy and today being Valentine's day he promised himself this was going to be the day he asks you out and you'll say yes or at least he certainly hoped you would he grabbed a few things from the store some gifts he hoped would win your appreciation but he had a thought cropped in his mind what if you rejected him and if you did do such a thing how distraught he would be 

He waved away those thoughts in his mind trying to convince himself he played his cards right after all he frightened any competition away from you while making sure to be by your side at every moment you needed him the thought of your gentle voice accepting his confession of love made his uneasy mind now calm and focused 

Once he reached the school province he took the bag of gifts consisting of chocolates of your favorite brand and bouquets of lovely crimson flowers that are a symbol of his love for you he was finally ready to be your lover and he sure as hell hoped you were too as that thought passed his mind he peeked his head around the corner to your dorm 

What he saw made his blood boil and felt a violent sensation he couldn't understand at the time and what he witnessed was Tim brushing his lips against your while caressing your cheek with his rough hand you weren't flinching away but rather leaning in into the troublesome kiss he didn't know Tim could do this he thought he made it clear that she belonged to him

Tim look so entranced by the way your chest raised and fell in sync with his own as he leaned closer with his arm bending above your head caging you against your dorm door 

While Jay was peaking he noticed that Tim had a card with a heart placed on in front of it in one of his hands 

He quickly pieced together that he had gotten to you first before him as he felt despair overwhelm him why did you have to love Tim of all people he quickly grabbed the gifts and descended the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible at the same time he felt hot tears stain his bitter cheeks that day he drove back to his home weeping 

But as he stepped inside an environment of misery following behind him as he sat down on the sofa he didn't think he'd have the guts to kill Tim but little did he know that someone else was in the room with him that individual being Tim and although he didn't want to admit it

Tim planned to kill Jay ever since he witnessed him threaten to kill his old crush since you confessed about liking him which was a big mistake on your part but Tim was glad Jay took care of him but now he had to kill Jay but he acknowledges he didn't want to at all but Tim was afraid of what Jay was capable of when it comes to his unstableness

He knew Jay was infatuated with you and that he's been getting more and more unusual as you continued to spend time with him and he started to dissociate with Brian and Tim which was starting to get concerning because Jay was starting to become extra dependent on your affection to distract him from all the chaos going on in his life

But Jay himself was starting to take drastic measures to prove himself to you and Tim never thought Jay could be capable of violence but he's seen firsthand that he the man that he thought wouldn't harm an insect was contemplating murder out of love 

 

So with guilt, he grabbed his firearm and stared as Jay slowly was lured into a deep slumber he slowly opened the oak closet door so that it was vastly ajar and he tiptoed quietly towards Jays sleeping form beads of sweat was beginning to form on his forehead

Once he loomed over the trembling man's resting figure his silhouette casting a shadow over him his hands shook as he raised the revolver to Jay's temple and his finger was on the trigger there was a small click followed by a thunderous bang 

The gory sight of Jay would be etched into his mind for the rest of his life but it would be worth it to protect you but he had to admit it he for some reason felt relief in his mind and another feeling that was off it was a euphoric adrenaline rush he noticed that he was still shaking and realized that he should evade the scene as quickly as possible back to you

You were sleeping so soundly in Tims dorm and Hoodie thought your sleeping form was so beautiful so vulnerable he's been watching you for a while through Brian and he thought this would be the perfect moment to steal you away after he saw the note Tim wrote a letter to you inviting you to come to his place for valentines day 

How romantic of him too bad Hoodies going to whisk you away now he recalls seeing you and Tim go on a dinner date in Tim's kitchen he prepared your favorite dish the reason he knows this was because he placed cameras in more secretive places to check on Tim and his episodes when he would become Masky and go out to do God knows what 

Hoodie knew Tim was trying to keep he alter personality a secret from you as well as hide his more obsessive side when he would become Masky he would stalk you and take pictures of you going about your day and attach it to his wall later to look at when Tims feeling emotional which Tim had to compile in a box the day previously so you wouldn't freak out at him

Which Hoodie would probably have to steal along with you was a thought that came across his mind as he prepared a syringe with an unknown liquid inside of it from underneath Tims mattress he watched the scruffy brunette man got up and picked up a revolver from the drawer with his pale hands and walked out making sure to keep the gun hidden from anyone's view 

Once he was out of sight propped up upon his shoulders he began crawling out from under the bed as quietly as possible as not to disturb your sleep as he stood up gazing upon your softly snoring form as he was searching for the perfect spot to prick your neck with the fluid once he found it he punctured the soft flesh injecting the liquid in your bloodstream you awoke for a second not long enough to examine him but only to be held down by the powerful man as he clasped his rough fingers around your both your wrist 

"Shhhhhhh [Name.] baby just relax" he mumbled somewhat gently with a smug smile etched on his face, his thoughts instantly twisting into ideas of what he was going to do to you when you finally got back to where you truly belonged. "Everything is going to be just fine."

As soon as the drug invaded your mind and your world faded once again at the same time he hastily took you into his arms and started his journey back to his abandoned cabin into the darkness of the night and when he reached his own home he settled you in the bed in his room with ropes gripping your hands attached to the old oak foundation of the bed as he snuggled into your warm body once he was feeling bold as the night proceeded

"I've been wanting to do this for a fucking real long time." He mutters under his breath into the crook of the cozy soft flesh of your neck "Best part is that he doesn't know where I live so he can't take you away."

Tim didn't know what the hell could've happened while he visited Jay but all he knew was that something was wrong and now you were missing with no signs clues of to where you might be it was only when he found a note under the blankets with just three words that made his blood run cold 

She's mine now

Now he knew has an idea of who could've done it Brian has been strange as well lately by giving death glares to him when Tim tries to flirt with you not only that but he seemed to be more encouraging of Jay's stalkerish behavior Tim now realized the mistake he made earlier by leaving you alone to murder Jay before he could murder him Tim believed the only reason Brian was nudging Jay to stalk you was to get Jay to stop bothering him and let him live in peace but now that Jay was dead there was no other suspect left but Brian 

As he was piecing together what could've transpired he heard a buzzing coming from his cell phone he took the phone in his hand while the faint glow of light was still emanating when the device as he saw the message from none other than Brian with a string of numbers possibly coordinates to his location where he kidnapped you from him while he was busy

His breath started to get more uneven with his eyes dilating out of fear while thoughts flew past his mind about your safety he was started to hold himself with his hands gripping diagonally at his upper arms while the fabric of his flannel creased as a reaction to his strength he started to tremble not out of distress but resentment his knuckles started transforming into a snowy white from how hard he was clenching his fist

His mind was beginning to feel fuzzy as his own thoughts were starting to get quiet but the static in his mind was getting only louder followed by a loud booming voice that was starting to overtake him again but this time he welcomed it as he didn't know what other actions he could take

Once it finally overtook him a sinister simile was plastered upon his parched slips he was going to get you back and slaughter Brian as atonement for stealing you and maybe keep you in the cabin away from the violence and then he would fix everything thus you would belong to him

"Fuck Brian you know I'd do anything to protect [Name.] anything for her to be mine." He growled under his breath, eyes now focused on the porcelain mask with dark circles around its eyes with eyes knitted up in what appears to be suprise and pitch jet lips on the wall he told you was just for decoration "You're about to regret what you've just done." He remarks followed by a deep huskier chuckle

He clutches his handgun yet again and sets off on a search to locate the coordinates stepping into his vehicle and sliding in the keys before turning it to start the engine and pulling out of the college campus parking lot now focusing on the road in front of him and driving into the nightfall as to not be discerned by anybody 

When he finally reached the trail to the cabin he started sprinting his way to whatever location Brian had sent him he had no time to waste following a trail of footprints of crunched leaves and snapped twigs on the surface of the ground floor when he finally reached the window of the cabin he stood and pressed an ear to listen for activity in case Brian was preparing an ambush for him in one of the rooms 

He heard the sound of a struggle and the sounds of thuds something else that he couldn't quite make out but it was still extremely worrying 

Bam...bam...bam! "AARGH!"  followed by a thunderous crackling of somebody he couldn't make out the voices clearly but he could at least assume what's occurring...what if it was Brian hurting you because you did something that made him extremely furious if that were the case he'd have to come and rescue you but at the same time he'd have to keep his alter ego a secret to avoid your concern for him

He quickly wrapped his fingers around a nearby rock and launched it directly at the cabin glass window instantly shattering it to sharp pieces and stepping through it carefully and at that moment he could make out masculine yells coming from the room in front of him now he is certain the voice wasn't actually you much to his relief 

As he more steps towards the door intertwining his fingers against the knob of the old wooden door and twisting while at the same time putting his strength against the ancient oak entryway he could still make out another familiar yet unknown voice furiously screaming along with Brian shouting among all the commotion which fueled his yearning to harm Brian for bringing both you and him into his annoying scheme even moree

Then as he walked inside the miserable room with the white paint heavily chipping away following that sight he witnessed Brian in a vibrant orange yellowish hoody stained in certain places with what appears to be blood along with a pitch-black fabric mask covering the entirety of his head beside the hood that was pulled over his head another thing he noticed on the material placed on Brian's face was a red frown along with crimson pinpoint dots for eyes additionally just plain worn out jeans that looked to be somewhat dirty he realized that this wasn't actually Brian but his alter ego whose name was unmistakably known to him as hoodie but he was still going to execute him nonetheless for possibly harming you 

But the other figure straddling Brian clutching a cell phone above him  looked somewhat familiar with a coffee brown leather jacket with a black hood that was also above his head he noticed the man's jacket happens to also be tinted in particular spots with that easily recognizable red liquid in addition to this he wore a mask that resembled that of a skeleton with two rows of square teeth and dark circles on both of the holes where his eyes would be with eyebrows that looked to be expressing with curiosity 

"Give me back my phone right now you fucker!" Brian hissed eyes glaring up at the man on above of him trying to get to pry the man off him "And get the fuck off of me!" He added with a hint of irritation 

"SHE'S MINE SHE'S MINE YOU CAN'T HAVE HER SHE'S MINE!" The man snarled in an outrage his tone obviously hysterical as he raised his other fist preparing to hit Hoodie with a flurry of punches aimed at his already bloody face

As Masky stepped closer to the scene there was a painfully audible creak and both men stopped for a second before their head began tilting over to Masky's direction than the mysterious man spoke his words flowing out of his mouth like fluid 

"Well...well...well remember me?" He implored Masky swiftly changing his tone from outrage to relaxed while staring at him intently still with that emotionless mask whilst Hoodie kept swatting for the man to get off of him 

"No who the hell are you and did you send me that text." He questions feeling himself getting more disgruntled with this confusing situation he opens his mouth to speak once again "And where is [Name.] What did you do to her!?" His eyes gaze directly at the unusual man 

"Oh, you don't recall me, your friend? that you shot dead in my own home!" The man glares and scowls at Masky the unpleasant memory started to rise in his mind again "You took my love then you took my life and now I'm back for vengeance" 

"Jay?" Masky grumbled, "there's no way I killed you, why aren't you dead?!" He shouted his mind racing with questions maybe he was just hallucinating this whole predicament 

"Close im Skully, but about your little question I'd rather not answer that." Skully answered back Hoodie now was panting under him from a combination of him being crushed under his weight and his failed attempts to injure Skully with his sore bloody knuckles

 

Hoodie was beginning to feel lightheaded from only getting to inhale so much oxygen just when he thought he was about to black out Skully stood up with his eyes boring into Maskys then Skully spoke

"I'm going to...kill you then I'll kill hoodie then she'll be mine all mine." Skully's breathing started to hitch and become heavier like a bear's breathing as he slowly took a step towards Masky "it's going to be all okay everything's going to be fine it's about to be the way it should be."

You started to thrash around in your bounds fortunately to you it was becoming looser you tried to observe the darkness of the environment around you to tried to find a way to escape back to safety there were windows but they were boarded up but there was an old door which caught your eye as you limped over to it still sore from the burns of the rope that felt like a harsh heat

As you wrapped your hand around the knob and pushed you heard the conversation of people in the next room so then out of curiosity you put your ear to the door you could make out a thickly deep voice and some the sounds of some light coughing along with Tims's voice which filled you with both relief and fear

Because on one hand, Tim is here to save you from this place but on the other what if he got wounded by that other man after thinking about what to do in this situation for a minute that felt like an eternity you decided it would be best to step into the room help Tim beat that man and escape with his help and call the authorities

As you stepped into the room everybody peered in your direction you caught a good look at them one being Tim with his dark brown hair and yellow jacket and worn jeans and a white mask covering his face with what looks to have dark lips and circles encasing the holes meant for the eyes the man in front him looked a bit similar 

He has a tan leather jacket with a raven black hood and the same worn pants and a white mask white rectangular teeth and the same dark circles around the eyes as Tims but this time with the same eyebrows settled in a surprised manner in your direction as if they were startled by you waltzing in the room

And then finally there was that easily recognizable sound of Brian's roughly breathing you heard in your sleep but right now he was on the floor laid flat with blood with a yellow orangish cloth hood along with ordinary jeans and a black cover mask with crimson red frown and two dots for eyes above it

"What's going on! who are you?" You questioned loudly, eyes flickering around the room. you were wondering why they were in costumes was Tim in on this sick circumstance?

"I'm here for you my beloved and im Jay but...in a different form," he announced casually as he made a fist and pointed his thumb to his face "My names now Skully" 

You were confused because Skully didn't look like Jay whatsoever he was taller and his voice was a lot deeper almost in a chilling way and his figure looked to be more stronger than Jay with his broad shoulders but the only thing that was the same about him was the way he spoke 

"[Name.] Give me a minute to deal with him. I won't be needing your help." Masky sighs casually trying to weave away in his mind to distract Skully so your as least scared as possible 

"That's quite a rude way to talk." Skully quickly brought out his hand and grabbed his pocket knife from out of his jean pocket while using his other hand to clench Masky's throat blocking his airways while Masky started making choking sounds trying to struggle out of his grasp 

"If you kill him I won't ever love you!" You blurted out of desperation trying to save your lover from getting his throat slashed from Skully's blade your eyes now are being focused on Tims trembling body

Skully faltered at this his breathing now became even more intense then he dropped Tim with a dull thud then he started to clutch his arms and rocked himself ever so slightly back and forth in an attempt to comfort himself from your words

While Skully was distracted Hoodie who was now back to full willpower  hastily got up as quick as possible and clenched Skullys knife from behind and had it now hovering over Skullys throat Hoodie didn't say a word and just when he was about to make the slit you perked up

"No, don't kill him either for the love of God!" You cried out you didn't believe that what Skully possibly done was right but that doesn't mean you want him to perish you took a quick breather before continuing "Don't or else I be able to love you either" 

Instead of trying to comfort himself in an attempt to forget your words he just gave a disappointed sigh and slowly backed away from Skully while he raised his hands in surrender secretly smirking under his mask now comforted that you saved him

Masky was now staring at Hoodie already reaching in his pocket for his handgun but before he could you interrupted "That goes the same for you too Tim."

And with that, he stopped in his tracks and looked from Hoodie to you with a blank stare so you couldn't be able to get a read with how upset he was that you would say such a thing especially when it was Hoodie that did this to you and dragged him into it 

"Actually I got an idea," Hoodie speaks enthusiastically eyeing everyone in the room chuckling as ideas resurfacing in his head then smirking to himself "If [Name.] Hates it when we're at each other's throats then let's just share her"

Skully had a thousand-yard expression yard stare then he uttered "Actually as much as I hate sharing I'd rather share than be genuinely despised by my sweetheart."

"I'm going to be honest I'm tired of me and [Name.] Getting stressed by college and...I would rather spend more time with her" Masky spoke softly yet reluctantly while his eyes glanced at yours lovingly "And I'd prefer not to kill my friends despite what they've done" 

your lips started to depart to talk attempting to sound stern but your voice came out meek "I'm not sure about this." Your stare now focused on the floor and not any of the men in front of you who on the other hand were staring right into your eyes

Now your mind was frantic on one side how are you supposed to split your affection between three of the closest people in your life all the time and also you loved Jay and Brian as a friend and maybe Tim as a lover but you didn't want them to be at each other's throats especially Skully since he appeared to be tougher than the other two men another thing to note is that all three of them could easily hurt you although you can sense that they didn't want to

But what if they forced you into this scenario if you resisted would they punish you or your family so with that last thought in mind you decided it would be best to accept their offer after all it would be selfish to have somebody dying just because you resisted their demented obsession with you and after all…maybe you'll learn to love them over time

So trying to hide the anxiety in your voice and the heat on your cheeks you spoke loudly enough for them to hear "I've decided that your offer is for the best so I'll accept." their face lit up at your words

Skully was the first one to step towards you at a slow pace as he wrapped his arms under your own in a warm tight embrace whilst he put his chin atop your soft hair 

Then Hoodie came trapping you in a side hug nestling into your shoulder while you could feel him against your skin grinning ear to ear through the mask 

Then there was Masky who came up from behind and settled his rough hands down on your shoulders then he bent down to kiss the back of your neck which made you jolt in surprise in response to this he just chuckled then he bent down and put his arms under your legs and swept you off your feet while the other two men backed off now carrying you bridal style 

Then he started to head back into the bedroom where you woke up in taking the lead while the other two followed then setting you down gently atop the soft oak bed while Hoodie reached for something underneath the bed much to your dismay while you were caged in the middle of the bed between Skully and Masky then Hoodie stood up with a syringe in hand while Masky snaked his arms over yours so that your arms were to your side and you were pulled flush against him feeling him purring against your neck while Skully began to stroke your hair with one hand in an attempt to calm you while his other hand was tracing patterns on your thigh

Hoodie slowly came on top of the mattress putting a finger to his lips while silently shushing you not to struggle as you felt the familiar prick of your skin as your sight began to fade and turn black 

"Shhhh love you made the right choice we're so glad but now is the time you get your rest." Was the last thing you heard from Masky's lips before you fell into a deep sleep.

