#first of all she’s the cookie cutter last girl in an event all about taking apart horror films

[butchratchettruther]

What the new reverse 1999 event has shown me is reverse 1999 are incapable of not including yuri in everything /pos. Five minutes in and Anne’s already like Blonney do you need anything done for you are you alright Blonney do you want a drink getting Blonney do you want to abandon these slasher homage dudes to die Blonney I’ll look after you

[kaywinchester]

Dark Power

@gracie-and-the-superwholock-gang asked: An angsty long-ff or series request, Sam daughter reader based off of the song In Control- by Nemesea.She was born before the event of the pilot. (like 17 months old by the pilot).So when Sam left her w/Jessica,Azazel did something to her before he killed Jess.She showed minor symptoms of powers and stuff up until the end of the Apocalypse arc.But then sometime when God(season14) came back or whenever you think is best for the story.Powers, darker self, fallow the song, accidentally hurts others

Word Count: 1,521

A/N: I will most likely end up turning this into a series because it sounds like an awesome plot (thanks for the request btw) but I hope I wrote it the way you pictured it lol :)

“You’re leaving. Just like that?” Jess asked Sam.

“Jess, it’ll only be til Monday.”

“What about Y/N?”

“She’ll be fine with you. Everything she needs is here, and I know you can handle her.” Sam said.

Y/N was Sam Winchester’s daughter. Sam was dating someone briefly during his senior year of high school. When his girlfriend at the time told him she was pregnant and was going to give up the baby, Sam had to make one of the most difficult decisions of his life. Either he could agree with the mother or take full custody of his child. It was not easy telling John or Dean. There was a lot of yelling and frustration that night, plus John didn’t agree with Sam going to college so there was a lot of tension between the two. But it all came down to Sam choosing to raise Y/N himself. For a while, he questioned his decision and wasn’t sure if he was ready. But when he held his newborn daughter for the first time and looked into her glistening green eyes, he knew he had chosen the right path. Sam promised himself he would do anything in his power to protect his little girl.

College was another obstacle Sam had to make a decision on. It was something he had wanted to do when he graduated high school. It was his opportunity to move away from the hunting life temporarily and pursue what he wanted to do. After lots of planning and thinking, Sam found a small apartment on campus that he could move into with Y/N. While Sam would attend classes in the morning, Y/N would stay with a sitter that lived nearby. Then, all afternoon and evening, Sam would be home studying and taking care of Y/N. Until he met Jess......

Sam was surprised a girl like Jess took interest in him, and he was worried she would change her mind when she found out he had a daughter. To his surprise, she stuck around. Jess moved in with Sam after six months and helped take care of Y/N. Their schedules lined up to where someone was always home with her. It was difficult at times but they made it work.

That’s when Dean came in. After a long time of not talking or visiting, Dean barged in unannounced that night. It scared the shit out of Sam in the process and pissed him off a little. Jess walked out into the living room and switched on the light.

“Sam?” She called out.

Sam and Dean stood in the middle of the room. Dean looked over and saw Jess holding a very sleepy looking Y/N. She had grown so much since the last time he saw her. Dean explained the whole situation with John, Sam was not happy to hear the news. He was just settling into his new life, he didn’t want to worry about hunting.

“Dean, I have Jess and Y/N, I can’t leave.” Sam said.

“Look, I have a few leads on dad. How bout we just go on with this for a few days. I’ll have you back by Monday.” Dean insisted.

“I don’t know, Dean. Dad is probably just caught up somewhere and isn’t checking his phone.” Sam explained.

“No. It’s different. I know it.” Dean told him.

Sam agreeed to help Dean, but it pained him to get back into his past, especially with his daughter in his life now.

“Promise you’ll be back by Monday?” Jess sighed.

“I promise.” Sam said as he kissed Jess’s forehead. He kissed Y/N’s tiny cheek. “I love you both. I’ll call you tomorrow morning, alright?” Sam reassured as he picked up his duffel bag and left.

...................

Sam sat in the passenger seat of the impala while Dean drove. It had been a while since he had sat on the leather seats of baby.

“How old is Y/N now?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.

“Eighteen months...... She’s starting to crawl a little bit.” Sam smiled to himself

“What do you think you’ll end up doing? I mean, after college. You gonna have that cookie cutter lifestyle? Eh? Maybe have a little garden in front of the house type stuff?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, Dean. I try not to think about it but, I know having the past that I do, with hunting and everything. I don’t know if I can get rid of that. I always wonder if I made the right decision with Y/N. What if I try to escape hunting and something ends up happening to her that I can’t control? It’ll be my fault. I just don’t want her to grow up scared all the time.” Sam explained.

“Well, she’s you’re kid. She’s a Winchester. Whatever happens, she’ll be strong....and she has a pretty cool dad. And uncle if I might add.” Dean smirked.

Meanwhile, back at home..... Jess was keeping Y/N entertained while getting ready for bed. Y/N was in her play pen with some toys around her. Jess had gone to clean up the bedroom a little bit.

The curtains started moving with the wind from the window. The lights in the room flickered slightly. Y/N looked around the room for Jess or Sam, but she was alone. A dark shadow figure appeared in the corner behind the door. Y/N spotted it and locked her eyes on it. The figure moved slowly from the corner to reveal a man, with yellow glowing eyes that stared at Y/N. She didn’t know who it was, but as far as her little brain knew, it looked like any other person. The man walked closer and kneeled down to her pen.

He reached out and placed his hand on Y/N’s head. She wriggled around a little bit when her eyes flashed and light emitted from her being. The man smirked and stepped back, the light subsided and Y/N looked up at the man with a look of shock. She started crying which alerted Jess.

The man walked over to the window and looked back at Y/N before disappearing into thin air. Jess walked back into the room and picked up the fussy child, placing her in her arms. Y/N stared at the window, too young to know what happened, and too young to know what was coming.

...................

It was Monday and Sam and Dean hadn’t found much on dad, but they did catch up with each other and got to re-live the hunting life for a few days.

“I really wish we could do this more often.” Dean sighed as he parked baby in front of Sam’s apartment.

“I know, but you know how it goes. You can’t just call it quits once you start on a hunting spree. It’s one or the other.” Sam stated.

“Take care.” Dean said as Sam grabbed his stuff from the back.

“I’m home!” Sam called out as he entered the apartment.

“In here!” Jess shouted from the other room.

Sam walked into the bedroom to see Y/N in her jumper. She smiled and giggled as he walked over to her.

“There’s my girl!” Sam cheered as he lifted her up into his arms. Jess was in the shower so Sam rested on the bed with Y/N on his chest.

He closed is eyes and took a deep breath, happy that he was home. All of a sudden, Sam felt something wet dripping down onto his forehead. He flinched and opened his eyes to see the worst thing he could possibly witness.

Jess was on the ceiling looking down at him. “Jessica!” Sam shouted as the ceiling burst into flames. Dean happened to be checking a lead on his phone in the car as he heard Sam shout. He flew up the flight of stairs into the burning apartment. Sam was standing in the room looking up at Jess while Y/N sat herself up on the bed screaming.

“Sam!” Dean shouted as he grabbed Y/N and pulled a resistant Sam out of the room.

The two of them rushed outside and looked up at the burning apartment. Dean looked over at Sam. His eyes glossed over as tears formed. Dean remembered back to the same night he had to carry Sam out of the house when his mom got caught in the fire. The same pain filled the air.