[xoxoangel]

okay SO i wanted to share this snippet from what i’m writing rn , bc i want to post SOMETHING that’s writing LOLOL

*ahem ahem*

“I’m not good at these things, you know. But, I meant everything I said. You are special to me. So special. It kills me not to wake up next to you. Not seeing that familiar smile everyday, feeling your hand on mine, and especially those fucking puppy eyes,” The nomad could feel his heart beating like crazy, as she smiled into his chest. V used his other arm to pull her in an embrace, planting a kiss on her head.

“I really can’t promise you anything, Pan. But I do know one thing. If I ever have to choose between you or anything else, it’ll always be you.” The last sentence shattered the wall Panam had built. The wall that kept her heart safe for years, the one she grew so fondly of. Her heart was now starting to pound too, her stomach turning delightfully. Had this been a month or so ago, she would’ve looked up at him and asked if he meant it. But V’s voice was far from stable now, it was trembling. It never trembled. V had prided himself on his confidence, his stature. The ability to not break. The way he held himself together, but there was nothing of that left. V was unsteady. Vulnerable. Extremely vulnerable.

“And yes, that includes Night City.” V’s voice croaked, the woman could feel his lungs straining trying to keep his voice from breaking. Panam broke away, now looking at him with widened eyes. Her mocha eyes were starting to look shiny—maybe even a little watery. V’s eyebrows raised high, as if they were about to float away. Panic flashed over his face, tilting his head down looking confused. His eyes frantically scanned Panam’s face, absolute terror in his eyes. The woman’s lips turned into a gradual smile, although her eyes still watering.

“You.. fucking gonk,” Her voice shook with disbelief, slamming his chest with her fist, except for once it wasn’t with force.

“You have to be kidding.” But V shook his head, still in panic mode. He was confused on whether or not he upset her, wiping away a tear about to fall with his finger.

“I want to come with you, Pan. When you leave.” His look of worry turned into a nervous grin, his eyes still looking haunted.

“Don’t want me to move in?” He joked wearily. Panam just smiled at him fondly, tearfully admiring him. She’d forgotten just how beautiful he really was to her. The light from the fireplace highlighted his bruise that covered his right eye and bottom lip, the purple now turning into more of a orange. But V was most beautiful to her when his eyes were on hers. When his warm, almost black eyes reminiscent of her coffee in the morning met hers. When he’d smile, and it was as bright as the moon looking over the desert. The annoyingly charming half smirk he gave her, the exact same look she’d only seen him give when he looked in the sky.

Maybe V had always been there, always been that comfort she desperately craved. The comfort that wasn’t temporary, the kind hidden in plain sight. It was never set nor sure, but always a guarantee that it will be okay. V had become an unconventional love, but it was the right love. The epic kind. She realized that even if—god, she hated even contemplating the idea. Even if V would die, he would live on. In her coffee, in the moon, and along the stars. He would watch over her, right next to Ursa Major. Right next to their constellation. There was an old Aldecaldo saying—“She who lives in the hearts of her loved ones can never truly die.” In this very moment, she couldn’t even grasp the concept of an Afterlife. Hell is real, that was for certain. Night City was hell. But what about heaven? What’s the need for heaven when heaven is on Earth with V? When heaven is her hands, tangled in his thick curls? When heaven is his lingering hand on hers, and his goofy laugh ringing in her ears?

Panam snapped out of her thoughts, as V just zoned out into the distance, at least his eyes had some color now. She assumed he was having another conversation with Johnny. Speak of the devil— Johnny was right behind V, his hands on top of the younger mans shoulders.

“That was some heavy shit, V. God, I think you’re in love.” There was an ounce of disgust from that statement, but even bigger ounce of worry. Normally, V would deny. Deny, deny, deny. Love wasn’t for him—for people like him. The merc was strict to his one night stands, anything more meant eventual heartbreak.

But Panam was different, he really did believe she was special. He wasn’t sure what love was—what it meant, really. Sure, he knew what it entailed. He’d even sit through the cheesy Hallmark movies, and read all the novels that Johnny swore was the product of satan. But V had never understood the feeling. The insects in his stomach—corny music swelling when he saw the so-called “one” (although considering he heard Johnny’s voice in his head, music probably wouldn’t be far off). That changed as soon as he’d meet Panam. Not exactly love at first sight, but when he really met her. When she downed a bottle of beer in like half a minute, or when she told him about the time the entire clan made her try weed for the first time and she fell off a big ass rock. Especially, the story about her doing drunk karaoke to ABBA.

Yeah, the ABBA one particularly pulled at his heartstrings. But, he really would be an absolute idiot not to acknowledge the non-cheesy aspects of their relationship too. Panam had done more than just help V find Hellman. She gave him a family, and one that wasn’t absent. A very real, raw family that laughed together, cried together, and protected each other. They’d accept V, despite it taking some time. In turn, V wanted to protect them. The nomad woman had given him something that was so unconventional—so unique. A family was something that took years to make, and the woman gave him a real good one in just a few months.

Maybe their love wasn’t strictly romantic. It was unconditional, and felt everlasting. Perhaps, they had been in love with each other long before attraction even came into play. There was something unique in their auras. As if they’d known each other longer, a familiar presence. The merc pondered the concept of soulmates. Once again, he was not one to believe in that type of thing. But he could’ve swore he’d seen her before— or felt her energy before. The orange-red warmth that he could only compare to the sun, the desert, and the exact warmth he felt in his body when Panam had showed him Ursa Major. V realized that just now, it didn’t really matter what came of their relationship. Whether they were a couple or simply just best friends. At the end of the day, she’d become bound to him already. The bind was more than enough for V.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous  love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3229

Author’s Note: Here we go, fam! New story, new adventures, new thrills and chills and feels! Who’s excited?!? This story was inspired by P!nk’s song “Walk Me Home”, which you should totes listen to (and watch the video, it’s so COOL) if you haven’t. This was a birthday present for @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , though I will admit it was a few...well, either days or years late, depending on how you look at it. I hope y’all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! SHE ALSO MADE THE IMAGE!! HOW GORGEOUS?!?!

Mega thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. You all made this story way better than it started it, and I love you.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 1

A firm tap on the door of her office makes Kimberly’s head snap up. She blinks, her eyes unable to focus quickly after looking up from her computer screen. She remembers she’s wearing her reading glasses, and slips them off her nose, letting them dangle from the chain around her neck.

“Dr. Harper? Could I take a few minutes of your time?”

“Yes, I…” Her eyes finally focus on her visitor, and the room is suddenly devoid of oxygen. “Dean? Is it...really?”

“Kimber?” 

The astonished man framed in the doorway is a far cry from the brash, charming boy she met in a different life, but she’d know him anywhere. Time has been more than kind to Dean Winchester, and Kimberly has to admit some things really do get better with age.

Which is saying a lot, considering.

“God, no one’s called me that since high school.” She stands and takes a couple of measured steps around her desk. Seeing him unexpectedly like this after so much time leaves her physically and emotionally off-balance, but the smile she offers him is genuine. “You’re a helluva sight for sore eyes. It’s been a while.”

Dean recovers from his shock quickly, crossing the small room in a few quick strides, and sweeps her into a hug. She’s engulfed in his presence, not just his physical stature (she does not remember him being this tall or broad or...solid) but also the scent and feel that is absolutely Dean. She feels a shock of vertigo as memories and emotions she’d long laid to rest all vie for immediate attention.

It hits them simultaneously that they’ve embraced for a few moments longer than necessary, and they disentangle with sheepish smiles.

“What are...no, I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Have a seat!” A lop-sided smile pulls at Dean’s lips, and suddenly she’s seventeen again, trying desperately to keep her cool as she finally gets to talk to the handsome, mysterious new kid. Warmth floods every cell of her body, and she comes dangerously close to giggling. 

“Coffee?” she offers, forgetting most of her hard-earned vocabulary in the face of her teenage dream.

“Always.”

...

The last time she’d seen Dean Winchester, his father was burning holes in his elder son’s back from the driver’s seat of his precious Impala. He glowered at Dean and Kimber, impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as the teenagers stumbled through their good-byes. Dean’s younger brother sat, slump-shouldered and defeated in the back seat, resigned to yet another relocation.

“Don’t forget my number,” Kimberly murmured, her palms sliding over his jaw, fingers threading into his close-cropped hair, and they both knew she meant, “Don’t forget me.”

“I couldn’t if I tried, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. He cleared his throat, trying to turn away before she could see any weakness.

“Don’t,” she said, holding his face firmly. “If this is all I get of you, don’t even take that much from me.”

Five blissful weeks they’d had before Dean’s father concluded his mysterious business in the area. Five weeks since she’d begun tutoring Dean in AP American History; an absolute sham, she had realized exactly five minutes into their first session. Dean may not have been caught up on the exact dates and details of what they were covering in class, but once he set eyes on the material, even she had a hard time keeping pace with his reasoning.

“Just wanted to talk to you alone,” he’d admitted that afternoon, his olive eyes sparkling. He flashed her what had to be an award-winning half-grin, showing a glimpse of perfect, dazzling white teeth and the merest touch of uncertain vulnerability. 

“Does that usually work on girls?” she asked, genuinely curious. He had to practice that expression in the mirror; it was too perfect to be natural. His face lit up as his smile spread, his cheeks gaining the faintest hint of pink. In that one moment, Kimber realized she’d lived her entire life under an overcast sky, and now the clouds had parted. His smile was the sun on her face for the first time, dazzling and vital, and she soaked it in with dizzy abandon.

“Why, is it working on you?”

“Yeah, it, um, it really is.”

They spent the next month or so getting to know each other as only kids can, when everything is new, the absolute pinnacle of priority and passion. They studied each other as fervently as they should have studied for midterms. Explaining how the Age of Enlightenment influenced the American Revolution was a complete waste of time next to finding out that the beautiful, smooth-talking, tough-as-nails Dean Winchester was actually ticklish.

Dean told her the most amazing stories, which she only learned were true after he and his family disappeared. She caught him up in history enough for the teacher to get off his back, and in return he showed her how to get rid of unwanted physical attention with minimal risk on her part.

Dean wasn’t her first kiss, but he wiped the memory of every other fumbling embrace from her mind with a searing permanence. Some nights they snuck out to the treehouse in her backyard, and some nights she snuck him into her room. He would never take her out to any of the famous local make-out spots, though; he said they were too dangerous and just begging for trouble. 

She knew better than to argue with him when he got “that look” on his face, spoke to her in “that tone.” It took many years and some hard experiences of her own, but she did eventually learn that he’d been protecting her from so much more than she ever could have understood at that point in her life.

She found herself in awe of the sheer amount of wisdom contained in such a carefree, often goofy package. That they were chronologically the same age, almost to the month, was irrelevant; Dean Winchester had lived far beyond his years, and it showed.

And then one night, he’d arrived on her doorstep in the middle of dinner, asked if she could come outside for a minute. When he told her he was leaving, she knew he wasn’t joking. He’d warned her it would happen this way, that he had no idea how long they’d be in town, but she’d always imagined that future as some vague, misty destination, like “graduation” or “college.” Definitely going to happen, but not anytime soon, so might as well relax and enjoy things while you could.

“I…” But she couldn’t say it, not yet. She wanted to, had read so many novels and seen all the movies. It was the thing to say, and half her friends had already proclaimed their hearts belonging to various celebrities and hot guys around school. But staring into Dean’s eyes, so much older than they should be, she knew better than to throw that word out so lightly, carelessly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. His eyelids dropped, shoulders heaved once, and when he met her gaze again, that smooth front of cool confidence had slid back in place. “I know, sweetheart. Me, too.”

He kissed her then, despite his father’s glowering, despite her parents’ astonished looks from between the living room curtains. His hands were tight on her waist, and she raised up on her toes, pulling his face just a little closer. 

They pulled apart after a long moment, eyes locked, and she kissed him one last time, chastely, savoring the plush of his velvet-soft lips against hers. 

Then she let him go, and he went. There was nothing else they could do.

She hugged herself against the chill autumn night, ignoring the first dashes of icy rain that stung her bare arms as she watched the black Impala turn a corner and disappear.

She didn’t see him again for nearly two and a half decades. When he knocked on her office door, asking for Dr. Harper, the years melted away. She felt the sting of the rain, the chill of the night he’d left, and for a long moment, all she could do was stare.

…

“How did you find me?” he asks. His fingers slip around the coffee mug she offers him, and she has to make a physical effort to keep her thoughts focused on the task at hand. Everything about Dean has aged so gracefully. She would be envious if she weren’t also granted the absolute gift of drinking in the sight of him. 

“I didn’t,” she says, “not exactly. I’ve been teaching mythology, folklore, and urban legends at the university for a long time now. You got me started on that, back in the day.” She offers him a small smile, hoping he understands she remembers all the stories he told her.

The grin he offers in return melts something in her chest that’s been rigid and frozen, deliberately separated from the rest of her emotions for most of her adult life, and she can’t breathe for a second.

“After you left town, I started digging a little. I looked into some of those stories you told me, some of the places you’d mentioned, and then some of the weird stuff that had been happening in the towns where you said your dad was working. I’m sure you know what I found,” she says, eyebrows raised. 

Dean’s lips purse as he considers her words. He opens his mouth, brows creased, but then he seems to change his mind. He takes a long drink of coffee, and when he lowers the mug his expression is once again neutral.

“Well, I stayed interested. Made a career out of it, somehow. And then people started coming to me, asking for help finding bits of information here, some lore or ancient knowledge there. Some were hunters, some scholars, but it kind of became my thing. I’d hear stories about you and your brother occasionally, Mr. FBI’s Most Wanted,” she adds, and he chokes a little on his swallow of coffee.

“Why didn’t you ever reach out?” He brushes stray droplets of coffee from his chin absently, and her eyes laser in on a particularly enticing drop on the corner of his mouth. His tongue flicks out, catching it before it falls, and her breath hitches.

“To be honest, I was too nervous,” she admits as he sets his mug on the coaster in front of him. For the first time in many years, old feelings of abandonment, inadequacy, rear their nasty little heads. She has to work to keep her tone even. 

“It’s been how long? I figured you’d forgotten all about me; I thought maybe I was just another conquest to you-”

“You were never a conquest to me, Kimber. You know that.” His jaw works in agitation as he frowns. Hurt and something else - guilt, maybe? - cross his face before his expression smooths out, replaced by a blank mask. “You should have known that.”

Doubt cartwheels through Kimber's mind, sending her thoughts reeling. Twenty-four years of thinking Dean Winchester had forgotten her are suddenly put into a new, alien perspective. She scrambles internally to regain her bearings, stunned in a way that only comes from a solid blow to one’s core beliefs. 

Despite her parting plea, he’d never called her, not once in all the years after, and she’d convinced herself she was just the girl of the month. She’d been angry for a long time, well into college, but bit by bit, she forced herself to shut away her feelings, ball them up into a tiny hollow in her chest where she could at least ignore them, and moved on.

Apparently, somehow, she’d been mistaken. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

He nods stiffly, sitting back in his chair a little, putting a touch more distance between them. He raises his hand for her to continue, his gesture abrupt, and she shrivels inside. She sees she’s offended him, but if she’s in the wrong, then why did he never call? 

“Dean, look, I shouldn’t have said conquest. That was insensitive of me, but from my perspective, what was I supposed to think? You say you won’t forget me, then you vanish into the night? What happened? Not even a single call to let me know you made it to your next stop alive?”

There’s another flash of pain, chased quickly from his eyes by what she’s pretty sure now is guilt. Exhaustion finally settles in, and he suddenly shows every one of the twenty-four years since he last saw her.

“Look, we’ve got a more immediate problem here, if the little bit Garth told me is true. Let’s…” he sighs, scrubbing his face tiredly with his hands. He steeples his fingers in front of his lips, coming to some sort of decision. 

“We can sit down and talk Memory Lane over some pie and coffee, but let’s get through this first. Now tell me what’s going on.”

As much as she wants to argue, force him to tell her exactly why he never reached out, she can tell he isn’t going to budge. 

“I...so...I wasn’t looking for you specifically,” she stumbles, “but I reached out to a former student of mine, Garth Fitzgerald, who I knew had been a hunter at one point and still had contacts. He said he would send someone my way, and then…”

“And then I showed up,” he finishes. His tone is efficient, economical, and all business. “Garth didn’t tell me much except his old professor was having some supernatural stalking issues. Gotta say,” he adds, and she is relieved to her bones to see the tiniest of crinkles by his eyes, “Sure didn’t picture you when Garth said ‘old professor.’ Figured I’d get Indiana Jones or his dad, maybe, but not...yeah.”

His attempt to add a little humor makes the wash of guilt and confusion in Kimber’s stomach even more uncomfortable. 

She fills him in on the details, odd accidents happening to the people she’s closest with at work, strange noises around her house at night, the ever increasing sense she’s being watched. 

“You talk to the police?” he asks.

She nods, letting her sour expression do most of the talking for her. “Went as well as it usually does. They didn’t even talk to my neighbors to see if anyone had seen anything. I had to do that.”

“Still, though. Doesn’t sound too supernatural to me,” he finally says, eyebrows furrowed. He isn’t dismissive, though; he stares hard at his coffee mug as he considers her story.

“Well, I guess you could explain away Helen’s fall down the stairs as a horrible but mundane accident. She could have tripped, but the people near her said she looked like she was pushed. Except no one was near enough to have done it.”

Now that she's getting over the shock of finding him on her doorstep, she remembers why he's there in the first place, and reality rushes back in. Kimber’s composure falters, but she does her level best to keep her voice steady.