The fire department finally arrived and put out the flames. They asked Sam if there were any belongings he wanted them to grab, if they were still useable. He told them to grab any baby items that were still okay, and a few family items that he explained.

Sam was numb. It hadn’t hit him yet that Jess was dead. It all happened so fast. He could’ve put himself or Y/N in danger from his emotions. He wasn’t paying attention in the moment. Thank god for Dean. So many thoughts were going through his head. He didn’t know what he was going to do with himself, and Y/N especially.

All he knew was, something was out to get him and his daughter. And it was not a good sign.

Requests Are Closed

Read Part 2 HERE!

[chilling-seavey]

Seasons Change (d.s.) - ONE

↳  A/N This one already holds a special place in my heart and it has barely even begun! Might be a bit slower on updates because I want to make sure it’s perfect for us all. Thank you to @stuffofseaveyy for your unwavering help with plotting this storyline out, @randomlimelightxxx for your excitement and help, and of course, @jonahlovescoffee​ for being my hype girl and the best mayor’s wife anyone could ask for ;)

↳ Summary: Everyone knows everything about everyone in this small rural town in east Connecticut and the handsome single father who owns the farm down the main street seems to always be the talk of the town. Balancing the care of his acreage, raising his school-age son, and coaching the local boys’ hockey team keeps Daniel busy; but his mind never strays far from the expansive and vibrant flower gardens planted outside his farmhouse.

↳ Word Count: 2520

↳ Warnings: This story touches on topics such as loss of loved ones and grief. Nothing too detailed but read at your own discretion x

If you weren’t looking, you would miss it. An hour-and-a-half drive east of Hartford, Connecticut rested a small town that barely occupied more than an intersection of space in time. On your way east towards state lines, a rectangular green sign half covered by an oak tree would welcome you to Lincoln – Population: 200. You’d leave the town before you even realized you were in it if you weren’t paying attention but maybe that’s how the locals liked it.

People moved to Lincoln to get away from the bustle of the city…it was full of those people who had ‘let’s ditch this town’ mindsets and set down roots in a section of the world where they wouldn’t be bothered. It was the type of town that lived in the lyrics of a country song: picture perfect homegrown peace where everyone knew everyone and everyone had a place. It was easy to know everyone in a town like Lincoln. Driving in from the city you would pass a white paneled church, a few small single storey houses with lengthy driveways, the red trimmed general store, a brick sided restaurant, a run down and rusted mechanic’s shop, and catch a glimpse of the small community center just past the park before being enveloped by the nothingness that middle-of-nowhere Connecticut was known for.

Not much happened in Lincoln – at least nothing that was worth noting. Sometimes a car would break down and a city dweller in a designer suit would find his way to the general store to ask for assistance or, more often, a coyote would be rumoured to be roaming at night but that was the extent of the excitement. The most exciting thing to do outside of day to day work was play hockey and it seemed to be the town’s pride and joy of a pastime. There was no such thing as ‘hockey season’ as hockey season was year round in the small town of Lincoln, Connecticut. The community center housed an ice rink that could be melted down to a basketball court but everyone stayed for the hockey. The Lincoln Lighting Junior and Senior leagues were usually the talk of the town. The school-aged boys (ages 7-13) played for the juniors and the later teens and most of the fathers played for the senior league. The captain of the senior league was the coach of the juniors and he owned one of the few farms a few paces north of the main intersection.

A father of one and the best hockey player Lincoln had ever seen, Daniel Seavey was more than one could expect from a small town man.

He wasn’t your everyday potato farmer with uneven tan lines or a body that housed more beer than muscle and, in fact, he was the talk and the eye candy of the town. At only twenty-nine, Daniel was the best of the best in Lincoln: best hockey player, best coach, best farmer, best guitarist, best father; and he had the sandy brown hair and sky blue eyes of a heartbreaker to top it all. At six feet tall, Daniel was slim and handsome, and yet had the muscles capable of running a farm and shooting slapshots like you wouldn’t believe. Daniel was quiet and polite and he innocently humoured the wives of the town as they flirted with him in front of their unimpressed husbands.

But no one could be mad at Daniel. Not when he was the first and only widow Lincoln had ever seen.

Marigold Seavey was twenty-six when she died in her bed at their farmhouse in the early hours of the morning. Her passing was the first major event to ever shake the town of Lincoln. Everyone knew everyone in this town and, that being said, everyone knew what a sunshiny soul Marigold was. Daniel, especially, seemed to have his light burnt out once she was buried behind the church at the corner of town. Some of the folks in town will tell you that the saddest sight they had ever seen was Daniel standing at the foot of his wife’s grave after the funeral with his six-year-old son holding his hand and the two of them crying silent tears into the fresh fall soil.

Despite Daniel’s quiet persona, he was strong and he knew he had to be for the sake of his young son. He couldn’t wallow in his grief for long since he had a son to raise and a farm to tend to and the generosity of the townsfolk certainly helped him to stay on his feet after his wife passed.

It had been a year-and-a-half since Marigold died. Daniel had just turned twenty-nine as March moulded into April and the winter chill was starting to fade into spring and the second birthday without her wasn’t any easier. The birthday cake baked by his neighbour wasn’t as delicious as Marigold’s classic lemon cake she would make him every year but he politely thanked the woman and dared not complain. Daniel would never complain over the niceties of the townsfolk.

That’s what came with living in such a small town; everyone had everyone’s back.

It was the first Sunday of April and the first truly nice spring day of the year. With a crisp breeze in the air, it was only just warm enough to discard the winter jackets and most of the town was gathered in the large backyard of the mayor’s house for the usual after-church brunch. On the colder Sundays, brunch was held in the main restaurant but everyone preferred to gather in the fresh air and over the crisp green grass of the mayor’s house as soon as the weather permitted.

The mayor’s house was the largest and had the most land outside of the farms that were just north of the main intersection in town. Jonah – known by the locals as such since he didn’t like the formality that came with the title of ‘Mayor Frantzich’ – and his wife Jocelyn kept a pretty house on the edge of the little town. They could be what you call the ideal small town family with two kids, a dog, and white picket fence – enough backyard space for it to be the perfect spot for weekly brunch.

The town children had space to play and stretch their legs after sitting for an hour in church and the yard was filled with the shouts from their games. The adults lingered around the yard in various little circles, nursing freshly squeezed orange juice in spring-themed clear plastic cups and talking amongst themselves.

Daniel did a lot of listening during Sunday brunches, standing amidst one of the groups of parents as they talked about school, clubs, and work. Marigold was always the chatty one of the two of them…without her, Daniel felt out of place.

“What about you, Daniel? Think the frost will be gone to break ground this week?”

Jack spoke first, a shorter man with unruly brown hair and enough tattoos to surprise anyone with the fact that he raised an apple orchard. He owned the farm beside Daniel’s and was one of his closest friends in the town.

Daniel thought for a moment and scuffed the toe of his dress shoe against the grass. The cold ground was still pretty solid and the chill in the air still had them all wearing blazers over their Sunday button-ups.

“Only if this cold front lets up.” Daniel answered. “I’m hoping to plough by next week at the latest.”

“Everything’s been going well with the farm and your boy?” Jonah asked, his hand tucked around his wife’s waist and he raised his opposite hand to his mouth to sip his juice.