“But Professor Lawrence was by himself in his office when his skin just started...boiling, not burning. I don’t care what the police report says. And Allen Simpson didn’t actually want to staple his hand to his dissertation, I promise you. He had just talked with me about one of his sources over coffee an hour before...before…”

Her throat closes as the whole nasty scene flashes before her eyes. She’d found him in the grad student workroom after following the sounds of his anguished howls, and there was just so much blood. She’d heard stories from the hunters she’d worked with, read her own share of horrific incidents, but to see it first hand…

“And sometimes, when I walk home at night, there’s...I’ve never seen anything, but I hear footsteps. Always behind me, and there’s no one there, but I know there isn’t anywhere for them to hide, whoever they are. I can feel them just...watching me. Even at home, a couple of times, when I should be absolutely alone, all my blinds and drapes closed. Once when I was making dinner, and once when I was...showering, and...Dean, it’s...I don’t understand.”

She takes in a stuttering breath and dashes at her eyes with the back of her wrist. Her hand drops limply to the desk as she stares at the glossy surface, finally allowing herself to feel the full depth of her fears.

“I’ve researched, tried to figure it out on my own. It shows all the classic signs of witches, but there’s been no evidence of a coven in town before now. I suppose a new one could have moved in, but I haven’t found any evidence so far. No one suspicious hanging around that I’ve noticed.”

Breathe, she reminds herself sharply. 

“I checked back through as much of my notes as I could find on the hunters I’ve helped with witch cases. I checked in with anyone who had an open case or hadn’t called me back to let me know how their hunts went. Nobody had anything helpful to tell me.”

Silence stretches between them, both waiting for the other to say something, anything. Kimber cracks first.

“Dean, I’m no hunter. I’ve worked it as much as I can from the research end, and I just...I need help. Please.”

Dean’s hand settles atop hers, its warm weight an echo of familiarity, and she swallows hard against the rising bile in her throat. She meets his eyes, and his gaze is malachite.

“We’re gonna figure this out. I know you. You say this sucker’s a witch, I say bring me that bucket of water, Dorothy. We’ll get this fucker, I promise.”

That secret spot in her chest brightens, warms by another degree or two, and she nods her gratitude. “Thank you. So much. Now...it’s been a long day, and I’m kind of beat. Could I invite you over for dinner without it being too weird?”

He squeezes her hand before releasing it with a roll of his eyes. “I can behave myself, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’m not feral, Kimber.”

“You’re not exactly tame, either,” she says, softening the words with a half-smile as she stands. She swings her jacket on, and he mirrors her actions. She shuts down her computer while he waits in the hall, looking up and down the corridor.

“I’ll need to do a full sweep of your office and check the scenes of the accidents,” he says as she pulls the door shut behind them and locks it. “Who all has keys to the professors’ offices?”

“Just the cleaning staff and the department secretary, and the professors themselves,” she says. “I can’t think of anyone else who would.” 

He nods, pursing his lips. Suddenly, a smile lights his entire face and he sweeps into a ridiculous bow before popping up and offering her his arm. The years dissolve in an instant, and he’s that seventeen-year-old boy again, still too old for his age but trying so desperately to hang on to that carefree spirit, holding his elbow in her direction after slinging her backpack over his shoulder.

“Walk you home, milady?”

“I would be honored, good sir.” ...

Chapter 2

[calpalirwin]

Pretty Girl, Handsome Boy

A/N: So Mikey has felt a little underappreciated in my opinion, so I did something about it. Enjoy!

And away, and away we go!

~~~

“Ah, shit! Fucker…” you grumbled, setting your controller down in frustration as you waited to respawn.

“Whoa, you’re a chick?”

“Fuck!” you grumbled again, fiddling with your headset. You hated when people found out you were a girl in the gaming universe, but you had forgotten to mute your mic before playing. 

The chat at the bottom of the game starting blowing up in the realization of a girl in their midst. The same shit you were used to- comments ranging from about how it made sense how much you sucked now to more lewd comments about other things you could suck. 

“Fuck this,” you said, picking up your controller to take yourself out of the game and find a new match. You reached up to hit the switch on your mic to mute yourself. 

A notification popped up in the corner of your screen to let you know someone by the tag Mikerowave_X had messaged you. 

“The fuck?” you said aloud, opening the notification. Why did that tag sound familiar?

Sorry about those assholes, the message read. 

Nah, it’s all good, you typed back, forgot I wasn’t muted. 

They’re still assholes. You were playing just fine. Better than some of them, even. 

Haha, thanks. 

I’m Mike, btw. 

I could tell. Clever name. What’s the X for?

It’s a Final Fantasy thing, lol. 

Sick! I’m Y/N. 

Nice to meet ya, Y/N. 

Nice to meet you too, Mike.

What else do you play?

Oh, loads of stuff. I’m not too picky. 

Cool. We should play sometime. 

For sure. I use the same gamer tag on all my accounts so just hit me up, you typed, not quite sure why you were opening yourself up to play with someone you didn’t know, but figuring if push came to shove you could always block the dude. But something told you you wouldn’t need to; that this Mike character was a good guy. 

You down to play something now or were you going offline for the day?

Nah, I was just switching matches. Can’t really play once people find out I’m a girl. Ruins it for me.

Is that why none of us can find the girl gamers on these things?

Just a gamer, Mike. A girl yeah. But a gamer just like you. We don’t call you guy gamers. 

Shit, my bad. But you’re for real a girl?

Nah, I’m a middle aged dude with the voice of a prepubescent boy. Yes I’m a girl. 

Just checking, damn… can’t be too careful these days. 

Says the one who’s prob a middle aged dude himself…

Lol, I’m 24. Swear. 

Prove it. 

For real? Hang tight then. 

A few moments later a picture of a boy with a hat covering his blonde hair, with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen and beard stubble flashed on your screen, his phone with the date and time next to him for added proof. My mate took it so we could timestamp it for ya, the message below the picture said.

Damn… you typed, immediately recognizing him, all the pieces of the puzzle clicking together: his gamer tag, the use of X being a Final Fantasy reference. No fuckin way...

Haha, like what you see?

As far as nerds go, yeah, you’re kinda hot, you responded trying to keep your cool. 

Lol, I got a song by that name. Well almost. 

Yeah, I know. 

Oh? You good?

I’m a little stunned, you admitted. 

Lol why?

Cuz you’re Michael fuckin Clifford

It’s Gordon actually. But yeah, so?

Michael fuckin Clifford is messaging me… fuckin hell this is wild!

Shh, don’t blow my cover. I’m just a gamer, yeah?

Just a gamer, yeah, okay. 

Can I get a pic of you? Shit, not like that… I just meant… ah fuck…

Lol, it’s fine. Gimme a sec. If Michael fuckin Clifford wanted a picture of you, you were gonna give him a picture. You tried to do a cute, goofy pose with your tongue poking out, making sure your TV screen with the date and time was visible in the background. Shit, that’s awful, you typed as you sent the picture to him. 

Damn…

Haha, like what you see? you teased, using his words against him

Very much so, Y/N, very much so. How old are you, btw?

Same as you, 24. 

Yeah?

What, wanna see my license for proof? I don’t lie, Mike.

Nah, you just hide that you’re a girl. 

I don’t hide it. It’s visible on my profile. I just keep a gender neutral gamer tag. Keeps the assholes away. 

Damn, defensive. I was joking Y/N. 

Oh… so you serious about playing a game sometime?

Hell yeah, I’m serious. But, I actually gotta go. Famous duty calls. 

Oh, alright. See you around then. 

See ya, pretty girl. 

Bye, handsome boy. 

~~~

You played with Mike for the next few months every time he was on. You didn’t admit it in your messages to each other, but your heart sank when you would see he was offline and it did a little jump when he was. Unbeknownst to you, his heart was having the same reaction. 

Hey, pretty girl? he typed about 4 months after the first message. 

You heart leapt in your throat. You loved that he had deemed you “pretty girl” although again, you’d never admit it. 

Yeah, handsome boy? you typed back, using his deemed nickname in response. 

We’re getting back in town here in a few days. Was wondering if we could meet up in person?

Really?

Yeah. I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well these past few months. Why not?

I don’t want to disappoint you…

Disappoint me? Aw, pretty girl…

I’m a nerd, handsome boy. What you see is what you get. No surprises. 

Pretty girl, that could never disappoint me. 

You sighed. Alright, name the time and place and I’ll be there. 

~~~

You walked into the arcade, double-checking that you were in the right place. “Pretty girl?” a scruffy voice sounded from behind you. 

You turned and looked up at the blonde-haired, green-eyed boy who had his arms open for a hug.  “Handsome boy,” you greeted, accepting his hug. You smiled into his chest as his arms enveloped you. Damn he felt good. “So, an arcade, huh?” you asked once you let go of each other. 

“Figured it’d make a good first date,” he winked. 

“Date?” You quirked an eyebrow at him, hands going to your hips. You weren’t dressed for a date. You had spent the better part of your morning deciding what to wear before opting for a simple black t-shirt and jeans. Every day attire, not first date attire. 

“Well yeah? What did you think this was?”

“2 friends meeting up?”

“Pretty girl…” he sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, I’m not good at these things okay? Ash is the…”

“Wordsmith,” you nodded. “I know. Ash is the wordsmith, Cal’s the squishy cheeks who hates love, Luke’s hungover Jesus, and you’re the gamer. I know.”

He let out a small chuckle, “Yeah. But, I like you, okay? I don’t call just anyone ‘pretty girl’. In fact, you’re the only one I call that.”

“Well, I like you too, Mike, but…”

“But what? Is this too real for you now?” His voice wasn’t angry, it was almost sad. Like he was scared he was losing you. Which he was. He had grown attached to you and he wanted more than a gaming friendship with you. And here he was, ruining it. So typical. 

“A little?” you admitted, trying to find the words. “I mean, before… you were handsome boy and I was pretty girl. And… and that was enough for me. But now… you’re here. In front of me. And you’re him. You’re Michael fuckin Clifford…”

“It’s Gordon, actually,” he half-joked. “But, Y/N, that doesn’t change anything. I’m still handsome boy, and you’re still pretty girl. What you see is what you get, right? No surprises?”

“Yeah, but you’re you! Like actually you! And I’m… I’m me. And people like me don’t go on dates with people like you.”

He pursed his lips together, a wave of emotion coursing through him. He was angry, yes. But more than that, he was hurt. Hurt that he had hurt you by trying to get close to you. Hurt himself by making himself vulnerable. Maybe this is why Calum hated love so much. This shit hurt. 

You looked up at him, as his face tried to process your words and his feelings towards you. You could see the pain etched in his face. “Mike,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “This has nothing to do with you, okay? I like you. A lot, if I’m being honest. But, I’m scared, okay? I’m not blind to your professional life and what that entails. It was easier before. I could ignore that you were you and just pretend you were just Mike, my friend in the gaming world. But this?” you gestured with your hands. “Well, my world’s spinning a little too fast.”

“I’m still him, Y/N…”

“You are. But you’re also not,” you said sadly, thinking that this is exactly why you weren’t supposed to meet your idols. 

“God, that’s such bullshit… I’m me, Y/N!” he shouted suddenly, his voice ringing out around you. “I’m still the dude who messaged you to apologize for assholes who think that just because you’re a girl gives them a free pass to make a pass at you. I’m the same guy you’ve been talking to for months. I’m still the same guy in the picture when you knew who I really was. And I’m still here, in front of you, trying to ask the girl I like on a date.”

“Mike… I…” you sputtered. It was too real. It was too real that he was right here in front of you. The feelings you had for him were too real. This was just… too much too fast. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me I’m not the same person you’ve gotten to know these last 4 months,” he challenged you. 

“Mike, it’s not that simple, and you know it!” You were doing what you did best, closing yourself off so you couldn’t disappoint anyone.

“Bullshit, it isn’t! Look, if this is about you being scared of disappointing me I got news for ya: you don’t. I meant every word I’ve ever said to you.”

“Mike…” you said, your voice breaking. “I can’t be the girl you want me to be. I just can’t, okay?”

“I only ever wanted you to be you…”

“And I am!”

“And that’s enough for me! Can’t you see that? Haven’t I proved that to you?”

“It’s clearly not enough if you want to date me, Mike…”

“Pretty girl, I want to date you because you’re enough. It’s not easy for me to open up to people, okay? I’m not like Ash, I can’t just make myself vulnerable and pass it off as charm. I’m not like Cal who just passes his feelings off as indifference. I’m not a cute dork like Luke. I’m just nerdy ole me who likes nerdy ole you a hell of a lot. You have made these past few months away from home more bearable than I can put into words. Yes, I love my job. I love what I do, and wouldn’t trade it for anything. But it gets lonely. And it gets hard. But when I was with you, I felt at home. Like for once in my life there was someone to come home to. And that’s not a feeling I want to let go of. If this is too much, that’s fine. I get it. I have a tendency of coming on a little strong because I don’t know how to open up, so when I do it’s like an avalanche. If we need to go back to just being gaming friends, I guess I’ll find a way to be okay with that. But I like you, okay? You feel like home to me and I just need you to know that.”

“Mike… I don’t think that’s what it means to like someone…” you said, once he was done giving a voice to all the feelings you’d been having yourself. “Pretty sure that’s love.”

“Oh… well, fuck, maybe I love you then, pretty girl.”

“Maybe I love you too, handsome boy,” you said before reaching up to touch his cheek, needing to look at those green eyes of his.

“Maybe?” he said softly, as his gaze locked with yours, the tip of his tongue poking out to wet at his lips.

“Maybe,” you nodded, before your lips touched his.

[alexabarnes]

Into the Water-Part Four

Pairing: Bucky x veteran!reader

Summary: When a boy falls into the harbor on an icy December day, Bucky meets ex-combat medic (y/f/n)(y/l/n). She is fighting to figure out life after the war. Something about her sticks with Bucky in a way he can’t shake.

A/N: Wooh! Hello Tumblr folks. Sorry I’ve been away for so long. I have had probably the worst writers block ever with this chapter and I just couldn’t get it to a point where I liked where I was going with it. Thank you @invisibleanonymousmonsters for un-writer’s blocking me with literally one sentence. 

Part Three // Masterlist 

“Buck, come on, you gotta call her.” Bucky sighed and set the weights on the gym floor. Steve racked the bar on the bench press stacked with enough plates to outweigh a freight car and walked over to Bucky.

Bucky looked at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, I don’t know, Steve. I just…” He trailed off. The words were there but he didn’t think he could say them. I’m not that man anymore. I’m too broken. Steve knew all too well what was happening in his head—those thoughts that never seemed to stop nagging at him, making him believe he was still the man Hydra made him, the man who was responsible for so much suffering.

“Don’t go down that road, Buck.” Buck sighed and seemed unconvinced, paranoid thoughts swirling in his head. Steve clapped his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Pal, as maybe the world’s leading authority on waiting too long, don’t.”

Bucky chuckled at that. Steve went back to the bench to do another set. In between strained breaths he yelled out, “Call her.”

“Yeah, whatever, punk.”

______

01:49 

The red lights on her alarm clock glared at her from her nightstand. To absolutely no one’s surprise Y/n was still wide-awake, alternating between watching the shadows on the ceiling, the minutes tick by, and the cars and pedestrians walking down the street below her apartment. Ranger was curled at the end of her bed, snoring softly as usual. 

It had been two weeks since she ran into Bucky in the hallway of the hospital and he hadn’t called her. She had pretty much given up on ever seeing or hearing from him again, but thinking about what he could possibly be up to was better than dealing with her usual intrusive thoughts. 

Y/n had started to drift off to sleep, her eyelids softly closing as the exhaustion took over, when a harsh buzzing on her nightstand jolted her awake. She rolled on her side and grabbed her phone. Blocked Number read on the screen. Y/n almost didn’t answer it seeing as it was so late, but a part of her hoped that maybe it would be him. 

“Hello?” Y/n said into the phone, her voice deep and thick from sleep. 

Silence. “Hello?” She said again.  

“Uh, hey, hi, is this y/n?” Her breath caught in her throat; she knew the voice. It was soft and sweet and shy.

“Bucky?” 

“Um, yeah, it’s me. I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to, uh, grab a coffee? With me?”

Y/n didn’t immediately respond, and Bucky felt his stomach drop. His chest squeezed in anxiety. Oh, Christ. I knew I shouldn’t have fucking listened to Steve. This was so stupid, oh god. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, it’s so late I probably woke you up, I—Jesus. I’m an idiot. Forget I—” 

“Wait, no, Bucky. You didn’t wake me up, I promise. Sleep’s not really my thing,” she chuckled wryly, “I’d love to go grab a coffee.” She smiled to herself in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. She couldn’t help it. 

Bucky just sat there in stunned silence with a goofy grin on his face before he snapped out of it and realized y/n was probably waiting on him to say something. 

“Um, well, I wasn’t exactly sleeping either. There’s a diner over on 72nd. Do you wanna meet me there?” 

“Yeah, Bucky. I’ll be there in 20.”

_______

Bucky sat in a booth in the far corner of the diner, back to the wall eyes facing the door. His heightened senses and his years as a soldier never allowing him to be in positions of vulnerability, so of course he took that seat, identified all the exits, and kept tabs on every person in the diner as he waited for Y/n. 

It was raining softly, small rivulets sliding down the large window panes. The neon lights cast soft light onto Bucky’s dark chestnut hair. An older blonde woman walked up to him wearing her diner apron and holding a glass carafe full of coffee. She smiled warmly at Bucky and refilled his cup. 

“You sure you don’t want anything besides coffee, honey?” She asked. 

“No, thank you, ma’am.” He said, giving her a soft smile. 

“Alright, well, you just go on and holler if you need anything,” she replied. He nodded and thanked her again. The bells on the door jingled against the glass as Y/n stepped into the diner and out of the rain. She wore dark wash jeans and a soft hoodie underneath her faded leather jacket. 

Her y/h/c hair hung in loose strands framing her face, dripping from the rainy walk over. Ranger walked dutifully by her side, wearing his service dog vest, beads of rain dripping off his fur. Y/n looked quickly around the restaurant, her gaze finally landing on Bucky. Ranger’s thin leather leash hung loosely in her hand as she walked toward him. 

Y/n slid into the booth across from Bucky. He smiled nervously at her.  “It’s good to see you, Y/n” 

“You, too, Bucky. I was hoping you’d call.” She smiled sheepishly and looked down at the table. 

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” she replied, nodding reassuringly at him. 

“And it’s good to see this guy, too,” Bucky said, leaning over to scratch Ranger behind the ears. Y/n chuckled and smoothed Ranger’s coat. “How are you?” he asked. 

She smirked. “I-uh, yeah, I’m good,” she paused. Bucky just looked at her knowingly. “I heard the kid got discharged a few days ago. No lasting cardiac or brain damage from the drowning. Best case scenario.” She huffed out a short laugh of disbelief. “Guess those really do happen sometimes.” Bucky noticed how when she began to talk about the boy, she’d pull at the dog tags around her neck, making harsh angry lines blossom on her neck. 

The blonde waitress walked back over to the table. They both straightened up and looked up at the waitress. 

“Hey, there, hun. What can I getcha?” 

“Coffee, please, ma’am,” y/n replied. 

“You got it.” The waitress shortly returned with an empty ceramic mug, identical to Bucky’s, gently set it in front of Y/n and streamed in the piping hot black liquid. “Cream and sugar, honey?” 

“No, thanks, ma’am,” she replied. 

“You two sweet things let me know if you need anything else.” Bucky and y/n both smiled at the waitress as she meandered to other tables, refilling coffee and carrying loads of plates in her arms. 

Y/n and Bucky turned back to each other. It didn’t help matters that both y/n and Bucky were already naturally quiet. They both sat there, a little (a lot) unsure of what to do and what to say. Bucky quietly observed her; the way her fingers traced the rim of the chipped ceramic mug, the way her hair softly fell around her face, slightly hiding her eyes. What made Bucky almost laugh was that the silence wasn’t awkward or strained. It was like when she finally came into his presence they fell into a comfortable rhythm. 

Bucky tried to imagine what Steve would say, maybe even what he would say if he was trying to charm some dame back in the 40’s but it didn’t feel like him anymore. 

Bucky began to open his mouth to speak when another waitress meandering around the diner dropped a plate onto the diner’s tiled floors. Bucky watched it happen out of the corner of his eye, but y/n had her back turned. 

The plate shattered upon contact with the floor causing y/n to tense and immediately whip around in her chair, eyes wide with panic at the abrasive noise. When she finally registered it was just a plate hitting the floor, she slowly turned back around to Bucky, breathing heavily trying to calm down again. Ranger, of course, had stayed calm the whole time, his ears only twitching at the noise. He rested his head on y/n’s lap. She took another breath and softly patted Ranger’s head. When it registered to her that Bucky had just watched her ridiculous reaction, her chest squeezed in anxiety. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I probably looked like such an idiot over just a fucking plate,” she nervously laughed. 

“Y/n, it’s okay. I get it.” And the look in Bucky’s eyes as he spoke showed this deep sincerity and for the first time, she actually believed he understood. She settled noticeably after that. “How long were you in?” He asked.

“Eight years, couple of long tours. Bagram, Helmand, Kunar.” During his time with Hydra, Bucky had been, let’s just say, well acquainted with the Middle East so he knew the special level of hell those tours must have been. 

“What about you? I can tell by the way you carry yourself you were military.” Y/n knew the answer to this question already. There was no way she didn’t immediately recognize the Winter Soldier the second she saw him, but she wanted to see what he would say when he didn’t know if she knew or not. 

Bucky looked a little thrown by the question because service during World War II and seventy some-odd years as a prisoner of war doesn’t tend to compute for most people. He laughed wryly to himself, “well, uh, it’s kind of complicated, let’s just say a while.” 

“Bucky, it’s okay. I know who you are.” Bucky immediately tensed when y/n spoke, his eyes running over the exits, preparing to bolt. But Y/n reached across the table and covered his hand with her own, bringing his attention back to her. She was slow and deliberate because she knows how sensitive she is to touch, and she can’t imagine what it must be like for him. 

She kept her face calm and even. Bucky steeled himself for the inevitable response he always got when people recognized him: fear, disgust, hatred… but in her eyes he only saw an open calm, no anger or fear brewing beneath the surface. 

She smiled softly. “Bucky, I recognized you the second you pulled me out of the water. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out.” There were so many things she wanted to tell him. It wasn’t you; it wasn’t your fault. That blood is not on your hands. You are the world’s longest serving POW and to those of us who have served or have been POWs since then, your service means more to us than we could ever put into words. 

But she couldn’t say any of that. For so many reasons. Too much too soon, too intense, it wasn’t the right place or time and she wholeheartedly believed he wasn’t ready to hear it yet either. 

She could tell he was beginning to shut down, close himself off. She wracked her brain for anything she could say to get him to believe she understood at least a little of what he’s been through. Bucky looked tense, upset that he could never ever escape his past. Why did I ever think I could ever have something normal, easy, simple? I’m such a fucking idiot, he thought to himself. 

Y/n suddenly broke the silence, talking softly staring into her coffee, obviously very nervous about what she was about to share. 

“When I came back after my first tour, I remember flying home and walking through the airport in my uniform. A woman stopped me and thanked me for my service. I could tell she was just trying to be nice, but it made my stomach twist. There’s no way she could know, or anyone could really, for that matter. But people who’ve been deployed know that the last thing we feel when we come home is worthy of thanks for everything we saw and did over there. After all the things we lost, after everything I’ve done—” her voice shook a little, “why the fuck would you thank me?” She took a breath to steady herself before continuing. 

“I know people mean well, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. And being home, I thought I could wear my civilian clothes and blend in but so many people knew. Everywhere I went I felt like I had a glowing neon sign attached to me and everyone stared, and everyone judged, and everyone knew. It drove me fucking crazy. It’s like they all were walking on eggshells around me either out of some bullshit, misguided reverence for the image of the person in uniform they created in their mind or out of nervousness that one wrong word, one wrong look and I’d break like a fucking injured wild animal. After I came home, no one could just see me anymore, it’s who I used to be died the second I got over there.” 

She looked back up from her coffee, looking at Bucky’s face, his posture, any sign that maybe she got him to trust her just a little bit. He just nodded and they shared a look that said all they needed say to each other, a look of understanding that only those who have served in combat share. 

“After the whole mess in Vienna and after some very smart people,” he smiled to himself at that, “got all the shit that Hydra put in my head out and I came home, I felt the same way. Steve acted like he believed I was fine. He tried a lot to get me back out in the world, and act like I was still the same person I was before the war, but I can tell every time I flinch or react or—” he hesitated on these next words, rubbing his hands over his face, “wake up screaming, he still sees the Winter Soldier. He would never admit this, but I see the way he tenses up, the way he’s always hyperconscious, treating me like I’m made of glass. I love him to death, but it just makes you feel like…I don’t even know,” he trailed off. 

“It makes you feel like you will never be able to forget. It’s a constant reminder of who you were and what you did despite their best intentions. Because every time they do everything they can to be accommodating and sensitive, you’re reminded why they’re like that.” 

Bucky just breathed out a laugh mixed with a sigh of disbelief. “Yes,” he said, “that’s exactly it.” Y/n just nodded. 

Bucky smiled, trying to ease the weight of the air around them after what they just shared. “Y/n, you should really meet Steve.” 

“As in, Captain America Steve?” she asked, incredulously. Bucky nodded. 

“I think you two would get along well,” he said. Y/n giggled to herself.

The waitress came around again to fill up their mugs of coffee and they continued to talk. After that first stressful bit of their conversation, it’s as if both of them relaxed and the conversation began to flow much easier. Bucky got caught up in her, in the way her eyes would drift off somewhere far from the diner when she began to tell a story, in the way she subconsciously pulled at her dog tags and kept a steady hand on Ranger. He was enraptured by how gentle her voice was and how easy it was for him to talk to her despite never feeling comfortable enough to talk with anyone except for Steve. 

And so they talked until the sunlight began to break on the horizon, casting wisps of pink into the soft morning sky. 

_______________________

PLEASE let me know your thoughts or ideas for what you want to see happen in the future. Getting feedback from you guys motivates me so much to write. 

[tmntxreader-fics]

TMNT Leo X Reader: STICKS AND STONES (Part 2)

ITS BACK 

I’VE REPOSTED AFTER THE TUMBLR UPDATE DESTROYED THE LAST ONE. 

Found this in a glitch actually, I copy and pasted it and it disappeared literally 10 minutes later into the abyss so I don’t know if the Tumblr staff took pity on me?... 

ANYWAY

WARNINGS: Cussing, angst, and possible typos. Also it’s long as hell. 

Word Count: 3307

Your gaze drifts over your own reflection, heart pounding in your chest.

“You don’t look like yourself,” April had said when she picked you up from the airport. It was one of the first things she had greeted you with. Now, back in your old city, standing in your old apartment and appraising yourself in your old mirror- you realize that she is right.  In the 6 months that you had been gone, you’ve abandoned your old self and God did it feel good. Like a snake shedding its skin, a butterfly emerging from its cocoon; you are new. 

Your once simple and almost bland hair is now vibrant and impossible to ignore. The roots remain their original colour but slowly along its length it weeps into a red that puts Raphael’s mask to shame. A deliberate colour scheme to symbolise the opposition of blue. 

Even as you eye the clothing draped over your body, you can’t help but compare the difference between your originally modest and humble style and the present edge you’ve currently obtained. 

But the most significant change you display is not a tangible presence, it cannot be observed with a materialistic lens. The thing that stands out the most, as you analyse your own reflection, is not the clothes on your back or the colour of your hair. It’s the confidence. 