Daniel shifted on his feet and gave a shrug, his eyes drifting past the group of parents to easily pick out his shaggy haired brunette son across the yard with the rest of the kids. At almost eight-years-old, Lennox was the light of Daniel’s life; his little hockey star, helping hand, and the one whom his late wife’s smile and spirit lived on in. It had been a hard year-and-a-half for the two Seavey boys but Daniel was relived that he could hear his son laugh again, his audible glee reaching to the far edges of the mayor’s property and to his father’s ears.  

“It’s been…fine.” Daniel sighed, his eyes lingering on his son as he answered Jonah’s question, “Lennox has been doing well…his grades are better this year which I’m relieved about. I just…I already sold the sheep and half the chickens and the second cow last spring to try and tame some of the workload but it’s still a lot.”

“Running a farm on your own isn’t easy.” Jack said, “I know how much work it takes for two owners let alone one.”

“We’re here to help with whatever you need.” Corbyn assured him. “I can give you deals on whatever you need from the shop as often as I can.”

Corbyn owned the general store in the center of town and was the bachelor of Lincoln. It wasn’t like there were any women to date in such a small place full of cookie cutter rural families but Corbyn was very happy as he was: running the store and being the eyes and ears of the town.

Daniel shut down his generous offer politely as he looked back to his friends, “No, no. I don’t want that…thank you though. I’m just worried the garden will suffer. With so much to do with ploughing and planting and coaching…I don’t know how much time I’ll have for the flowers.” Daniel let his gaze drift back to his son playing across the grass, “Lennox is too young to tend to them himself but he loves the gardens so much so I don’t want yet another thing to disappoint him.”

“Have you thought of hiring someone?” Jonah asked.

“Like a gardener?” Daniel hummed, “I dunno.”

Corbyn sipped his drink, “Is it in the budget?”

“I think so.” Daniel shrugged, swirling his orange juice in his hand. “Never thought about it. Mari always took care of the flowers so…”

“I have a family friend who’s pretty good with gardens…I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help out.” Jocelyn offered.

Daniel chuckled under his breath, “That’s…a nice offer but I’m not looking to put anyone out of their way. They’re just flowers after all.”

But everyone knew that they weren’t just flowers to Daniel. They were Marigold’s flowers.

Jack tisked at Daniel’s hesitation, “Well if it’s in your budget to hire a gardener and you know the gardens are important to Lennox and yourself, then why not give it a try? You don’t have anything to lose.”

Jonah only added onto the argument, “She’s been wanting to come visit Lincoln for a while now. Why don’t we invite her to town and she can stay with us and you can give her a look over…if you think you want to hire her then you can.”

Daniel thought about it for a moment, taking a sip of his juice as his eyes found his son again. It was habit. Lennox was already running for him at top speed across the grass and Daniel set his cup down on the table just in time to welcome his seven-year-old’s energetic jump at him. He scooped him up with one arm and a tired grunt as he hiked him up onto his waist and Lennox held onto him around his neck, giggling as the other kids ran over after him.

“Daddy’s safe. You can’t get me.” Lennox told them matter-of-factly.

Daniel smiled proudly and linked his hands under his son’s bum to hold him up securely. At almost eight, Lennox was a bit heavy to hold but after nine years of farm work and working out for hockey, it wasn’t much of an issue for Daniel to hold him. He’d never complain regardless.

The other kids found their parents, gladly taking sips of juice or pieces of cut up fruit after a tiring chase around the yard. Jonah and Jocelyn’s seven-year-old twins found their way between them and helped themselves to the few snacks on the table. They were the closest to Lennox’s age – although a few months younger – and the boy of the set of fraternal twins was on the junior hockey team with him.

With the parents busy for a moment with their children – Jack was helping to fasten his daughter’s curly hair back in her headband – Daniel pondered the previous offer. His son rested his head against his with his small arms slung around his neck and Daniel could feel each of his gentle breaths rising and falling his chest. Everything Daniel did was for Lennox. He bit his lip.

“No rush.” Jocelyn said to him, reassuring their offer as if she could see his hesitation, “Just let us know.”

“Thank you.” Daniel said honestly.

“The Herron’s are coming over.” Corbyn whispered to the group and right away they shifted awkwardly as the family approached. Daniel let out an anticipatory sigh.

If you ever thought of jealousy, you would think of Zach Herron; father of two boys who weren’t very good at hockey and husband to a wife whose eyes liked to linger on Daniel’s biceps a little too much. Zach envied a lot of Daniel…maybe even envied him that his wife was dead. He would never admit that out loud though.

“Seavey.” Zach greeted as his family approached the group with his petite platinum blonde wife on his arm. He glanced around to the others, “And friends.”

There was a dull chorus of replies.

Zach continued, “I’m still willing to buy your horses off you. You know I have a generous price to offer.” 

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Yes, I know. But the horses are not for sale and they never will be.”

“Daniel would sell his house before he sells those horses.” Jack said. The group laughed lightly at the truth behind that. 

Lennox wiggled from Daniel’s arms and he set him down to join up with the two Herron boys who had just come over. The children gathered together at the other side of the table and chatted excitedly. Daniel picked up his orange juice.

“Daniel,” Zach’s wife set a hand on his bicep, her face filled with nothing but dramatic concern, “how are you holding up?”

“I’m doing fine, Katie, thank you.” Daniel replied politely.

She sighed, “It would just be a terrible shame to see your beautiful gardens go to waste; I overheard you talking about it from over there. Please let me know if I can help in any way.”

Zach’s annoyed scoff had Jack smirking into his orange juice. Corbyn and Jonah exchanged amused glances between themselves. Daniel offered Zach’s wife a small polite smile.

“That’s very nice of you to offer, but Jonah and Jocelyn already offered a family friend who’s in the business.” Daniel looked over at the couple again, with slight thankfulness in his eyes, “And I think I will gladly take them up on that recommendation.”

Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @midnightpsychic @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

Please click the link in my bio to be added to the taglist!

[amanda-glassen]

The Wonder Years: Ch.2

Part of @svuappreciation #WSVU Week Day 1: Getting ready for a party. While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be. Sequel to this post 

Olivia loved the outfit she and her mom had picked out, but when she looked in the mirror the next morning, there was still one thing she wanted to change about herself－her hair. Olivia’s shoulder length hair was usually in a ponytail for the purpose of keeping it out of her way when she played sports, but that morning, she realized she wanted a change. She wanted to have her hair neatly cropped like Jamie’s－her mom’s new girlfriend. Olivia had met her two weeks ago when their relationship became official and, although she wasn’t into sports or anything else Olivia was interested in, she made her mom happy and, if her mom liked her, Olivia wanted to give her a chance. 

What she found intriguing was that Jamie didn’t wear dresses and heels and makeup like her mom. She wore ties and vests when they went out on dates and her mom used words like ‘handsome’ and ‘debonair’ to describe her to her friends instead of ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’ and, when she looked at her hair in the mirror that morning, she realized she wanted to be handsome and debonair, too. Maybe not debonair after all, Olivia thought. I did run away when Alex flirted with me for the first time. 