It was a terrifying concept at first, attempting to push past the fears that plagued you for years. The chains that bound you under the label of shy, socially anxious and introverted were never weak. They were made of hard steel with what you had previously thought to be no weak link to be discovered, but you found it six months ago and its name was Leonardo. When you broke the link, shattered it with a sword of humiliation and scorn, you realised then that the opportunity for growth came after being cut down. You are free of your chains and you want to let the world know that you’ll never be confined by them again. Starting with the one who both restricted you and freed you, you plan to display this newfound power in the best way you could. You’re going to rub it in everyone’s face that you are new.   You are an entirely new being and you plan to bask in it. You want to silently gloat about it to those who thought you to be insignificant. You know your worth now. Precisely why you’ve agreed to visit the infamous lair of the turtles after so long of avoiding it like the plague; trying to pretend it never existed. “You sure you wanna come with?” April questions sceptically, her eyes slowly dragging over your frame. After a hard silence, she throws her hands up in surrender and mutters a sarcastic apology beneath her breath. The reporter knows this meeting will be chaos; not necessarily physical but emotional anarchy for everyone involved. It sounds good in theory, the idea of ‘strutting your stuff’ in front of your ex but the bond between you both was deeper than the average relationship. April knows that tie is still existent whether you choose to acknowledge it and young woman suspects this will not go in accordance to your plans- things rarely do. However, you are stubborn and even the famous reporter is no match against the fury of a woman scorned. Your breathing picks up as April leads you around what seems like the 100th corner in a row- and it’s not because of the amount of unwarranted exercise you’ve been forced into. “Donnie said he’d meet us here,” April huffs, slightly winded by the hefty trek. Before you can reply, a recognisably excited voice pipes up from the shadows of the alleyway. “And I’m here as promised!” You exhale sharply at the sight of the purple clad turtle- it’s been so long since you’ve seen any of the mutant brothers that the presence of even Donatello shocks you. You drink the sight of him in, from the goggles resting atop his head to the gadgets strapped to his ankles. An almost nostalgic sigh is expelled from your system as you shift the strap of your bag on your shoulder, a nervous tick. His gaze lingers on you after greeting April, longer than it should have until he figures it’s illogical to try hide the fact that he is staring. You smile sadly, “Hey, brains. It’s been a while, huh?” His gaze softens and his lips quirk to mimic yours. “Precisely 6 months and 2 days,” he states quietly. His smile widens into a goofy grin, the tension easing up as he rubs the back of his head awkwardly, “who’s counting though?” “I have a suggestion as to who,” April responds suddenly, observing her fingernails when the attention falls upon her. You realise she’s talking about the blue clad turtle and the turmoil within your stomach returns tenfold. You felt physically sick by the idea of seeing him again, having to look into those eyes. A gaze that had once observed you with love, a gaze that was tender and affectionate reserved only for you; a gaze that turned too cold, too quickly. “Speaking of,” Donnie begins quietly, “everyone’s waiting downstairs for you guys.” He nods his head towards to the open manhole cover and you swallow thickly. You almost wish that the walk to the lair was as long as the trek it had taken to meet Donnie at the rendezvous point. Your heart has basically nestled itself in your throat and you know that there will be difficulty dislodging it. As your little band of three approach the entrance to the lair you force your racing mind to stop, this was all done for a reason. You will not allow yourself to be weak, to become unravelled by a person you once knew. They are no longer a part of you, they no longer define you, they no longer value you the way they once did but you value yourself and that is what makes you infinitely more powerful than you were. You know your self-worth, you know you deserve just as much respect as anyone else. After 6 months of inner struggles and the journey to self-love you absolutely refuse to be shaken. However, as told by Mike Tyson, “everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.” You figure that it wasn’t meant to be coupled with this current situation, but anything can be applied to everything depending on the individual’s approach.

As you enter the room holding Donatello’s brothers, you realise that seeing Leonardo’s face damn well felt like a nasty uppercut. As Mike Tyson predicted, anything witty you had planned to say has expelled itself from your mind.

A glacier like gaze skims over your being repeatedly, slower each time. The ice melts into pools of emotion, collecting at the water line of his eyes. Your mouth opens, fighting to make a sassy remark that you had planned previously- you failed miserably. A name slips from his lips, your name. It sounds foreign, why does it sound like that when it used to be comforting? Why does he say it like that? With longing, with sorrow. He has no right to long for you. But he does have a reason to be sorry. You straighten your posture and set your jaw, forcing your sights to rip away from him as if he wasn’t worth any time of day. Settling your gaze onto Raphael, his lips curl into a charming lopsided smirk. “I like your hair,” he states; stepping forward with a confident sway. Seems you aren’t the only one who’s grown. “It reminded me of you,” you tease playfully, a grin finally gracing your previously tense features. Through your peripheral vision you catch the slightest flinch from Leo. Raph returns the sentiment with a brilliant smile and you’re shocked by both the act and the way he immediately reaches out to embrace you. Blatant affection from the temperamental warrior was a rarity, to be the object of said affection made your heart swell. “It’s been hell without you here,” his words are pressed against your ear, quietly swallowing the air around you. He frees you from his embrace, eyeing you with a meaningful glance before returning to his resting expression- a mixture of irritation and arrogance. “I’ll go wake Mikey up,” he suggests, disappearing past Leo and into the tunnels. Something about the way he spoke confirmed to everyone that he was doing no such thing. April and Donnie, unfortunately, also got the unspoken memo. “Well, I’m just going to um-” Brains mutters awkwardly, spinning in a half circle away from you. “Show me the lab! He’s going to show me the lab,” April exclaims, gripping his bicep and dragging him in the opposite direction. “You know? TCRI isn’t going to disappear over night!” The duo left the room in a flurry of nervous mumbling, leaving you to face Leo by yourself. You swallow your nerves and un-furrow your brows, determined to give this turtle absolutely no rope and no leverage. You are in control here. Your gaze returns to Leo with hooded eyes and cold intentions. He steps forward as if to embrace you but your stare stops him dead in his tracks. Blue’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly as if he is confused by the apparent shift in attitude. You take his clear vulnerability as an opportunity to speak, looking around the lair with nonchalance. “You know, I really missed this place,” you state, tossing a side glance at the still turtle. “I missed your brothers, I missed Splinter- God knows I missed the pizza.” Your fingers trail over the railing beside you casually as you reign yourself in to ensure the confident voice doesn’t waver. With two slow and long strides forward towards Leo, you Harden your gaze and let it rest on him. “You know what I didn’t miss though?” You question, taking another step closer to the turtle who suddenly looks almost alarmed. “You.” You cross your arms and square your sights on him, “I didn’t miss you at all.” His jaw clenches before an emotion crosses his face, one you’ve never seen before. You find yourself beginning to wish you hadn’t stepped so close. “You’ve always been a bad liar,” Leo’s voice is quiet but hard. Your eyebrows raise at his immediate response. You’d hurt him with your words, you can tell by the silent strain in his voice. His icy stare narrows in on yours and he takes a step towards you- it feels like the ground is shaking. Resisting the urge to step away from him, you instead opt to swallow nervously and raise your chin in defiance. “You wouldn’t know,” you say. “I’ve never lied to you. That was your job.” Just like that, Leo’s strong facade shatters. His expression opens, revealing sorrow and harrowing regret, your heart squeezes at the sight. “What I did to you,” he begins, licking his lips as he pauses. “What I said to you was wrong.” “You’re stating the obvious again,” you force a tone of boredom but your hands begin to tremble. Leo’s swift gaze travels from your eyes to your lips, they trail from your shoulders to your shaking hands. His stare lingers there for a moment and his brow ridge furrows slightly. “I’m sorry.” His words are barely a whisper. His sorrow incites fury; two words cannot erase months of heartache, betrayal and tears. You narrow your eyes at him. You’re furious at Leo for what he’s done, you’re furious at him for seeking forgiveness through just two words but mostly you’re furious at yourself for wanting to forgive him so easily. Your blood boils at the fact that you wish he was the first to approach you, to embrace you, to express how much he missed you. But he wasn’t; he didn’t say a word. However, you were never one to slap away an apology- even if the last thing you want to do is forgive them. “Apology accepted. Have a nice day, Leonardo,” you laugh bitterly, turning on your heel with the intention to be in the company of anyone but the turtle with the blue bandana. How disappointing. “I can’t.” His voice is sharp, demanding to be heard. You frown and face him. “Can’t what?” “I can’t have a nice day,” he states, almost frustrated with himself. You pull your shoulders into a shrug. “Well, that’s unfortunate,” you say carelessly, motioning to continue with your departure. “I can’t have a nice anything, actually,” he continues. Leo steps closer and the intensity of his gaze weighs down on you- forcing you to be still where you stand. “I can’t have a nice meal, a nice training session or a nice patrol.” Your eyes widen as he grits his teeth and moves closer, it feels like the air is being drawn from the room. “I can barely close my fucking eyes at night, let alone have a nice sleep,” he snaps and you swallow at the sound of the cuss being spat out from between his teeth. It sounded alien and misplaced, he hates swearing. Your breath leaves you in a subtle tremble, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from him. “How so?” You whisper. He chuckles humourlessly and you note that it’s almost self-deprecating in tone. “Because I sent away the one person that made things nice. Nothing has even come close, ever since.” You stare at him, heart pounding in your chest and tears gathering in your eyes. This was becoming vastly more complicated than the scenarios you had played out in your mirror at the apartment. “Then why?” You settle for the one question that’s been plaguing your mind for months. “Why did you do it?”   Leo falters before you. Despite him being completely frozen in his tracks, it’s as if you’ve physically just watched him trip over himself at your question. “I…” He trails off, voice a mere, soft rasp. You raise a brow, trying to will back the tears. You are shaking, you know it’s visible, but you can’t find it in you to be embarrassed. “Well?” You prompt impatiently, “you made it your damn mission to break me. I at least deserve a reason, don’t you think?” “Yes,” he whispers. “Of course you do.” “Then spill it,” you snap, swiping the tear that had made a mad dash down your cheek. He eyes you carefully as he words his response carefully, “I was failing. As a leader, as a partner, as a member of the team…” You motion impatiently for him to continue. Leo casts his gaze to the floor, a frown marring his expression. “I couldn’t keep anything together and rather than look at my weaknesses and failed choices as a leader, I blamed you.” He grits his teeth, “I failed and you suffered for it. I thought you were a weakness when in reality you were my strength.” You don’t bother wiping the tears that have begun to basically stream down your cheeks, you know that’s a lost cause. Leo, catching your small sniffle, glances up and his face contorts to one of guilt. Your ex-lover makes an instinctual move to comfort you. “What do you want me to say?” You ask, wrapping your arms around yourself and stepping away from his advances carefully. “That it’s fine? That we can go back to what was? You can’t humiliate me and toss me aside then expect me back when you realise your mistake,” you snap. Leo’s eyes soften, “I don’t expect that from you.” “Then what could you possibly want?” You’re visibly exasperated, not to mention exhausted by this entire exchange. “A chance to try again.” Leonardo states almost pleadingly. You’re stunned by his words, mouth opening in bewilderment. Then you begin to laugh, interrupting his sentence with an almost cruel laugh that subsides into giggles. You imagine that this is possibly a terrifying image considering that your face is still heavily laden with tears. “You think I’m going to just get back with you?” You throw your hands up and turn in a circle, “the mighty Leo has asked something from me so I just must obey. News flash! I’m not your little bitch anymore,” you hiss. “I’m not the same person I was, I will not roll over for you.”

“I know. You’re stronger, you’re smarter and you’re angry. I understand that and you have every right to be but if you’d just give me a chance to prove myself.” He begins, moving close in another habitual attempt to console you. “Damn right I’m smarter, smart enough to stay away from you,” you snap, stepping back from his advances. Instantly he opens his mouth to respond, with wide eyes and hands raised to defuse, “Hold on, I wasn’t done just listen to me-” “No, you listen to me,” you interrupt, halting your retreat and instead stomping towards him, “I am not part of your damn team and you sure as fuck are not my leader!” Your hand had poked into his plastron to emphasise each point and his gaze moves down to eye the hand you had left resting upon him. “You do not get to make demands as if I owe you something.”

His mouth closes and to your surprise a small smile lifts one corner of his mouth. “You don’t owe me anything,” he begins softly. “But I will ask you, please, to let me try earn back your affections and amend what I have failed to do previously.”

You stare at him for a long moment, gaze drinking in every feature of his face. You remember the times before he had distanced himself from you. You remember the affection, the love, the way he had tried to so hard to woo you in every way possible even when you were intimidated by him and it seemed he had no hope. Leo had fought for you, fought to make you comfortable around him, he had made sacrifices to be with you. Your anger begins to slowly ebb as his icy coloured eyes search your own for some sort of agreement. Where did it all go wrong?

He took you for granted and whether he gains your affections later down the track or not, he has still paid the price.

You clench your jaw before a heavy sigh slips from your mouth. The silence is loud as you both wait in anticipation of your decision. You know that allowing him back into your life allows unpredictable elements to gain control, once more. Would he do the same thing under a different lie? Would he treat you the way you’re meant to be treated? Rather than cutting him off and the possibilities of a positive outcome, you decide that letting things move slow will provide ample opportunity to catch any deviations.  

“You can try,” you agree, “as friends first, obviously. Don’t get your hopes up for anything beyond that.”

With that, Leonardo cracks a blinding grin- as if he had been waiting his whole life to hear those words. He takes in a breath, one that is not heavy with despair like those he had taken in the past six months. He wants to drop to his knees, express his gratitude for your mercy and promise you the world.

Instead, he settles for a simple, “of course.”

Because, this time, Leo will not waste his chance on words that he knows you will never believe.  

@pokiekatherine @dead-lee-15 @crazy-pleasures-and-crazy-habits @ihlni686-and-rps @chichiguitarist123 @ihlni686 @jam-jar2  @whataprimeexample @the-chick-with-the-best-fandom @rinsakka @llturner7 @axa0113 @yesimthatboring @bluehelixx @mydogjustfarted @dark-demon-s-tears @dksuniverse @pleasetooweirdtolive-tooraretodie16 @lil-safe-haven @fireflyloki28 @moonrocksleeping @theunawesomeduck @thepovofem @eiri-thehedgehog @forfoxsake629 @utterlystardust @kapowinthekisser @eilikes @dva-reengaging @loekie-mulder138 @mallory-lawson23 @royalpuglife @hlemon11 @super-flamin-hot-cheetos @henderwhore4life @looneylorrhael @uninspired-plebian @thetruepotatolordjay @pluvialday @animechick555 @nodistressdamsel @fluffydino-15

[commonsensewizard]

American Jews Need to Take a Cue from Israelis

After World War II, the Jews that immigrated to Palestine were of a different nature than the ones before Nazism. They were mad as hell, and weren’t going to take it anymore. No longer would they be hustled into cattle cars and shipped to concentration camps, where then their belongings would be taken from them, stripped naked, hair shorn, and marched into gas chambers without so much as a whimper of resistance. The days of them being used as slave labor until they couldn’t stand, only then to be shot in the back of the head and thrown into a mass grave, were over. No, these Jews were adamant. They were going to survive by fighting back and fighting hard.

In this post, I want to be clear I am not blaming the Jews who were caught up in the synagogue shooting. The fault lies squarely with the idiot who did it. But, the events in Pittsburgh puzzle me. I am a regular church attendee. I will not go to a church that doesn’t have armed security. After the church massacre in Sutherland Springs, Texas, many churches in my state started providing such a thing. Those who cannot afford it, have specific members with licenses to carry firearms and are trained on their own dollar on how to respond to such an emergency. You don’t know who they are, but they are there. Any crazed wacko who comes into one of these churches had better be prepared to die, and that right quick. Now, for those of you who spout scripture back, like “Thou shalt not kill”, have no understanding. Jesus asked his disciples if they had any swords among them. In those days, a sword was their gun. It wasn’t used for peeling potatoes. They answered him that they had two. He didn’t say, “You scurrilous people! Beat them into plowshares!” No, he said, “That will be enough. For we live in perilous times.” As Christians, we are allowed to protect ourselves just as much as everyone else. We are especially allowed to protect ourselves when we are most vulnerable, like in a worship service. It is a shameful thing to murder anyone for any reason. It is a heroic thing to kill a would-be murderer before or during his or her rampage. 

With Jews being hated by so many on a global scale, it is not surprising that Israel remains strong and determined to survive. If someone hits them, they hit back three times as hard. Their attitude reminds me of Sean Connery’s character in the 1987 film, “The Untouchables”. One of the most iconic lines in the movie is where he tells Ness how to get Capone. Connery says, “He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue.” 

So why is it, with the Jews knowing they are so universally hated, and with them having most of the money in the world, do they not have armed security in their synagogues? It makes no sense in the times in which we all live, and especially with their history and current situation that is not likely to change anytime soon. It saddens me every time I hear of such senseless violence. But, it saddens me even more when people go about their everyday lives as if nothing bad can ever happen to them. It’s always going to happen to the other guy, not me. I am not a Jew, but even I am always making myself aware of my surroundings, even in church. I look around to see if anyone is acting a little more goofy than usual. When I am in a parking lot at a Wal-Mart or grocery store, or at the mall, my head is acting like a windshield wiper. I stay aware and cognizant of what is going on around me and who is going on around me.

One day several years ago my job assignment was to watch a load-out of equipment that was being shipped overseas on a freighter at the Port of Houston. There is not one port in this country that is safe. The fringes are ridden with criminal types of all kinds and colors. It took longer than expected and I wasn’t able to leave until late at night. I was low on gas and stopped at the first fuel station I could find. While filling up my car’s tank, I noticed a man watching me. Unknown to him, I had a .32 caliber, Beretta Tomcat semi-automatic pistol in a belt holster, situated in the small of my back, concealed by my leather jacket. After a couple of minutes, he starts walking toward me. When it became apparent he was actually approaching me, and about fifteen feet away, I said, “That’s close enough.” He continued to come toward me. It was then I reached back and grabbed the grip of the pistol. I didn’t pull it, but I was ready to. I repeated, louder, “That’s close enough!” When the man saw my action, he stopped in his tracks. Just the threat that I might be armed stopped him. He said, “I just want to ask you a question.” I replied, “Ask me from there, I can hear you.” Why should I have let him get close enough to grapple with me, or slide a blade between my ribs? I didn’t know him and had no idea what was in his mind. The next thing he said was, “F*** you!”, and then walked away. Charming. If I don’t know who you are, and you want to approach me, it will be on my terms, not yours.

American Jews need to start acting more like their Israeli cousins. Don’t be willing victims, for you are already targets. Arm yourself. Hire armed specialists to protect you. For we live in perilous times. Ask your people in America how many swords they have. If they say they have some, then tell them that is enough. Then, when some maniacal, hate-filled goober walks in spouting his hatred and starts aiming his weapon, shoot him down like the dirty dog he is. Let God sort him out. 

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT Rewatch: 1X01 - Pilot

Who says you can’t go home?

The “Pilot” of Once Upon a Time is almost divine in how adored it is. I write this intro just as I prepare to press play on it, and I feel an undeniable tension in my heart. Is there anything that can be said about this episode that hasn’t been said a hundred times before? Am I able to say hello again so soon after saying goodbye?

Only one way to find out. *Presses play*

This gets a little long, so I’m going to be a good Tumblarian and stick my thoughts below the cut! Hope you give them a read!

-Press Release There’s no actual press release for the “Pilot,” but let’s be real, we know the deal. Emma Swan, a bail bondsperson has one hell of a 28th birthday when the son she gave up for adoption 10 years ago - Henry Mills - comes to her doorstep. A trip back to Henry’s hometown introduces Emma to an assortment of townspeople and an even more uncanny story of heroes and fairy tales. Meanwhile, in the past, we see Snow White and Prince Charming cope and fight for their love and family as the Evil Queen threatens them with a curse most vile.

-General Thoughts For a series that needs to weave a central theme around at least two separate plots, simplicity can be one’s best friend, and the “Pilot” is the epitome of that. The plots in and of themselves are simple - a war against a tyrant with a major threat in the flashback and a woman who has never had a family now dealing with one being thrown her way. However, it feels so much bigger, and that’s because hanging around our mains are characters and settings that you just know are going to grow in addition to our mains and transform these simple realms into something greater, something epic. Surrounding Snow and Charming during their discussion in the war room are a set of dwarfs, a fairy, and a cricket, and those same characters show up in our world and at the very least, Archie and Graham hold a promise of a larger role if for no other reason than their professions. We are being promised a more epic story without ever taking away time from the main story, and that’s simply incredible. I feel like there’s so much to gush about when it comes to performances, and because I don’t want this to be super long, I’m just going to highlight some of my favorite moments from each actor and actress in a single sentence. Jennifer as Emma walking towards Ryan like she was the God damned Terminator made me laugh hard and it characterized her as someone cool and confident, allowing for later scenes to paint more of her nuances by showing her vulnerabilities and desires for people in her life. Lana as Regina has a commanding presence during the wedding scene and shows off just what kind of threat she will be to all of those in her way going forward. Ginny as Snow giving up her baby and eternally coining the line “her best chance” is heartbreaking in such a profound way and allows the tragedy of their 28-year separation to subtly play out here and more overtly carry weight throughout the rest of the series. Jared as Henry’s pleas to Emma to listen to him convey a sense of innocence and vulnerability that can bring one back to the most frustrating moments of their childhood. Josh as Charming’s determination as he rides upon his steed in those opening moments allow the audience to feel every bit of intensity and immediately give his relationship with Snow - however obvious the turnout will be - some stakes. Finally, last but certainly not least, Bobby’s chilling performance as Rumple in the jail cell - from the movements of his long fingernails toe the sickly sweet way some of his lines come across - make him suo mysterious and scary as well as give Granny’s lines about him owning the town added weight. Finally, on a funnier note, I’m not gonna lie, but I always wanted an episode that would canonize the “prettier than I” line. Come on - throw Leopold in there, we get a bit more nuance into their relationship as well as see the effects on Regina of Leopold’s neglect for her needs over Snow’s and make a Regina/Snow present plot and there could’ve been something cool!

-Insights Here’s something I noticed during the wedding scene - The necklace Regina wears is the same one that Samedi brought to her in 7x12’s flashback. See “Flip My Ship” for my feelings on that, but I will point out that this gives us new insight as to when Facilier and Regina first met, although as she’s seen wearing it as the curse hits, it’s safe to say that at least one, if not both, of them could be replacements. Another thing I noticed shortly after that I just found funny was how during Regina’s speech to the Charmings, a lot of the guests weren’t cowering as much as gently averting their gazes. While watching the war scene, I couldn’t help but contrast it to the one in the finale. Snow lacks all manner of optimism in the one in the premiere, but by the finale, she’s the epitome of optimism! The wolf always seemed really weird to me, and now that I’ve seen its full schtick throughout the seasons, I gotta say, I’m not impressed. At first, it seems like the wolf was supposed to be a protector of Storybrooke, acting as an agent against Regina. But we’ve only seen it a handful of times and it’s acted like more of a MacGuffin than anything. And MacGuffins are fine, but this one was clearly supposed to mean something and it never really did, not even really in relation to what one would think would be its focal character (Graham).

-Arcs It’s hard to do a segment for arcs when a series has just begun because, well - every arc, in essence is beginning! And honestly, they’re all good, so I’m just going to write out the arcs that have been introduced here. Emma journey of belief Snow finding Charming The power struggle against Regina

-Favorite Dynamic Emma and Regina. I wanted to point this out somewhere, but the framing of their dynamic works so well. Parents who adopt children are more parents to a child than the parents who gave them up for adoption (Unless of course the birth parents died). This is something that we (should) fundamentally understand, especially in a case like this. Regina’s lines about changing diapers, enduring tantrums, and the like are true, and we - as well as Emma - sympathize and agree with that. Her position as mayor as well as the mother of a runaway boy also asks us to question our own feelings towards Regina throughout the episode. The animosity also doesn’t happen from the moment Regina and Emma meet. However, the conflict between them is not so simple. Due to both Regina’s harsh attitude and her actions in the Enchanted Forest, there’s an unease as we watch her, and while Emma’s situation in this matter is far from ideal on any level, we trust her and believe in the bond between her and Henry because while there is harshness there, there’s also an understanding. It’s such a nuanced conflict and knowing now where it has ended - in such a state where both mothers can co-parent Henry and enjoy each other’s company - allows for me to enjoy experiencing it again and appreciate the intricate steps taken making their relationship what it was.

-Writers As you all know, this was Adam and Eddy’s first episode, and it’s pretty freakin’ good! Unfortunately, until I’ve examine more of their episodes, I don’t have a lot to say here. The one thing I do want to point out is that - just like Regina in today’s episode - they are really good at making a strong entrance!

-Culture What made the “Pilot” of Once Upon a Time so popular? I didn’t watch this episode during its initial airing, but what I do know about the time it was released was that a lot of the dramas that were released tended to be gritty. There were exceptions like ABC’s Desperate Housewives, but it was a turn for the edgy in media. And then a show like OUaT came out, one that not only promised hope, but actually allowed for a payoff in the first episode, no matter how small it was in terms of plot. The score especially sells it. While there’s a tone of sadness to it, it’s overarching theme is hope, and that come off so clearly as it plays when the time on the clock changes.

-Rating How can I give it anything other than a Golden Apple? For those that didn’t read my intro, that’s essentially 10/10 with an * for it being truly something else. This episode is marvelous from top to bottom and its barely existent weaknesses are naught but nitpicks. Not only that, I feel like it left me with so much. I just wrote two and a half pages about this episode and I still feel like I’ve done a disservice to it. I didn’t talk about how just relatable and charming and magical everyone is. I touched upon performances, but there’s still so much to be said about everyone. How is it that Robert Carlyle wasn’t even on screen for five minutes and still left one of the biggest impacts of anyone, even some of those more featured than he was? I still have loads to say about Henry and Emma’s dynamic (I was tempted to cheat and put them up there too). I could talk into eternity about the parallels and the setups and the goofy moments in the background. I could speak to how even in episode 1, Storybrooke becomes more not of a place, but a character. I want to read all kinds of things into the line “There’s not a lot of things I’m great at in life.” This episode is so great that it makes me feel guilty for not glorifying it enough, and that’s what makes it worthy of a Golden Apple.

-Flip My Ship Shadow Queen - HE HAD HER PILOT NECKLACE!!!! OMG! MY SHADOW QUEEN SHIPPER HEART IS JUMPING FOR JOY! Snowing - Snowing’s connection throughout this episode was just awe inspiring. You feel the connection between them in every word they spoke and every exchange of expressions they held. It’s demonstrated the most clearly when Snow asks Charming to go and see Rumple. Just the way that she says “him,” and with a look, you just see how he gets it. At the same time, they’re not without conflict and distinctions between the two of them. They have disagreements and act on their own, but are still unmistakably meant for each other. There are many relationships on the show that attempt realism, and even Snowing itself in Storybrooke will encounter that, but moments like these paint Snowing as fantastical and paint a picture of romance here that becomes iconic. Swan Queen - I love me some FoeTP’s and their’s was one hell of a start! The ambiguity of Regina’s intentions and motives as well as sprinkles of selfishness and coldness with and on Emma’s part make their chemistry truly delightful! I reflected on what I liked about them above in my “Dynamics” section, but everything there works fully down here too.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

And that about covers my thoughts on the premiere! I promise you that future posts won’t be nearly as long (Fingers crossed. This took quite a few hours to put together). Hope you liked them and thanks once more to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales for putting this rewatch together! Season Tally (10/220) Writer Tally for Season 1: A&E (10/70)

[5hfanfiction]

you taste like my happiness

A/N: I feel kind of down lately. Which leads me to write happy one shots. Irony at its best.

Her Lauren isn’t the most romantic person there is. As simple as that. And after exactly ten years of being together and three very vivid discussions that still manage to bring Camila a headache to this date, she has grown to be fine with it.

Well, obviously Camila isn’t going to be ecstatic about her wife’s lack of grand gestures or her annoying dislike for red roses and lit candles. Some times are harder than others, like how Lauren tends to dread upcoming anniversaries, her wife knowing that the mentioned days usually come with a sullen Camila and an argument brewing right underneath.

But Camila makes it work somehow.

She sure as hell loves Lauren a lot more than to let that come between them. Or anything else for that matter.

Still, it doesn’t mean she can’t be bothered by it sometimes. Lauren has a lot of other good qualities, making up with small gestures of kindness. Like making sure the dinner is done and heated whenever Camila comes home late from work, or massaging her back after listening to her rambles about the old crooked office chair that makes her back and neck feel sore or her boss that basically has the same painful effect.

It’s not the lack of love that bothers Camila and she feels half-guilty for even thinking it’s an issue. Partly because she has a million papers to sort but mostly because Lauren is such a great wife. Always supportive, always loving. Unconditionally. Camila is so happy they’re well past the doubt factor, feeling absolutely secure in their relationship.

“Oh you’re going to be in trouble if Jenna sees you slacking like that.” Normani calls at her warningly from across her desk, her dark chocolate eyes barely visible above her computer screen, saving Camila from getting stuck in her own mind.

“Shit.” Camila blurts out as she looks at the growing pile of papers, immediately reaching for the first one and scanning it with her eyes, biting down on her lip.

“What’s up with you? I haven’t seen you this distracted since that time Lauren sent you a dirty text.” Normani comments as her smile widens in amusement at watching Camila’s cheeks flush bright red.

“Shut up.” Camila mumbles, making sure to dig back into the stack of paperwork. It’s unconscious, or maybe Camila means to do it, but she lets out an audible sigh, one that Normani immediately catches onto.

“Okay seriously. What’s going on with you today?” Normani asks again, furrowing her eyebrows as she looks at the brunette, expecting an explanation. She takes a pause from writing on her computer, adamant to wait until she gets a real answer. “Has Lauren done something? You’re rarely this quiet about your relationship.”

Camila ponders her next move for a few seconds, not sure if she should tell Normani or not. One thing is whining inside her own head, another is to actually air her complaints out loud. It’s not how Lauren and her usually do it. Their communication is rock solid, which is why they always come to each other first.

However, today is their anniversary and Camila is extra vulnerable. She’s allowed to let off some steam to her colleague.

“It’s our tenth year of being together.” Camila finally admits and mentioning anything in regards of Lauren has her habitually rubbing at the golden ring attached to her finger, becoming immensely aware that the ring should be enough in itself. The wedding was purely Camila’s wish and Lauren granted it in between their fifth and sixth year of dating.

“So? I know I’m awfully single right now, but anniversaries are usually a good thing.” Normani counters, thoroughly confused at the brown-eyed girl’s downhearted behavior.

“It’s not about the anniversary, or it is but it’s not a big deal.” Camila tries to explain, fumbling a bit with how to voice her issue elegantly so she just lets her dilemma out, flatly. “Lauren doesn’t like romance.”

At that, the corners of Normani’s mouth pull up into a huge grin, her laughter booming out into their office space next and it takes the short-haired girl a few seconds to regain her composure. “Oh my god Mila, I thought it was something serious.”

“It is! Lauren never does anything romantic and whenever I try to, she rolls her annoyingly pretty eyes at me.” Camila objects a little too loudly to which Normani only shakes her head.

“Mila, stop it. The only thing that really matters is that Lauren’s great and you know it.” Normani points out as she goes back to her works. “And I’m sorry, but I really have to finish this rapport or Jenna is going to murder me too. Probably after you, but still.”

Camila snorts a little, but returns to her work as well, simultaneously letting her shoulders sink down with a sigh. Normani is of course right, but it doesn’t mean Camila isn’t a little annoyed that her colleague isn’t taking this more seriously, which is nearly ironic because Camila also knows she is wrong for doing so.

“All I ask for is one bouquet of roses or a lit candle that is purposely placed there, not just as a decoration.” She can’t help but let it slip out, accepting the fact that she has to let it go when Normani shoots her a warning glare to get her to do exactly that. “Okay okay. I’m done.”

Camila makes an effort for the rest of the day to not bring up her silly complaints anymore, which helps elevate her mood and she is instantly back to being her energized goofy self, joking and talking casually with Normani until they’re done for the day and Camila walks up the stairs to their house. She is exhausted and it’s the first time today that she thinks lying on the couch with Lauren sounds like a good idea.

The first sign Camila gets that reveals that something is different, is one she doesn’t catch onto. It’s about when she opens the door after unlocking it, the door is still locked. Honestly, she doesn’t think much about it, way too tired for her brain to work properly. Instead she tries again and the lock clicks and the door opens smoothly.

Camila walks into their house and then automatically kicks off her painful stilettos and wriggles out of her jacket. When she hangs it on their rack, her eyes linger a little longer than usual. The second sign is hard, more like impossible to miss.

On top of the shelf above their clothing rack lies a single yellow rose, bright as the day and with a white envelope placed underneath. Camila’s name is scribbled on it in Lauren’s neat, distinctive handwriting and Camila gasps a little at the sight.

“Lauren!” She calls out eagerly as she reaches for the rose and the envelope, too excited to even notice that she doesn’t get a reply. She refrains from tearing the envelope open and decides to savior the moment instead, also determined to not let her animation ruin what’s inside.

A folded letter, which makes Camila’s smile widen and her heart flutters when she reads the four words written in Lauren’s elegant handwriting.

I love you-r shirt

     It was the day they met. The autumn had knocked at Miami’s door, painting the paved sidewalk in an alluring pattern of red and yellow and every color in between from the falling leaves. Camila was thrilled to finally get out of school, wanting to locate Dinah as quickly as possible to get out of there. What she didn’t expect though, was to find her bestfriend right next to the gate, not waiting for her, but actually talking to a certain somebody that immediately caused Camila’s breath to cramp together in her throat and her nerves to spike.

      The closer she got to them, the more her heart threatened to combust. It surely, unmistakably was Lauren Jauregui. The dark-haired girl in her math class that never seemed to mind helping others solve an equation and who always wore a genuine, brilliant smile that she had no problem sharing with basically everyone.

     Unfortunately, she was also the girl that Camila had developed a tiny, very innocent crush on. She hadn’t noticed it at first, and she wasn’t even sure yet, but something about Lauren’s smile was infectious to her, bringing her dozens of unfamiliar feelings that Camila hadn’t really felt before. Camila had wanted to talk to her at many occasions, but it was never a fitting moment. Lauren was usually sitting next to her friends and Camila wasn’t willing to go as far as to detach from her own group to maybe talk to the girl. She truly wasn’t that desperate. It was more of an admiration she held for the other girl.

     Now however, she was almost facing the girl and her eyes scanned her carefully. Lauren was wearing the black beanie she’d started to wear since the first leaf alternated from green to barely yellow, a black 1975 shirt underneath her black leatherjacket and with a grey scarf hanging around her neck. She was chatting animatedly with Dinah as her bestfriend laughed at something funny Lauren must have said.

     “Hi you!” Dinah greeted Camila happily when she noticed her presence, pulling her bestfriend into a tight hug and Camila returned an equally content ‘Hi!’.

     When they separated, Lauren had turned her attention to her and addressed her with a courteous, warm smile, but when it was Camila’s turn to speak, her thoughts crumbled.

     Maybe it was Lauren’s eyes looking at her, green as a blooming forest and vivid like the ocean waves crashing against the shore. Or maybe it was the comfort her presence radiated, welcoming and unwavering. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that Camila’s mind concluded that she did in fact have a crush on the charming beauty before Camila could consent and that was what caused her upcoming words to tumble out without her approval.

     “I love you-r shirt.” Became the first and last words Camila said to the girl before her cheeks flushed the deepest red they had ever been through her 16 years of existence. She could hear Dinah’s small snicker from her side and registered the tiny, nearly unnoticeable raise Lauren’s thick eyebrows took.

     Luckily, Lauren didn’t make a comment about her strange behavior, but smiled even wider at her. “Thanks.”

Camila smiles at the faint memory. She’d only been 16 years old back then, a newborn when it came to the kind of love she would experience and unknown to what the constantly smiling girl would mean to her.

It’s amazing how four short words, that to anyone else would be insignificant, can almost bring tears to Camila’s eyes, but she keeps her composure.

“Lauren!” She tries to call at her wife again lovingly, wanting nothing more than to hug the woman tightly and kiss her all over her face.

When Camila doesn’t get an answer, she naturally goes to search for Lauren herself. She takes a left, right into their kitchen, expecting to maybe find her wife at the stove, cooking them dinner. The only thing remotely living in their kitchen though, is another rose very similar to the one she is currently holding in her hand, except this one has a delicate red tip. There’s another letter resting beside it, the written words shining invitingly at her.

It didn’t take me one moment to fall in love with you Camila. It was more like a slow burning process. A balance between feeling brave and scared, eager and content, yours and mine. Most defining and memorable balance I ever had to face was probably the one tiptoeing around our friendship, wondering whether there was a line to cross or not.

But the moment I found out I was in love with you, was the same night I realized it didn’t matter what a shooting star was, but the importance lied within what I wished upon.

     It was a 'star-y’ night Camila had decided to call it. And it was the last one she would spend in this garden, at this blanket and in this exact position right next to Lauren. They were resting on their backs, looking up at the dark sky while counting shooting stars, or burning rocks as Lauren referred to them as.

     “I see another one!” Camila exclaimed, thrilled, pointing up at the sky to which a star had just fell. “Wow, that makes it two in one night. Do you think it’s a coincident that two stars fall at the same night we’re going to college?”

     “I think that’s sort of a stretch.” Lauren laughed endearingly at the other girl, “and I told you, it’s not a star falling Camila. It’s a meteoroid entering our atmosphere and burning. And the trail of light is a meteor, more precisely, it’s translated heat.”

     Camila rolled her eyes. She’d known the girl for about two years and Camila had learned to be amused with Lauren’s desire to keep things authentic.

     “Well, it’s beautiful.” Camila commented with a smile.

     “That it is.” Lauren agreed and gulped, rolling over to her side to look at Camila. Her head suddenly filled with all the thoughts she’d only dared to wonder in the am. Camila immediately copied the action, turning to her side to meet Lauren’s thoughtful gaze.

     Lots of people’s eyes changed through the years, not exactly aging, but went through different stages of colors. Lauren’s hadn’t. They looked to be in a darker shade tonight, but that was probably more due to the gloominess around them than anything else. They were still as beautiful and expressive as always, sparkling with love for the world and an endless kindness.

     “Do you think we’ll be able to keep in touch after we leave this place?” Lauren asked and Camila could hear the touch of fear in Lauren’s voice as the girl tried to overshadow it by holding her gaze confidently.

     Camila really wanted to say yes in that moment. But the rational part of her saw the way Lauren was begging for reality and not a lie. “I sure hope so.” Camila let out with a huff following, answering the question honestly.

     She wasn’t sure what Lauren had thought of moving so far away from each other. They had only grown closer with each year passing, but they hadn’t had to face the consequences of separation yet. Who knew what their friendship would be like.

     It was different with Dinah. Camila had known the girl since childhood and being friends forever was what made her feel secure in their friendship.

     A complete contrast to how she felt with Lauren.

     (That sentence seemed to be the epitome of her life since Lauren had entered.)

     In all fairness, everything seemed to be a contrast in comparison to Lauren. Lauren’s hugs were warmer, tighter and her words made more sense. Camila’s emotions ran wild with Lauren, but she also felt content whenever she was close to her. Which was strange. As things also felt very elevated in the dark-haired girl’s presence. Camila had learned about an awareness that she had never possessed before.