Three hours later, Olivia found herself sitting in a chair at a barbershop that Jamie worked at. It was upscale, but made to look rustic, and most of the employees and the patrons were twenty-something and thirty-something hipsters with beards and flannel shirts. Jamie and Olivia were two of only three females there, but Olivia loved the vibe and the way she was made to feel like she fit in. 

“I want my hair like yours,” Olivia told Jamie once she sat down in the chair. Jamie’s hair was neatly cut into a classic side part haircut and Olivia knew it was the look for her.

With every inch of her hair that was cut, Olivia felt like she was becoming who she was always meant to be. She didn’t have to feel confused anymore or worry about why she didn’t fit into the cookie cutter expectation of what a girl should be. Olivia Margaret Benson could now define her identity on her own terms.

As soon as Jamie was finished, Olivia walked over to the chairs in the waiting area to show her mom. “Mom, how do I look?”

Serena nearly gasped when she saw her daughter. “Come closer so I can get a better look at you.” She began to touch her daughter’s newly cropped hair. “You little Cassanova. Look at you!  I’m not letting you go out tonight. I don’t want Alex and every other girl at the dance to fall in love with you and steal you away from me.”

“Mom!” Olivia giggled. “I look okay?”

“Very handsome,” Serena responded. She playfully kissed her daughter’s cheek and Olivia giggled again as she tried to wipe off the red lipstick print that her mom had left on her cheek.

“Mom, not in front of the guys,” Olivia said while she looked around to make sure no one was watching.

“I’m not letting you wash that lipstick off,” Serena teased. “I’m going to make sure it stays on your cheek to deter Alex from kissing you there.”

Olivia smirked. “She’ll just kiss me on the lips.”

“Ollie!” Serena’s eyes grew wide. “That’s it. No dating until you’re twenty.”

Olivia noticed Jamie walking over with a face wipe in hand. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“Here, kid,” she said as she handed it to Olivia. “I keep these at my station because your mom has a tendency to mark her territory. Just be grateful she didn’t wear her burgundy lipstick. That stuff stained my cheek for the rest of the day. But, Ollie, I’ll be over in a couple of hours to help you get ready for tonight. I have some gifts for you, too.”

“Really?” Olivia asked. “Thanks!” Under normal circumstances, only her mom would be able to get away with calling her Ollie, but since gifts were involved, she figured one more person calling her Ollie couldn’t hurt.

As soon as she got home, Olivia scarfed down a frozen pizza for dinner despite her mom offering to make something much healthier. “Frozen pizza gives me energy,” Olivia told her. “And now that there’s less than ninety minutes until it’s time to leave, I need all the energy I can get.”

While her daughter was eating, Serena began to iron Olivia’s outfit, mainly because she didn’t trust her twelve-year-old’s ironing skills before such an important event in her life. 

“Mom! I’ll get it!” Olivia called out when she heard a knock at their door. It’s Jamie with my gifts! Olivia opened the door to find Jamie holding a dozen roses and she tried unsuccessfully to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she figured that might be her gift. 

“Relax, kid,” Jamie laughed. “Only one of these is for you. Eleven are for me to give to my woman and one is for you to give to yours.”

“...girls really like this sort of thing?” Olivia asked as she examined the perfect red rose Jamie had handed to her. 

“A single red rose is one of the most romantic things you can give your girlfriend,” Jamie pointed out. 

“Then why eleven for my mom?”

“Because eleven months ago today, I had my first date with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Jamie smiled at her.

Olivia gave her a confused look. “You started dating her eleven months ago and she barely became your girlfriend two weeks ago. What took so long?”

Jamie tousled Olivia’s hair. “You of all people should know that you can’t tell Serena Benson what to do. If it were up to me, she would have become my girlfriend the day I met her, but I wanted to wait until she was ready. Even if I had to wait years, your mom is worth the wait.”

“Was I supposed to hear that?” Serena asked when she entered the living room. She had changed into a somewhat short black sweater dress and black stilettos with a 4 inch heel. How anyone could walk in those was beyond Olivia and she could imagine herself falling the moment she took her first step. I’d probably look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk. 

“You look incredible.” Olivia noticed Jamie get up and make her way over to her mom. Do not kiss my mom. Much to Olivia’s chagrin, she did kiss her and even if it was a chaste kiss it made her mom smile in a way that Olivia had never seen her smile before and she was practically beaming when Jamie gave her the flowers. I still don’t want to see anyone kissing my mommy, though.

Olivia made a mental note to compliment Alex’s appearance and give her the rose. I guess girls really do go for that sort of thing. I wonder what else Jamie can teach me.

“Ollie, go get dressed,” Serena urged her. “We have to leave in an hour.”

Olivia groaned. “It doesn’t take an hour to put on pants and a shirt. The game is about to start.”

"Ollie!" Serena gritted her teeth. "Go get dressed."

"Oh, I get it," Olivia tried and failed to wink. "Get rid of the kid so you can kiss."

"No," Serena responded. She held out her hands to help her reluctant daughter off the couch despite the fact that Olivia would miss the first pitch of the Mets game. "I'm getting rid of my kid because she volunteered me to drive her and her girlfriend to the dance without telling me until today and I don't want Mrs. Cabot judging me for being late. I saw her at the parent/teacher conferences last trimester. The woman is...judgy."

"Judgy?" Jamie laughed. "Judgy says the Ivy League English professor. I know you're 10 or 15 years younger than the other moms but you're 33 and 33 is not a child, Serena."

"You're only saying that because you've yet to see Mrs. Cabot's 'you're an irresponsible Millennial' look," Serena responded, finally able to get Olivia off of the couch and away from the Mets game. "She looks you up and down as if she is judging every little detail of your appearance, smirks, and then looks you up and down again."

"Maybe she's just checking you out," Jamie shrugged. "Ever think of that?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Serena gently tugged Olivia’s arm. "Come on, Ollie."

Putting her outfit on took less than two minutes, so Olivia wondered why her mom made her get ready so early until she remembered that Jamie had some more gifts for her, one of which was a product for her hair. They were soon standing in front of the vanity mirror in her mom’s bedroom and Olivia was about to begin her first lesson. “This is my favorite pomade,” Jamie told her. “Your girl is gonna love the way it looks on you, kid.”

“Hopefully not too much,” Serena cut in. “She’s still my little Ollie.”

“Babe, your little Ollie has a date to get ready for,” Jamie reminded her. Olivia didn’t exactly approve of anyone calling her mom ‘babe,’ but she was eager for Jamie’s lesson to begin so she could look good for Alex. “Okay, kid, get a dime sized amount on your fingers and rub them together to get it all over your fingertips. We’re gonna keep your hair parted on the side just the way it is, but now we’re gonna slick this front part back and the side down. Move your fingers from just near the roots all the way to the tips and then use the palm of your hand to smooth your hair back.” 

Olivia tried to mimic Jamie’s motions but she wasn’t pleased with the end result. “Why didn’t mine come out as good as yours?”

“I’ve had years of practice, kid,” Jamie said as she fixed Olivia’s hair. “It’ll become second nature before you know it and when you run out of this stuff let me know and I’ll get you some more.”

“Thanks, Jamie,” Olivia responded while she admired her new hairstyle in the mirror. 

“Next is your cologne. What do you usually wear?”

“A gummy bear scented body spray,” Olivia said sheepishly. 