     Suddenly she was aware of how Lauren’s pupils dilated the instant she talked to people regardless of who they were, like the simple human contact made her sincerely happy. Or that Lauren had little wrinkles at each corner of her mouth seemed to have become a permanent attribute, probably because of the girl’s constant smiling.

     "It’s okay if we don’t because…“ Camila started and took a firm hold of Lauren’s left hand in hers, interlacing their fingers in a very slow motion. They had held hands before, but this time felt a little bit different, as if the skin inside the palm of her hand was unfamiliar to Lauren’s. Each of Camila’s skin cells were highly sensitive, searching and discovering the contours and warmth emitting from Lauren’s hand like never before.

     Camila couldn’t help but connect their eyes, her senses activated and inside of her formed a sentence that she wasn’t ready to make sense of yet. Not out loud and definitely not to the girl in front of her.

     Instead, she said the things she could say. "Because if that ever happens I know it will be you, and I know it’ll be because you’re happy. And that’s all I want.”

     Lauren closed her eyes, sighing before dropping her voice lower, a husky tone covering her next words. “I want you to be happy too.”

     Something changed in their friendship that day. Maybe it was the nerves from knowing they would move to college the next day. Or maybe, maybe it was the fact that when Lauren opened her eyes to look at her again, Camila swore she saw something she’d never seen before. Not anything she understood, but it sure as hell was something she wanted to.

After finishing her second letter, Camila cries. To be honest it’s long overdue. The tears huddle up in her eyes until they release as overflowing rivers of happiness and inevitably decide to trail down her cheeks in thick uncontrollable streams. She lifts her hand to cover her mouth, suppressing a sob that’s on it’s way up. That’s what she saw, all those years ago. It was Lauren realizing she loved her.

Camila’s heart is beating hard in her chest and she hopes for God sake that everyone in the world gets their own Lauren, because her wife is the best thing that has happened to her.

She takes a few moments to regain composure, but as soon as she does, all she wants is to find her wife, wanting to express her gratitude and love for the woman.

Apparently Lauren is on a mission and Camila has only began her journey as she discovers a wooden frame nailed to the wall next to the kitchen entrance, one that certainly wasn’t there before Camila had left for work. It’s a single sign that has been overlooked in the chaos of mysterious letters and overwhelming surprises.

She immediately puts down the yellow rose and the first letter down on the kitchen table, bouncing over to scrutinize the picture eagerly, wiping away the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Messy mascara and roughed up appearance aren’t even on her mind as she views the picture.

However, there isn’t a just a photo behind the glass like she originally had thought. Camila’s jaw nearly drops to the floor as she’s staring right at her own handwriting. It’s a letter she had written to Lauren during their first year of college. The pair had shared an awkward first kiss right before Lauren drove off and Camila remembers feeling so completely and utterly confused when Lauren hadn’t contacted her for three whole weeks afterwards.

Now it’s a strange thing to think about how every fight, every argument or break up they’ve faced have led them to this moment. It’s funny how things that at the time completely broke her and made her so sad, border to devastated, are events that she is thoroughly grateful for today. It’s her greatest motivation, that if they have been able to not let those things divide them yet, they’ll survive anything.

Camila has her own authentic proof that things do get better. Admittedly, it may take some time and sometimes better comes in form of a raven-haired girl with kindness laced in her smile, but it does happen and when it happens, it’s beautiful.

Down in the corner of her letter is a small photo, a polaroid of Lauren and her that she’s never seen before. They’re both smiling into a kiss, Lauren’s hands fastened on her hips while her own arms are securely locked around Lauren’s neck. Camila’s heart skips a beat as the memory of her wife’s lips against hers replays in her mind.

One sentence is scribbled above their heads in black marker and Camila suddenly is utterly baffled what she has done to deserve somebody as amazing as Lauren.

You taste like my happiness.

Camila has to control her breathing again, the sobs threatening to burst out as she closes her eyes, drawing a slow breath. And just like that, she feels two arms carefully wrap around her waist and she lets her weight to slightly fall back into the body behind her. It’s Lauren. It’s her perfume, her presence, her warmth. It’s everything Camila has ever wanted in her life.

“Happy anniversary, babe.” Lauren husks out close to her ear and Camila can hear the evident tremble in her voice. And it soothes her a little, to know that Lauren is as affected by the moment as she is.

She turns around in Lauren’s embrace, opening her eyes to see the broad smile that threatens to give her heart palpitations. Lauren opens her mouth but Camila shakes her head, hands reaching up to cup her wife’s cheeks gently, leaning in to catch her lips in hers before Lauren can say anything more.

It’s one of the most intense kisses they’ve ever shared and Camila doesn’t think she’s been smiling this much before. Lauren is firmly squeezing her hips and Camila can’t help but lose herself in girl’s infectious comfort.

When their lips finally part, they’re slightly out of breath and Lauren immediately chuckles. “I guess this means you like the surprise.”

Camila smiles and gives a confirming nod, her eyes still never leaving Lauren’s while her hands softly held Lauren’s face lovingly. “Like is an understatement. I don’t think it’s possible to love someone more than I love you.”

“I only have one gift left.” Lauren suddenly says and drops down on one knee.

Which makes Camila’s eyes widen, before she burst into a fit of laughter. “Babe. I hate to tell you, but we’re sort of married already.”

“No shit.” Lauren rolls her eyes, but cracks a smile. “I’m not going to propose, I’m giving you your final gift.” She reveals as her hand digs into her back pocket of her jeans and she fishes out another folded letter and presents it to Camila.

However, when Camila reaches for it excitedly, Lauren holds onto the other end a little tighter, refusing to let it go with a playful expression etched her face. “Not so fast,” she teases and Camila raises a brow. “I’m down on one knee, which means you owe me an answer.”

“Yes.” Camila returns almost before Lauren can finish her sentence.

“You haven’t even heard my question yet.” Lauren chuckles at her impatient wife.

“I don’t have to. My answer will always be yes to you, Lauren.” Camila says seriously, and a gentleness settles over Lauren’s face.

“I want to ask you though.” Lauren tells her and all of a sudden, she looks completely nervous. “Because I know I’m the worst at romance but I want to take you to Paris. But Camila, I truly can’t wait to admire the city of love from the top of the Eiffel Tower with you, or to be reminded that no view can compare to the one I get to wake up to every morning.”

“Yes.” Camila blurts out endearingly, blinking away a few tears as Lauren grins, finally letting go of the letter and allowing Camila to unfold it. Inside there are two tickets to Paris, but Camila’s brown eyes are drawn to the written words.

Dear Camila.

With you I’ve learned the lessons they forgot to teach you in school. Being by your side have taught me how to love. To love you for you and to love me for me, and to love love, because love is a pure and beautiful concept that should never be tainted with anything butpride and utter care.

I loved you even before I could understand it myself, and I want to thank you for making me understand this confusing world in the purest of ways. You’ve showed me what life can be like and what real serenity feels like.

My love for you keeps growing, as it should, as it will. It grows each time you laugh, or smile or breathe.

You have always said that love is a choice you make twice a day. Each morning you wake up and each night before you go to sleep. Thanks for choosing me and know that I will keep choosing you, for as long as I can and then a little more.

I love you in my saddest of moments and in my happiest moments. But most importantly, I love you in every moment between.

Love, your Lauren.

Camila gets completely lost in the words, her brain struggling to form any thoughts other than love.

And when Camila looks up she finds Lauren still standing in front of her, but now she’s carrying the two roses Camila found earlier in one hand and a single red rose in the other, smiling bashfully at her.

“These are our story.” Lauren breathes the words out with a loving smile and it takes Camila a few moments to connect the dots.

However, when she does, she is pretty sure that her heart has overfilled with love and that she’s on a high she’ll never get down from.

After all, their story starts and ends like every great love story.

1. Friendship.

2. Falling in love.

3. Love.

[davidmann95]

May I please ask how you would rank the various Live Action Lex Luthors? (also, if you were assembling a "Luthorstein" out of these performers then which bits of them would you stitch in before applying the vivifying shock?).

As usual with these I have to recuse myself from a couple of the takes in question since I’m not familiar with say, Lyle Talbot. But I do have to give the most honorable of mentions to Superboy’s Luthor actors, Scott Wells:

…and Sherman Howard:

Shine on, you beautiful loons.

5. Jessie Eisenberg

For the first two acts of Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice, Eisenberg is actually a really good Lex Luthor. A radical new take, no question, but that whole bit where he’s slowly turning up the intensity on a politician to get control of Kryptonian tech, culminating in literally shoving a jolly rancher in his mouth as a low-grade but unmistakable show of utter dominance? That is Lex Luthor as all get-out, and while not every choice Eisenberg, Snyder and company made with him totally hit the mark, it all at least made some kind of sense in the context of revamping him as a Zuckerberg-y 21st century Evil Businessman (not knowing just how much the 80′s corporate tycoon was about to come back into fashion as a horror story for America), with just enough darkness peeking out from underneath to stoke the appetite for seeing him laid bare. 

The problem is when the mask comes off, and it turns out his true nature is being very possibly the worst big-screen supervillain of all time; a tittering, spasmodic caricature of mental illness, squeaking and barking about circles and Alice In Wonderland in heartbreakingly pathetic attempts at faux-profundity between half-explanations for hating Superman because of his daddy proving God doesn’t exist. There’s a lot about the DCEU that gets ragged on that at least doesn’t deserve the intensity of the criticism, even some of the truly awful bits I can at least kind of conceive of someone getting stimulation or satisfaction out of, but the Luthor we’re presented with here is genuinely, inarguably unforgivable by any but the most pathologically dedicated of contrarians. Not that he’s necessarily unsalvageable - Eisenberg himself remains an inspired choice, and the worst bits could be written off in the future as a product of Darkseid’s influence - but given the establishment of a Lex Luthor Sr. to potentially return from the dead and take his son’s place, I suspect the creators themselves at least suspected this could turn out as horribly as it did.

4. Gene Hackman

His low ranking here isn’t meant as a knock on Hackman’s performance - if nothing else, “We all have our little faults. Mine’s in California” is stone-cold one of the best supervillain lines of all time. But while he’s fantastic as an enemy for Reeve’s Superman, unapologetically blown up on his own intellect and ambition, he’s only Luthor in the most technical sense as a selfish follically-challenged genius who needs Superman out of the way and has the narcissism to think he can get the job done. He works spectacularly in his context, but it’s ultimately a different character.

3. Kevin Spacey

If it weren’t for Eisenberg, Spacey would be the definition of wrong place, wrong time when it comes to Lex Luthor. He brings so much that works to the table - the quiet confidence, the callous disdain for humanity, the raw genius, and the venomous hate just waiting for a chance to claw its way to the surface - but Superman Returns was trying to have its cake and eat it too, playing up some more traditional Luthor attributes while keeping him in the mold of Hackman’s version with more wigs, goofy stage-left exits and another genocidal real-estate scheme, and while it doesn’t quite tear him apart, it critically undercuts what could have been a classic take on the character.

2. John Shea

Not many seem to hold any particular fondness for Shea’s performance on Lois and Clark, but I’ve always thought of his take on Lex as inspired. Certainly he was the smoothest Lex Luthor, the take on the character from any medium I could most easily believe conning Metropolis into seeing him as their savior, while just as plausibly cackling as he tortures Superman in a basement on his wedding day. But it was his overall air of amused but only vaguely self-aware superiority that won me over, quoting Shakespeare at the drop of a hat in a transparent attempt at proving his intellectual boda-fides even as he genuinely manipulates and destroys everything in his way, articulating the pettiness and ego that drives Luthor in a fashion unlike anyone else. And most importantly, we see in the first episode that he has his servant occasionally try to kill him to keep him on his toes - ala Cato in The Pink Panther - and when he sets a cobra on his master, Lex just stares at it with all the intensity he can muster until it backs off and slithers away, at which point Luthor sheds a single, perfect tear. It is the most metal moment of all time.

1. Michael Rosenbaum

His performance would have been iconic in any context, but on Smallville his every scene was the living embodiment of “listen up 5s, a 10 is speaking”. I’ve discussed his work as Lex before, and while certain aspects of this take only really suit the character in the show’s particular soap opera context - the focus on his business acumen over his genius, his relationship with his father (John Glover being the 11 in the previous metaphor), precisely how his rivalry with the man who would be Superman is born - Rosenbaum brought a scale of intensity, cold intellect, charisma, desperation and vulnerability to the role that defined Lex Luthor in the eyes of a generation and saw him easily bypass any competition as the greatest live-action Lex Luthor to date, likely for decades to come.

As for the Frankenstein, Rosenbaum as the base (or at least his passion and vulnerability), Shea’s charm, Hackman’s wit, Spacey’s cold cruelty, and Eisenberg’s attempt at delving into the more philosophical underpinings of his war with Superman, if hopefully dragged upwards by the residual quality of the others.

[onestowatch]

Huron John Welcomes You to the Kaleidoscopic World of ‘Apocalypse Wow’ [Q&A]

John Conradi, also known as Huron John, is taking the world by storm… again. We first saw the likes of him last year, when he teased the release of Apocalypse Wow, a nine song, longform project that was fully-realized on April 22, Earth Day. 

Since our initial discovery of Huron John, he has broken up this piece of work into three singles and two volumes, accompanied by three visuals, all of which help tell the out-of-this-world story Conradi is painting for his listeners. Apocalypse Wow has seen some major Spotify love with playlisting on the likes of Lorem, Bedroom Pop, POLLEN, and All New Indie. We were able to chat with Huron John via e-mail to get a glimpse into the kaleidoscopic world of Apocalypse Wow.

How did the Apocalypse Wow project begin? 

Huron John: It kind of synthesized itself organically from another project that I scrapped. Back in spring 2019, I wanted to make an album-style project called Sleeping With My Socks On. There was some cool ideas, but It just wasn’t coming out the way I wanted it to. I felt like I was really trying to force a longer-form project to get myself out of that Bedroom Pop box that my first single “Friendzone” was kind of pushing me into. 

I always come up with titles before anything, and my favorite idea from that Sleeping With My Socks On project was a song called Apocalypse Wow. That title really struck me, and I wanted to do something with it. It was originally going to be another four song EP to complete a trilogy kind of thing between my other EP’s Never Inside and Fanta Fantasy. I got back to Chicago for summer break, and it went from a four song project to a five song one, then six, then six. You get the gist. 

Why break it up into volumes, to then have all the music combine into one? 

The greater story of the project is double-sided. On one end, you have the emotional end of it, which is the whole “breakup album” thing. I wanted to make an album about youth “breaking up” with you, throwing you into adulthood. Then there’s the other side, the whole comic-book-style narrative thing about the kid Andy who saves the planet from giant robots. I wanted Volume 1 and Volume 2 to tell pieces of each of those concepts without giving everything away at once. 

The last song on the project, “Use The Birth For All It’s Worth,” serves as the “conclusion” to the Apocalypse Wow part of this larger story. The lyrics from that last track are supposed to be Andy persuading the aliens to spare the Earth even though we can be a fucked up species sometimes. I wanted that to serve as a cinematic conclusion in a way, so the “Volumes” definitely played a big role in providing that narrative suspense. The other day a friend told me “You made it seem like the same album dropped eight times” hahahaha. 

The shift in tone from your earlier bedroom-pop tinged tracks, such as “Friendzone” or “Yoko,” to the Apocalypse Wow stuff is pretty dramatic. What inspired this shift? 

I had a lot of fun making my earlier stuff like that. Not even to say “had,” like I’ll never make shit like that again, I will. I guess once those songs started to see some success, I was faced with a dilemma. Music is all I’ve wanted to do my entire life, and I thought to myself, “The style of these quirkier ‘bedroom pop’ songs is cute and trendy at the moment, but this won’t make people know me in 20 years. This won’t cement me as an artist people enjoy for years to come.” 

I wanted to offer a little something more, while still keeping that fun and accessible feeling the old stuff had. I wanted to keep the same characteristics of what I know my listeners come to me for, while pushing the envelope a little bit and getting more serious substance wise. Hopefully that landed. At the end of the day I just want to make people's lives better with my shit, whether they come to me for more concept and substance or just fun / casual music. 

Why did you choose a more concept-based long-form project as an artist who is still completely DIY? 

I guess it’s just what I know. Not that anyone needed to prove this, because these types of projects certainly are out there, but I wanted to show kids who want to make music that they can be project artists. Especially in the whole “indie” world, whatever that means, there’s way too much emphasis on singles. An artist will pump out 10 singles in one year, like what’s that about? I understand it from a business perspective, and some could criticize me saying that me splitting up my project into “Volumes” before the full release was completely business oriented. Fair critique hahahaha. I guess I just wanted to show that to be a successful “DIY” musician in 2020 doesn’t mean that you need to pump out a million singles that sound the same until some corporation thinks you’re worthy of becoming “theirs.” 

The range in moods / genres on the project is very wide. Was this intentional? How did this wide range in styles making up the project come about? 

Totally intentional! I wanted it to have something for everybody. “Why Do People Grow” can be appreciated by alt-rock fans. The people into more electronic music can fuck with “Death By Flying Saucer.” “Andy and Butter” give that alternative R&B edge. Etc., etc. It was really important to me to make it enjoyable by everyone. 

On your website, there’s a section about how within the musical project, there is a narrative about a boy who saves the Earth from an army of aliens and their Godzilla-like robot leader. What inspired this? Does this narrative relate to your pre-Apocalypse Wow catalogue? 

Hahahah there sure is. I’ve always been a huge fan of concept albums. Whether they have concept in a linear storyline or they’re just thematic, I’ve always been obsessed with that whole thing. Wolf, To Pimp A Butterfly, Machina: The Machines of God, the whole anime movie thing behind Daft Punk’s Discovery, etc. Loving albums like that since I was a little kid definitely inspired the desire to move in that direction. I owe a lot to my influences and all the amazing work that has inspired me. 

This narrative totally relates to my pre-Apocalypse Wow catalogue. I plan on releasing some type of document that grows with every release involving the storyline. Before all the Apocalypse Wow music, you can interpret EP’s like Never Inside and Fanta Fantasy as the character arc of Apocalypse Wow’s protagonist–the experiences that shaped who he is, I guess. You’ll hear more on that later. 

Will Apocalypse Wow forever play a role in the “artist narrative” that you frequently speak about? 

Yes it will. Apocalypse Wow is the first official building block towards getting to the endgame. The first book in quite a long fucking series. It’s going to forever play a role in the stuff that I’m going to make, I want to think that my entire career will tie back to this project in some way. Whether it’s extremely vague, or very blunt, it will. 

You completely conceptualized and edited all of the visuals behind Apocalypse Wow, an eye-catching one being the “Project Teaser” video. Describe the creative process behind your videos. 

Visuals are an extremely important part of all the Huron John shit, for sure. The “Project Teaser” video I made with some of my friends throughout all of fall 2019. The whole project (the music) was completed and ready to go by mid-October 2019. I was supposed to drop it on Black Friday all as one thing, but some shit went down, and I wanted to rethink it all. The “Project Teaser” was a sort of introductory step into the narrative shoes that I wanted the project to fill. 

My process when creating visuals is a glorified clusterfuck–I have no formal training in editing or film, and it kind of shows hahahaha. But in a charming and sincere way, I hope. I used to fuck around in iMovie a ton when I was like 10, and me and all my friends from middle school used to make goofy ass sketch-comedy videos and BMX edits. I’ve always loved visual stuff. Making the cover arts, the music videos, or whatever else has always been an extension of the music for me. That’s really important. I definitely do want to break out of that DIY box though and work with some video-people who actually know what they’re doing. 

Where is your music going next? 