“Hey, don’t be shy about that,” Jamie said as she placed her hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “That’s fine to wear for school or when you’re hanging out with your friends. I have an everyday body spray, too, and then cologne that I wear for more special occasions like when I take your mom out on a date.” She turned to face Serena. “Babe, can you get the cologne from my overnight bag?” Overnight bag? She’s staying overnight and calling my mom ‘babe’ again? But if my mom is happy then I guess she’s okay.

Serena handed Olivia the small bottle of Abercrombie & Fitch cologne that Jamie had purchased for her. “I don’t approve of you wearing anything other than your gummy bear spray,” Serena told her. “But I’m willing to let it slide for tonight.”

“Mom,” Olivia groaned. “Can we please let Jamie work her magic here?”

“Magic?” Serena tried not to laugh. “Don’t let me stand in the way of the magic woman herself.”

“I managed to get the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Jamie reminded her. “That means I must have done something right.” That statement earned Jamie a few kisses, so Olivia decided to make a mental note. Compliments lead to kisses, so be sure to compliment Alex the entire night. What am I saying? I’ll probably faint if she kisses me.

“Okay, Ollie, spritz some of the cologne on yourself here and here,” Jamie said as she pointed to her neck and wrists. “Remember a little goes a long way. You don’t want your girl to start choking when she’s near you. This was my favorite when I was your age and I think you’ll like it, too.”

Olivia spritzed a small amount just as Jamie had instructed her. It smelled somewhat woodsy and very masculine and Olivia had a feeling Alex was going to love it on her.

“Your turn, Serena,” Olivia heard Jamie say.

“What do you mean?” Olivia asked worriedly. 

“Relax, kid,” Jamie laughed. “Now it’s your mom’s turn to work her magic with the styling. She styles me all the time. I don’t know how but most girly girls are experts with sleeves and ties. You should let Alex cuff your sleeves before your next date.”

“Okay, I have two problems with what you said,” Serena began. “One, I’m a grown woman and not a girly girly and, two, can you stop trying to turn my Olliegator into some kind of stud like you? She’s still my baby.”

“I think she’s Alex’s now,” Jamie teased, although her girlfriend was less than amused.

Olivia stood in front of her mom while she styled her long sleeves into ¾ sleeves and tied her tie. It was a more intricate process than Olivia imagined, but her mom’s delicate touch made it all seem so easy. Once her tie was tucked in under her vest, Olivia noticed her mom’s big brown eyes welling with tears.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, reaching out to touch Olivia’s cheek. “You just look so handsome, Ollie, and so grown up. I feel like just yesterday you were wanting me to cuddle you and now you’re going on your first date. It’s all happening so fast.”

Olivia gave her mom a kiss on the cheek. “Alex is my girlfriend, but I’ll always be your Ollie and I’ll always love you more than anyone else in the whole world.”

“I love you so much, darling,” Serena said softly. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to hug Olivia without wrinkling her shirt, but she tried to anyway. “I want you to enjoy yourself. Jamie is going to keep me company so I’m not a nervous wreck, and then when you get home tonight, I want you to tell me that you had the best night of your life because you deserve it, Ollie. You’re such a sweet kid and you deserve so many good things to happen to you.”

The drive to Alex’s house felt like an eternity for Olivia, especially with her mom’s playlist of ‘00s pop music playing throughout the entire drive. When Jamie pulled into the Cabot’s driveway, a pep talk felt appropriate. “You’ve got this, kid,” she said to Olivia who was nervously clutching the stem of the rose she was going to give to her girlfriend. “Alex is gonna love your new look.” Jamie then kissed Serena’s hand. “And babe, try to play nice with Mrs. Cabot.”

[tonystarkbingo]

3 Prompt Summaries Game

reunions, masks, body worship - suggested by @polizwrites

@polizwrites - Now that Rhodey was full time military, Tony hadn’t seen him  in months.  They  made plans to meet up in Key West  during Fantasy Fest  —  wearing masks (and very little else), they could finally indulge  their own fantasy of being a couple in public.

@psychiccatpanda - Rhodey took the kids trick-or-treating on his own because Tony had been called away on business again.  When they get back, Tony's home and has set the place up for a Halloween party for the kids and their friends. When the kids' friends go home and the lights go down, Rhodey takes his time welcoming his husband home.

@somesortofitalianroast - It was 5 years since Steve Rogers had last seen Bucky Barnes, when Barnes left in the middle of the night after they had sex for the first time, leaving the country the next day for a lucrative job, and Steve heartbroken. It had been several years since Steve had thought of Barnes, though he’d recognize the man anywhere, even behind a domino mask at a masquerade ball. Just seeing Barnes made his blood boil, and he wanted to charge across the ballroom, slap the man silly, and then worship every inch of the man’s body. Too bad he was at the ball with clients and there was no way he could do that without losing a very important contract.

@darthbloodorange - (ShrunkyClunks) - He waits in the shadows of an old warehouse, a mask obscuring his identity. No one could know he was here; not only would his reputation be tarnished, but that of the Avengers as their leader. But there was something about the dark assassin that drew him in. Barnes treated him like no other in this world. Treasured him, possessed him, worshipped him. Not like a hero as the world did, but as a man and lover.

Keep reading for lots more!

cookies, mermaid, dancing - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@somesortofitalianroast - Darcy didn’t bake for the Avengers all the time, and she never made her mermaid cookies, since they were complicated and she needed to pay attention to the details when icing them with fancy icing. So it was a big deal when she made them, the sort of thing that made you want to dance in the kitchen.

@gavilansblog - Luca AU where Tony introduces mer-people Steve and Bucky to cookies and dancing

@deehellcat - Morgan's eighth birthday party featured a mermaid theme, cookies with sparkly decorations, and dancing.

@psychiccatpanda - Bucky Barnes never dreamed he'd ever be put in charge of kids.  Who'd want the Winter Soldier for a babysitter?  But this little girl - Tony Stark's little girl - stared up at him, waiting for a reply.

He was pretty sure the last time he'd been this nervous was when he came back to the States after Wakanda.  "Yeah, we can do that.  Sounds like fun."

Which was how he found himself not-quite elbows deep in blue-green frosting for the ocean reef cookies they had baked (that he had baked) while Morgan spun around the kitchen dancing in her mermaid costume.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony looks at the tray of raw cookies in dismay. Whoever had designed the mermaid cookie cutter clearly had no concept of the baking skill of the average parent. 

He had managed to press out all the pictures without causing more damage than the occasional lost arm or misshapen head (and a couple of 'defective' cookies are always required for taste-testing straight out of the oven). But the process of transferring the cookies from the bench to the tray had caused the raw dough to stretch and fold and tear; leaving figures better described as some sort of vaguely-humanoid aquatic eldritch horror... 

Impatient, Morgan clambers onto her stool and gasps in delight. "Look, Daddy! The mermaids are dancing!"

@darthbloodorange - (Thundershield) - Thor set out on his boat to the middle of the lake. A smile on his face and a song on his lips. People feared the lake and the creatures that dwelled within. He didn't see why. Peering over the edge of the boat, he watched the mermaids dance. His eyes drawn to one in particular; the blond with the silvery-blue tail. He unwraps the cookies and sets them on the edge of his boat, hoping to draw the merman close again.

picnic, dragon, promises - suggested by @psychiccatpanda

@deehellcat - Steve and Bucky slip away from the village every chance they get to spend time together. Their favorite place to picnic is perilously close to a rumored dragon's lair, but they dare it for its beauty. imagine their surprise when one night as they stargaze and promise forever to each other, a dark shadow flies overhead then lands nearby. It's the legendary dragon, who greets them and offers to witness their solemn vows. (spoiler alert, the dragon is Tony, and I'm not sure what his relationship to them would end up being.)

@psychiccatpanda - Tony hated picnics.  He'd been on so many for photo shoots with his mom and Howard, then for Stark Industries, and the occasional summer charity event.  Picnics sucked.  There was either too much sun or not enough, not to mention bugs, screaming kids, or other couples making out. 

"You promised, Tony," the love of his life reminded him.  "And I got you a surprise." The surprise was a kite in the shape of a dragon. Suddenly, the day was looking better.

@somesortofitalianroast - Steve was walking to a picnic on the beach when he found a baby dragon, abandoned on the side of the road. He picked it up, intending to take it to the local fantasy animal shelter, but as soon as he touched it, he knew he would never be able to let it go. Which is why he was standing on the dunes, murmuring promises to the dragon in his arms.

@rebelmeg -  pepper sighed.  "tony, you promised you were gonna stop doing that." pointedly looking away from her, the red and gold dragon roughly the size of a large dog pointedly opened his mouth, and stuffed the donut hooked on his claw inside.  puffs of smoke emitted from his nostrils and he chuckled in a rough, growly way when a sandwich in a baggie smacked him in the back of the head. 

"we're never going on a picnic when you're shifted again, this is ridiculous."

@darthbloodorange - (Stucky, Fantasy AU) - Steve walks up to the den of the dragon; his once best friend and lover. Baskets of meat in hand, and his heart weighted heavily in his chest. He'd kept his promise for over 70 years, and he wasn't about to break it now. "Bucky, it's me. I know you remember me. You're in there somewhere, I feel it," he says in his elvish tongue. Within the den comes a mighty roar, seeming to shake the very core of the mountain. But Steve is not dissuaded.

bread, defenestration, jingle - suggested by @rebelmeg

@rebelmeg - standing at the window and very calmly eating her sandwich, natasha watched as clint climbed out of the bushes underneath and went streaking for the street, where an ice cream truck was driving past.  the second he'd heard the jingly song, the idiot had flung his own sandwich in the air and literally dove out the window.  wondering if he'd realize he didn't have any money on him, nat smirked.

@psychiccatpanda - (WinterIronHawk implied) To be fair, Clint had not thought about 'costume integrity' or the fact that the Christmas elf pajamas did not count for much in the way of bodily protection.  On the other hand, though, he'd just been planning on eating as much of the freshly baked panettone bread as Bucky let him get away with while they waited for Tony to get home.  Getting thrown through the  window of Tony's Malibu house by some Hydra experiment had not been on his radar at all. (Not Bucky - to be completely clear, he was cute and Clint didn't think mean things about people who baked him a nigh-endless quantity of sweets.)  At least he managed to keep the hat with its little bell that jingled cheerfully as Clint sailed through the air.

@darthbloodorange - Stony (probably a 5+1 fic) - Tony frowns as the familiar jingle of his phone drew him away from kneading his sourdough. He groans when he sees who it was that was calling. He nearly doesn't answer, but Barnes almost never calls, so curiosity gets the better of him. "Stark," the man greets, voice as gruff as ever. "What do you want?" he grumbles. "Arm's acting up again. Accidently threw your husband out a window. He's hanging on about the 26th floor? Thought you should know." "Damn it!" Tony cries, armour assembling around him quickly. He wishes this was the first time Barnes' arm had thrown an Avenger out the window... but it wasn't.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony likes bread as much as the next guy, but he is this close to swearing off the stuff entirely. He tenses as Clint moves behind him, his humming looping into yet another round of the jingle for the local bakery. He snaps. "Clint! If I hear another note I swear I will throw you out this window! And not send the suit after you." Clint grins, opens his mouth and... shuts it again. Silent.

Werewolves, Gardening, Hurt/Comfort - suggested by @darthbloodorange​

@somesortofitalianroast - (preserum!steve/werewolf!bucky) When he moved into the house, Steve was looking forward to growing a garden, with a large vegetable patch, all the herbs, and some flowers for the colors. He wasn’t expecting to get overheated. He certainly wasn’t expecting the werewolf to bound out of the woods to take care of him. He’d think he imagined the entire thing, except the werewolf stuck around. Still taking care of him.

@tehroserose - Steve and Tony had retreated into the woods. Obadiah had taken over Tony's birthright, and Hydra had encroached on Steve's home of Brooklyn. They met there, and lived off their wits. Tony did most of the smithing for the various exiles, while Steve gardened vegetables that were rare and valuable. They were content, and while they wished they could save their homelands, there was no real hope of doing so. No hope until one night, when Steve was doing one last check of the garden before going to sleep, he found a big, bleeding wolf.

@rebelmeg - "right here, honey," pepper pointed to a spot in the dirt, and tony padded over, pawing at the spot a few times before starting to dig.  "yep, that's enough." she stopped him when the hole was deep enough, then held out a hand for the flower morgan had cupped in her hands, cradling the ball of roots and dirt with care.  "see, now it's perfect!  you wanna take a ride on daddy now, morgan?  i  think he's getting bored with gardening."

"yeah!"  morgan jumped up with a shout, and scrambled up onto the werewolf's back with no problems.  "go, daddy, go!" with a woof, tony took off at a run, morgan holding tight to his fur as she giggled, and pepper smiled as she watched them.  tony hated going through a transformation during the full moon, the pain of it pretty extreme, but they'd found a lot of ways to make up for it.

@psychiccatpanda - Tony had avoided Barnes since Steve had brought him to the compound.  The werewolf had done the same.  Howard hadn't had anything good to say about weres in general, but everyone knew wolves were the worst.  It was part of the reason that part of the Avengers had been politely asked to leave Wakanda.  Opening the door to his patio, Tony caught the shine of eyes and Barnes scrambled back from what he'd been doing.  Tony scanned the patio and only saw a trowel, some loose dirt, and a flat of plants - wolfsbane. "Doesn't that stuff give you blisters or something?" Tony asked, knowing that it was probably true.  "How about you come in and wash your hands and tell me what you're up to."

@darthbloodorange - (Ults Stony) - After Steve is infected with Lycanthropy, Tony took him to one of his parents' houses out in the country. Everyone expected Steve would get over it, given time, as he did with the vampirism. But the lycanthropy sticks, appearing to have fused with the serum. While SHIELD's scientists look into a cure, Tony stays with Steve. Growing bored of the overly-manicured, emptiness that was the green fields surrounding the country house, Steve takes up gardening as his current mission. Tony watches, completely enthralled, as Steve slowly transforms the area around the house.

letter, basket, book - suggested by @rebelmeg

@jamesbuckystark - Someone left a basket on Tony's doorstep containing a book, a map, and a magnifying glass. Inside the book was a letter dated 1942. He's curious to find out what this means

@tehroserose - Morgan put down the letter. It was the last one. Her father had written her one for every birthday and potential special occasion. This one was for when she became a mother. She couldn't have them hidden away, they were on a basket on her dresser in her room, but that didn't make them any less bittersweet. He left her behind. To save the world, but he had left her. 