I know, but I don’t know. I want to make dance music. But I also want to make even more emotionally vulnerable and revealing shit than what was on Apocalypse Wow. Maybe I can find a middle-ground. I’m just now in the early stages of experimentation for my next project, so we’ll see where it all goes. The only thing I currently have for it is a title. All I know for certain is that I will use that title for the project, and it will fit into the Apocalypse Wow storyline.

Listen to Apocalypse Wow below:

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shackled News and a bit more

Howdy, folks. 

EDIT: I just posted the last chapter of Shackled!!!!!!!!!. I wanted to thank everyone for their lovely comments and reblogs. Everyone has been so very encouraging and excited, and it’s been fantastic, I gotta say.

Now that Shackled is finished, I will begin posting another multi- chapter Supernatural story. Please, if you’d like, take a minute to look over the preview below. If you’d like to be added to my Long Haul (everything) tag list or you’d like to be placed on the Walk Me Home list, let me know, and I will adjust accordingly. Again, thank you so much for sticking with the story, jumping in on the story, just hanging out with me and the story. Y’all are the best. 

Walk Me Home

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. I had fun writing it, so I hope you’ll have fun reading it. Trying to keep preview shorter, so I promise huge shoutouts to EVERYONE who helped me SO MUCH with this story.

Inspired by P!nk’s song “Walk Me Home”

Story Warnings (None of these apply to preview): Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Chapter 1 Preview

A firm tap on the door of her office makes Kimberly’s head snap up. She blinks, her eyes unable to focus quickly after looking up from her computer screen. She remembers she’s wearing her reading glasses, and slips them off her nose, letting them dangle from the chain around her neck.

“Dr. Harper? Could I take a few minutes of your time?”

“Yes, I…” Her eyes finally focus on her visitor, and the room is suddenly devoid of oxygen. “Dean? Is it...really?”

“Kimber?” 

The astonished man framed in the doorway is a far cry from the brash, charming boy she met in a different life, but she’d know him anywhere. Time has been more than kind to Dean Winchester, and Kimberly has to admit some things really do get better with age.

Which is saying a lot, considering.

“God, no one’s called me that since high school.” She stands and takes a couple of measured steps around her desk. Seeing him unexpectedly like this after so much time leaves her physically and emotionally off-balance, but the smile she offers him is genuine. “You’re a helluva sight for sore eyes. It’s been a while.”

Dean recovers from his shock quickly, crossing the small room in a few quick strides, and sweeps her into a hug. She’s engulfed in his presence, not just his physical stature (she does not remember him being this tall or broad or...solid) but also the scent and feel that is absolutely Dean. She feels a shock of vertigo as memories and emotions she’d long laid to rest all vie for immediate attention.

It hits them simultaneously that they’ve embraced for a few moments longer than necessary, and they disentangle with sheepish smiles.

“What are...no, I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Have a seat!” A lop-sided smile pulls at Dean’s lips, and suddenly she’s seventeen again, trying desperately to keep her cool as she finally gets to talk to the handsome, mysterious new kid. Warmth floods every cell of her body, and she comes dangerously close to giggling. 

“Coffee?” she offers, forgetting most of her hard-earned vocabulary in the face of her teenage dream.

“Always.”

...

The last time she’d seen Dean Winchester, his father was burning holes in his elder son’s back from the driver’s seat of his precious Impala. He glowered at Dean and Kimber, impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as the teenagers stumbled through their good-byes. Dean’s younger brother sat, slump-shouldered and defeated in the back seat, resigned to yet another relocation.

“Don’t forget my number,” Kimberly murmured, her palms sliding over his jaw, fingers threading into his close-cropped hair, and they both knew she meant, “Don’t forget me.”

“I couldn’t if I tried, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. He cleared his throat, trying to turn away before she could see any weakness.

“Don’t,” she said, holding his face firmly. “If this is all I get of you, don’t even take that much from me.”

Five blissful weeks they’d had before Dean’s father concluded his mysterious business in the area. Five weeks since she’d begun tutoring Dean in AP American History; an absolute sham, she had realized exactly five minutes into their first session. Dean may not have been caught up on the exact dates and details of what they were covering in class, but once he set eyes on the material, even she had a hard time keeping pace with his reasoning.

“Just wanted to talk to you alone,” he’d admitted that afternoon, his olive eyes sparkling. He flashed her what had to be an award-winning half-grin, showing a glimpse of perfect, dazzling white teeth and the merest touch of uncertain vulnerability. 

“Does that usually work on girls?” she asked, genuinely curious. He had to practice that expression in the mirror; it was too perfect to be natural. His face lit up as his smile spread, his cheeks gaining the faintest hint of pink. In that one moment, Kimber realized she’d lived her entire life under an overcast sky, and now the clouds had parted. His smile was the sun on her face for the first time, dazzling and vital, and she soaked it in with dizzy abandon.

“Why, is it working on you?”

“Yeah, it, um, it really is.”

They spent the next month or so getting to know each other as only kids can, when everything is new, the absolute pinnacle of priority and passion. They studied each other as fervently as they should have studied for midterms. Explaining how the Age of Enlightenment influenced the American Revolution was a complete waste of time next to finding out that the beautiful, smooth-talking, tough-as-nails Dean Winchester was actually ticklish.

Dean told her the most amazing stories, which she only learned were true after he and his family disappeared. She caught him up in history enough for the teacher to get off his back, and in return he showed her how to get rid of unwanted physical attention with minimal risk on her part.

Dean wasn’t her first kiss, but he wiped the memory of every other fumbling embrace from her mind with a searing permanence. Some nights they snuck out to the tree house in her backyard, and some nights she snuck him into her room. He would never take her out to any of the famous local make-out spots, though; he said they were too dangerous and just begging for trouble. 

She knew better than to argue with him when he got “that look” on his face, spoke to her in “that tone.” It took many years and some hard experiences of her own, but she did eventually learn that he’d been protecting her from so much more than she ever could have understood at that point in her life.

She found herself in awe of the sheer amount of wisdom contained in such a carefree, often goofy package. That they were chronologically the same age, almost to the month, was irrelevant; Dean Winchester had lived far beyond his years, and it showed.

And then one night, he’d arrived on her doorstep in the middle of dinner, asked if she could come outside for a minute. When he told her he was leaving, she knew he wasn’t joking. He’d warned her it would happen this way, that he had no idea how long they’d be in town, but she’d always imagined that future as some vague, misty destination, like “graduation” or “college.” Definitely going to happen, but not anytime soon, so might as well relax and enjoy things while you could.

“I…” But she couldn’t say it, not yet. She wanted to, had read so many novels and seen all the movies. It was the thing to say, and half her friends had already proclaimed their hearts belonging to various celebrities and hot guys around school. But staring into Dean’s eyes, so much older than they should be, she knew better than to throw that word out so lightly, carelessly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. His eyelids dropped, shoulders heaved once, and when he met her gaze again, that smooth front of cool confidence had slid back in place. “I know, sweetheart. Me, too.”

He kissed her then, despite his father’s glowering, despite her parents’ astonished looks from between the living room curtains. His hands were tight on her waist, and she raised up on her toes, pulling his face just a little closer. 

They pulled apart after a long moment, eyes locked, and she kissed him one last time, chastely, savoring the plush of his velvet-soft lips against hers. 

Then she let him go, and he went. There was nothing else they could do.

She hugged herself against the chill autumn night, ignoring the first dashes of icy rain that stung her bare arms as she watched the black Impala turn a corner and disappear.

She didn’t see him again for nearly two and a half decades. When he knocked on her office door, asking for Dr. Harper, the years melted away. She felt the sting of the rain, the chill of the night he’d left, and for a long moment, all she could do was stare.

[theculturalevolution]

2016:  The Year in Review

by David

What a MISERABLE year!   What a God forsaken year, both politically and personally.   And 2017 doesn’t look any better, at least in terms of public life, and likely a lot worse.  I barely want to discuss it.  Why add my thoughts to the many words already expended on this public farce?  We’ve been in touch with some of life’s truisms:  that we don’t always get what we want no matter how much we want it, that the world is not fair or even reasonable, and that life ends.  But this year of public and private tragedy has been mitigated foremost by my family and friends, and, secondarily by the loving and healing world of pop culture.  It’s times like these when we need our cultural lives, and the implied communities those interests provide us.  

But this has also been the year when the time/space continuum imploded for me, pop culturally speaking.  I mean that my consumption of the stuff I write about became largely unmoored by any sense of temporality.  I watched and listened and read stuff with little sense of when it was produced.  One can, of course, do that now with streaming.  It is a funny way to consume pop culture given that the essence of pop culture is its nowness and its symbiotic relationship to the present.  I know, however, that given the collapse of time/space I (and, I assume, everyone) am in an eternal, solipsistic and existential now.  We all create our own pop universes and live in our own independent popular culture.  I know that because I still don’t believe that Donald Trump is President. That fact shocks me every morning when I read the news. We create our own communities virtual or actual, listen to our own facts and have difficulty comprehending a world unlike our own.   Where is that former standard arbiter of popular taste – the water cooler moment – when we work from home or drink bottled water at our own cubicles.  I was at a gathering recently, talking about TV and no one else knew the shows others were presenting as their own personal current faves.

D. Trump/A. Baboon

Anyway, sometimes life sucks, but much of the time it doesn’t. So in this new, strange, fragmented world I want to present what was culturally significant to me in 2016.  

D. Trump/A. Baldwin

Given the rent in the time-space continuum, the first item of business has got to be the movies I missed in 2015 but caught up with in 2016, and thought noteworthy. 

Sicario – beautifully directed, slick and tense, morally ambiguous, with some character and plot inconsistencies. 45 Years – the best of this lot, a luminous and quiet film about relationships.  Though notice went to Charlotte Ramplings’ vibrant performance, I was bowled over by Tom Courtney’s vulnerable and transparent acting.  A great film.  

45 Years

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl – better than you think.   Diary of a Teenage Girl – more disturbing than you think.   Brooklyn – subtle and sweet. I saw this in the same weekend as the Revenant and my head nearly exploded negotiating the extreme chick/dude movie dichotomy.   The Martian – Golden Globe for best comedy????  Huh?  It was, however, fun to watch. Straight Outta Compton – certainly not on the level of the best films, but enlightening and energetic. The Revanent – beautiful, long and gruesome.  What was the point, again?   Room – creates its own world like it’s supposed to.   Bridge of Spies – It’s not the time for my Spielberg discussion, but FINE, and I mean that as a compliment here.   Carol – so that’s what the 50s were about.

The most culturally significant addition to my social media arsenal:   Instagram (i.e. the only addition to my social media arsenal):  When I wrote poetry I would apprehend my world through snippets of language I gathered in my head.  Now I see the world through discrete visual stimuli, and I have a community to share them with.  A whole new reality, and another way that my caring daughter has shepherded me into this brave new world.    

Best Concert:  Ghost Light Radio Show at The Big Chill Cantina in Rehoboth. Sometimes the best band in the world is your neighbor’s cover band playing for a crowd at an open air beach bar on a beautiful summer night:   “Maggie May”, “Copperhead Road”, “Interstate Love Song”, “What I Like About You”, “Thinkin’ Out Loud” and tons more songs that sound great with beer.

GLRS

TV: Glittering Prizes – 70’s British series about friends from Cambridge University that I finally caught up with forty years later.  What an unusual, touching, intelligent pleasure.  

Veep – binged this one.  The joy of invective, hatred, self interest and wild profanity!  Politics as humiliation!  The delight of pure id!  Julia Louis-Dreyfus offers one of the all-time greatest female comedy performances, fearless in her full embrace of the characters’ substantial flaws. Unlikeableness reaches new levels. This series was absurdly hilarious and outlandish when Obama was President,  and now is devastating and nightmarish with Trump.  In a surreal moment I watched the final episode about transfer of power the night before the inauguration.  Arghhhhhhhhhh!

JL-D/Veep

Fargo – The first season explores the nature of evil in the world.  Stunning and dark.  

  Red Oaks – Endearing coming of age Amazon show set in the 80s in a New Jersey country club.  Top notch directors and two mensch actors in Richard Kind and Richard Mazur (in a bit role).  Like Philip Roth in setting and theme, if not in tone or quality.

  John Oliver and Bill Maher – how else to stay informed?

Modern Family - Still....

Blackish- preachy but wacky.

Movies: Moonlight – lovely, powerful and transfixing, the most worthwhile film of the year. Both this film and the other best film, Manchester by the Sea, are characterized by their examination of emotional constraint, and by their deep and specific sense of place: the ocean is key in each film.  

Moonlight

Manchester by the Sea – I just loved this sad, upliftingly depressing movie about how things happen that can never be made right.  Kenneth Lonergin has a distinct voice (see You Can Count on Me – another favorite of mine) Casey’s performance was specific and heartbreaking.  Extra points for Kyle Chandler and his FLN connection.  

Manchester by the Sea

Hell or High Water – excellent modern Western with traditional Western atmosphere of bleakness and destiny.  It portrays  a desolate, marginalized population who would rather support a bank robber than a bank, and sheds light on those who embrace Trump.  Jeff Bridges is, as always, fantastic. Arrival – abstract, metaphysical and poetic sci fi about language, communication and time.  A really unusual popular movie. Great Amy Adams. American Honey – teenage wasteland.  Is that Shia LaBoef acting like James Franco?  Captain Fantastic – intriguingly ambivalent.  Plaudits to Viggo Mortensen. A Bigger Splash – slick and sensual thriller where one character talks too much and one is silent.  Memorable Ralph Fiennes and Tilda Swinton.

                                                       *****

Hidden Figures – movie of the week template elevated by sterling execution and good intentions.  Usually good intentions are a negative for me, but this corny thing gets away with them.  Sully – Tom Hanks used to do swagger; now he excels in anxiety.

Love and Friendship – Jane Austen film without the usual stick up its ass.   La La Land – meta without irony.  I experienced this as a film about the issues in making a movie musical in 2016:  I thought it was quite cerebral.  I really did not get the heartwarming stuff.  And Ryan Gosling?  He was so cool and edgy in Half Nelson, an amazing performance.  When did he become so stiff?  Is it the cost of his working out?   Florence Foster Jenkins – better than you think Sing Street – charming and goofy.  Also better than you thought it would be,  especially for this afficianado of teen comedies and music.   Loving --  reserved and moving.  Another film that got away with good intentions. Fences – Great play, too stagey, too bloviating.  

Sasha Lane/American Honey

MUSIC Music from here, there and everywhere entered (and re-entered) my world this year.  

Josh Ritter – Sermon on the Rocks: When I heard these songs on WXPN this year, they just popped, especially “Birds of the Meadow” which always made me take note.  

“Sunshine Superman”:  The vastly underrated purveyor of the terminally hippy dippy, Donovan, wrote and sang this 60’s single of pure joy.  One of the things that makes Donovan so special is the inventive arrangements of his songs.  Just listen to the baseline.  And the same sunshine that “came softly through my window today” in this song was evident to Joni Mitchell who saw “the sun through yellow curtain lace” on her “Chelsea Morning,” and to the Vaselines “and the sun shines in the bedroom when you play” in “Son of a Gun,” two other songs of unadulterated hedonism.   Let’s also remember another single,  Donovan’s purest expression of hippy mindlessness and flower power, “Atlantis,” which always brings a smile I can’t wipe off my face no matter how hard I try. Performing “Atlantis” on TV in the 60s, midpoint through the song, Donovan whispered “Hail Atlantis” in his most wispy voice, and then stood up in his white Nehru gown, and started throwing blossoms. You gotta believe the 60s were sweet!  For Donovan’s tart musical antidote to this treacle, listen to the bad vibes made manifest in his “Season of the Witch.”  In fact, the entire Sunshine Superman album is well worth the listen.  If you like it, try Mellow Yellow next.  

Donovan

“Autumn Sweater”:  Yo La Tengo:  oh! Yo La Tengo! I’ve been loving their quiet covers album Stuff Like That There from 2015 all 2016, read a decent book about them, and been listening to their other albums, most notably I Hear Two Hearts Beating as One from whence comes “Autumn Sweater”:  Minimal sound, trance-like sensual beat, mysterious, obsessive lyrics, whispered vocal.  Over their long career, this band bit off a piece of Velvet Underground, added a dollop of 60s trash, and built the little band that could (how mixed is that metaphor?): has it been 30 years now of regularly released, lovely soft/ harsh excellent music?

Yo La Tengo

“Falling Rain”:  trance-like folk rock cover from Karl Blau that lasts 10 minutes but only seems like 6 minutes.  Loved it every time I heard it. 

  American Band by Drive-by Truckers –They play churning, passionate classic two (or three) guitar rock that splits the difference between those rivals Neil Young and Lynard Skynard, with sharper politics than either (but more limited melodic gifts.)  They’ve maintained consistently empathic songwriting for over 20 years and 11 studio albums, and, deeply affected by the current political turmoil going on in the USA, this piece may be their best yet.  From Treyvon Martin to Robin Williams.  Words of wisdom:  “Killing’s been the bullet’s business”; “You don’t see too many white kids lying bleeding in the street.”  

You Want it Darker -- Leonard Cohen: I don’t have to go through the list of those major music artists we’ve lost this year.  Though Bowie and Prince are undeniably giants, the two whose loss affected me most deeply are Merle Haggard and this man who left his profound, clear-eyed, stirring goodbye note.  It completed his extraordinary and singular life work, and listening to it is heartbreaking.  An earlier song by L. Cohen I’ve always loved is his epic about “Joan of Arc,” a stately waltz, making manifest his major theme: the confluence of sex, death and spirit.  This final album is its epitome. I treasure the three times I was able to see him perform.  

L.Cohen “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling”:  This song, that never really left, re-entered my consciousness through a radio interview and a book passage this year.  I loved it when I first heard it: I remember responding to its deep, echoed sound of profound sadness in November of 1964.  I’ve been thinking about what 13-year-old me made of its message of romantic despair and loss.   I realized that this song did not chiefly resonate with feelings of sadness I already had; it instead taught me one way of how to be sad in love that I took with me and held deeply.  I learned how to be depressed in a bad relationship from this song.  Art doesn’t only resound with our prior feelings, it provides emotional education.  

“Cigarettes and Alcohol” – Oasis: tuff “Bang a Gong (Get it On)” remake.

Patti Smith sings “A Hard Rain is Gonna Fall” at Bob Dylan’s Nobel Prize induction:  Dylan is great; since 1964 he’s been my hero; I adore him. One could make a case for Greatest Songwriter Ever!  He clearly extended the range of song to include literary influence -- Beat and Surrealist poetry chiefly -- like no one ever has done -- (I’ll have to check that statement out with my Classical Music friends.)  But I experience some melancholy at the choice because his victory denies the prize to my favorite contemporary writer, the richly deserving Philip Roth.  They are not going to award this to another American Jew for decades.  Patti’s genuine emotional presence and humility at the ceremony along with the songs current relevance add layers of complexity to this whole Nobel process. Incredible performance and incredible song. Hail, hail Bob, Patti and Philip!

  Books: Tess of the D’Urberville—a classic is a classic because it amazes.

Thomas Hardy

The Anatomy of a Song by Marc Myers -- Taken from his column for The Wall Street Journal, 45 songs from Lawdy Miss Clawdy to Losing My Religion are discussed through interviews with creators about how each song got to be.  Tidbits about songwriting inspiration are less interesting than the production details, but most of these allow you to hear the song in a new way, and to get some neat factoids.  I found it compulsively readable and it has stuck with me more than some of the other music books I read this year.  Fun! 

Taras Bulba – Gogol.  Yes, Taras Bulba.  Explains Putin (and Trump)

After Dark by Haruki Murakami -- elegant exploration of mediated reality.  Lovely in its unity of time. 

Last Night by James Salter -- Sharply written, stunning stories about adultery.

The Ghost Writer and Exit Ghost – Roth at his best.  Extraordinary complexity, passion and humor in two short page turners -- a book and its sequel -- separated by almost 30 years.   They book end Zuckerman’s story, and offer a prelude to Roth’s retirement. What tremendous place do these contemplative and impulsive men -- Nathan Zuckerman, Rabbit Angstrom (see John Updike) and Frank Bascomb (see Richard Ford) -- occupy in our time.

P. Roth