 She went to sit in the rocking chair next to her child's crib and began to read the children's story her mother had allowed all those years ago. "Iron Man and the End of Thanos". Any children she had would know their grandfather.

@somesortofitalianroast - When Bucky decided to become a librarian, he thought it would give him access to all the books all the time, in exchange for maybe some shelving. He didn’t realize how much work went into collections development and management, nor how much time was spent looking books up for patrons on their own system when asked if the library had a particular book. Boring and frustrating. He just had to stick it out until he paid off the worst of his student loans. Until the day the letter arrived on his desk, sitting next to a gift basket from a local fancy food store. A letter letting him know that the gift basket was from his secret admirer.

@jacarandabanyan - After waking from the ice, Steve took to reading voraciously to catch up on what he'd missed. Despite Tony's offers, he never did come around to a screen reader, though, and instead opted to keep a pile of books on his bedside table. When the pile of books got too big, he had a whicker basket to put the overflow in. 

 Tony feels like the two of them can't have a conversation outside the heat of battle without devolving into arguments and personal attacks, so he takes to slipping notes into Steve's books. Over time, the notes get longer and longer, until it would be more proper to call them letters than notes.

@rebelmeg - tiny!tony is digging through a basket of new books the jarvises got him, a mix of kids books and textbooks and novels.  as he digs, one of the books falls open, and out falls an envelope.  the letter inside seems to be written in code... but he's also pretty sure that's his mama's handwriting.  a grin spreading across his face, he sits down next to the basket and starts working out the code.

@darthbloodorange - (Stucky? Witch/Fantasy AU?) - Steve sits in his chair by the window and opens his favourite book. With careful hands, he pulls out the letter from his mother, which he'd been using as a bookmark, and carries on where he'd left off. Library, his familiar, jumps from her basket into his lap and curls up, butting her head against his hands. Despite the warmth and happiness he felt here, it wasn't complete. A part will always be missing until Bucky returns.

@psychiccatpanda - Whoever had suggested they stay at this rickety, 'quaint' seaside hotel had apparently never seen any island murder movies ever, Tony thought with disgust.  The wood floors creaked and the building made weird noises at night.  Combined with the crashing waves, it was not what Tony called relaxing.  Somebody knocked and Tony assumed it was the room service snack he'd ordered.  Instead, he found a basket with a book tucked inside.  Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None.

"That's not ominous," Tony muttered to himself, flipping through the pages. Then he saw the letter tucked inside.

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

maybe you were the ocean, when i was just a stone (7/?)

-

xix: i waste my time, friday nights, getting ready

-

Another Tuesday comes and goes -

Hayley appreciates being on land more and more. Rebekah introduces her to music - the sounds please her ears, make her body do this weird thing uncontrollably. Dancing, Rebekah calls it, one of the greatest joys of being human.

Elijah and Finn introduce her to dairy products - cheese, milk, yogurt, Hayley adores it all. She thought she’d be more disgusted by the idea of digesting another animal’s milk but, god, chocolate caramel pudding was just too darn good to pass up.

Kol catches her - mouth covered in sweets. She observes him looking at her lips, she recalls their almost kiss and notices how quickly he shifts his gaze away from her.

She wanted to kiss him, as weird as it sounds. She blames Ursula’s spell, one lousy kiss was all she needed and this damned spell would break and her voice would come back. Even if it’s not the most honest kiss, it could still count right?

If she weren’t so shy and meek, she’d plant one on him herself.

-

Kol curses himself for watching her while she ate dessert. What a creepy thing to do, he thinks. He’s supposed to only pretend to like her, not actually like her! And to think he tried to kiss her the other day - she’s the one who smiles like the sun. Who swims like a mermaid. Who looks at Niklaus with stars in her eyes.

Right.

She’s not interested in him.

Why would she be anyway?

For the first time, Kol doesn’t feel too confident in himself.

-

-

-

xx: and try recreate the first date that you met me

-

It’s been a while since Mikael has come home this early from work.

Esther is eagerly waiting for him in their bedroom - she watches him stammer around and sometimes, in the smallest moments, she swears she sees hints of the man he used to be.

The one she fell in love with.

“Will you stay, tonight?” She asks - noting that they have not slept in the same bed in years.

He looks over his shoulder, preparing his things for the guest room. “I can’t stand it,” Mikael spits. “Lying next to you, I just think of how another man has touched you, how another man has been with you.”

Esther flinches, putting her head down as she thinks of Ansel. “That was a long time ago,” she notes. “I’ve apologized endlessly for my transgressions, and you haven’t forgiven me since. You even take your anger out on the children - they haven’t done a thing.” She insists as she reaches for his arm.

Still upset, Mikael jerks her hand away. “If you hadn’t brought that boy,” he starts again, remembering how Esther had tried to pass along Klaus as one of Mikael’s children. “It wouldn’t be so hard to forget,” He adds on. “His face, every time I see it, I just think of your betrayal - “

“Niklaus has done nothing wrong-“

“Do not speak his name,” Mikael warns, looming over his wife. “As long as I live, rest assured, you and that boy will never know any peace.”

He grabs the rest of his belongings and disappears, leaving Esther to sob quietly into the night.

-

Klaus’ been feeling a bit lonely lately.

When he was younger, if he was ever sad, Elijah would play him songs on the piano. He loved watching his brother tangle his fingers the notes, tap his foot, even hum along. Their father, however, had never been a huge fan of the arts and he had made Elijah quit music for good and study business to be next in line for the family shares.

After Finn, of course.

Klaus lazily taps a finger over a note on the living room piano - he thinks of his brother and then he tries to play a song.

“Sounds bloody awful,” Mikael chimes in, suddenly appearing behind him.

“What do you want?” Klaus asks, refusing to turn around.

He can feel his breath on the back of his neck, the way it sinks into his skin like hot sputters of lava. “You know,” Mikael says. “You truly are the last person I wanted to see, at the moment.”

Klaus doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re not exactly all that pleasant to be around either.”

He never speaks of this but sometimes, Klaus swears, his father could be slightly afraid of him - the way he’s so threatened by any little action of his must mean something.

“Your tongue has been getting sharper lately,” Mikael grits, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to turn around. “You’d do well to keep your comments to yourself,” he advises, now face to face with his son.

“And allow you to berate me?” Klaus spits.

Mikael grabs him by the collar and pushes him against a wall. “This is my house!” He shouts. “Don’t you forget that,” his grip doesn’t loosen until Klaus looks away from him, like a scared dog.

Satisfied, Mikael lets him go. He takes his leave, disappearing for the rest of the night.

-

-

-

xxi: and you come around from the town of complacence

-

(Klaus feels a cold sweat run all the way down his back.

He swears that it’s pooling around his feet, rising and rising almost as if he’s drowning. His knees are weak, he collapses on the floor, shaking.

Just then -

Ansel’s name appears on his phone again.

He manages to nervously grab a hold of the device, clumsily opening up his messages.

“Hi son - haven’t heard back from you in a while - just wanted to see how you were doing! I’m on my way back from my shift at the bar, came across this gorgeous mural painting of a bird, thought you might enjoy seeing it”.

“[Ansel has sent a Picture Message]”

And funny enough, Klaus suddenly feels like he can breathe again).

-

Her dreams - they’re supposed to be pink.

Rosy clouds, pomegranate juice, cotton candy on her tongue. But instead, tonight she dreams in black.

Hayley had woken up to loud noise from downstairs. She rushes towards the front door, spotting Klaus with a large backpack on, heading out.

“So, I’ve been caught, it seems,” he whispers, noticing her presence. “Are you going to tattle on me?”

She shakes her head. Hayley grabs his sleeve, pulling on it in order for him to understand.

He laughs, turning around to take her hand in his. “I understand, you want me to stay, love,” he acknowledges. “But I assume you know how dire my circumstances are in this place, the Mikaelson mansion isn’t as cookie-cutter as it may seem,” Klaus sighs sadly.

Her heart breaks into a thousand tiny pieces - she feels so close to this man before her, she can’t imagine being in this big lonely house without him.

Hayley reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small object for him.

“What’s this? A shell?” Klaus asks as she places in his palm and closes his fingers around him. He can’t help but smile at this small action. “I’ll keep it with me wherever I go,” he assures her.

His hand is in her hair, wrapping around the back of her head and pulling her flush against his chest.

“In exchange, I promise you that we will see each other again,” he whispers softly and she clutches the fabric of his shirt. Hayley inhales his scent. “What do you think? Will you wait for me, until then?” Klaus murmurs.

She nods, finally finding the strength to smile again.

“That’s a good girl.” He hums.

He hears her small sobs into his chest, and he can’t help it, he wants to cry too.

He finally has a moment with her, and it just had to be now. He swears, he has such bad luck.

“Nik-”

And just then, his brother chimes in, allowing the bad luck to resume.

-

“Nik,” Kol releases, looking worried as he rushes down the stairs in order to be by his brother’s side.

(It is only later that he realizes that Hayley is in his arms).

“What’s happening? Where are you going?” He asks, voice caught in his throat.

Klaus lets go of Hayley, allowing her to return to Kol’s side as the older brother starts to step away.

“Kol,” he says, now standing a few steps from their doorway, outside their house. “It’s a bit of a shame that I couldn’t offer you a proper goodbye,” Klaus continues, taking one last look at his little brother (one last look at his home). “Or any of our other siblings, for that matter,” he takes more steps backwards, getting further and further away.

“What are you talking about?” Kol shouts, lunging towards the door.

Hayley is close to him, almost in his arms - but he doesn’t event notice.

Not when his brother is -

His brother is -

“Let them know I will be safe,” Klaus promises. “And rest assured that I will keep in touch.”

“Klaus,” Kol tries to run after him. “Wait, don’t do this-“ Hayley holds him back and he realizes that she’s much stronger than he thought. He looks into her eyes, he sees how much she trusts his brother and it almost baffles him.

“Hayley,” he calls her. “You have to let me stop him,” Kol orders.

She shakes her head. She can’t do that, no matter how much she wants to. She’s seen the scar on his face, the way Mikael hurts him.

She couldn’t live with herself if she allowed him to do this to Klaus any longer.

“Brother,” Klaus interrupts. “Hayley, she’s strong but, she’ll need someone to lean on, someone to be there for her,” he says, noticing how tender Kol is towards her. “Do take care of her while I’m gone, make sure she doesn’t get too lonely.”

His cab arrives, Klaus ducks inside and he can see his brother fighting Hayley’s strength with all his might.

“Nik!” When Hayley finally weakens, Kol pushes her aside and runs after the car as it drives away. “Please, we can work this out!” He keeps shouting - running until he is out of breath.

Running until he is chocking.

Klaus looks back until he sees his brother collapse and Hayley run to his safety. She holds him in her arms, a soft glow coming from her fingers as she hovers over him.

“Goodbye Kol,” Klaus whispers to himself, fingers tightly clasped around his chest.

-

[marauders-map-irl]

this is Not An Accident (written very poorly by me)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: R*PE, M*RD*R, SELF-HATE, R*CISM, H*MOPH*BIA

Living here, in this small, ignorant town, going to my small, ignorant high school, looking like I do, loving who I do, sucks. And that’s to say the least. For some background, I live in a small town in the countryside of Tennessee, called Greenton. I go to a high school called Cookie-Cutter, which is pretty ironic because it is much like a high school you would see on tv.

Everyone pretty much hates us here. I can’t say that I blame them, though. I hate me too. My family is the only strange family here; everyone else is pretty normal (extremely so). Everyone mocks us and bullies us. My mum is African American and my father is Irish. They both joke that we’re the 21st century version of the Brady Bunch.

There’s 7 of us, including my parents and I. I’m right in the middle of my brothers and sisters, and perhaps the most normal, but that doesn’t say much. My eldest brother is John (20), and he’s the oldest of us all. He’s mixed like the rest of us, he’s cisgender male and gay. Then comes my eldest sister, Moira (19), who’s non-binary and pansexual. There’s me next (16), and I’m cisgender female, asexual, and aromantic. After me came my trans (female-male) brother (12), Mikey, and he’s heterosexual. Lastly came my sister, Brittany (9), who’s showing signs of being demiromantic.

We’re the only people that aren’t white in the entire town, and we only came here to help dad’s parents in retirement. The town is extremely ignorant, and it doesn’t help that we came from a big city either. In school, I’m an outcast, though I suppose it’s better than being constantly bullied still. They’ve stopped all contact with me completely, deeming my lack of wanting any sexual activities at my age strange. The teachers even think I’m weird too, and as such have either called on me excessively or just stick to grading my perfect papers and not making any conversation with me if unnecessary. I tend to get perfect grades, what with having absolutely no platonic ties to anyone outside family.

That brings me to where we are currently. In math class, staring out of a window I’m somehow always seated by. The teacher, whatever her name is, is droning on and on about a group project worth half of our final grade for the year. Three people just either groaned or were making tiny grunts of displeasure, meaning I was in a group this time. This project must actually be important. I look up about 4 minutes later, when someone sits next to me and taps my shoulder. Looking up, it’s the very person that continues to poke fun at me, Jessica Kaileia. Well, Jessica, 1 of her most loyal cronies, and another nerd. Sam, I think his name is, and I recall he always eats a slice or two of pie everyday at lunch.

“Do you need something?” I ask Jessica coldly, averting my eyes quickly from her makeup-caked face.

“We’re project partners, Mckinlay. Otherwise I wouldn’t risk my wellbeing talking to you, trust me,” she smirks slightly and her cronie sniggers, but I just roll my eyes and Sam snorts.

“So we’re using last names? Didn’t think you liked your last name anymore, what with your father being a serial killer, Kaileia,” Sam says, making me hold in my giggles as Jessica shrieks.

“You forgot the part where her mum left her for a woman,” her cronie says in disgust, clearly trying and failing to conceal her own laughter.

“Mackenzie!!” Jessica says in a shriek that would rival that of Petunia Dursley.

“Watch your volume, Ms. Kaileia,” the teacher says in her monotone voice, barely glancing up from her issue of The Quibbler.

“Yes, Ms. Binns. Sorry, Ms. Binns,” Jessica says, rolling her eyes before returning to glare at Sam and I respectfully.

“What was the assignment?” I ask, wanting to rid myself of these potentially cruel people as quickly as possible.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it done by tomorrow and put your names on it. I am second in our year. Of course, I will need your first and last names, well, not yours Kaileia,” Sam states, staring at the packet of instructions and not looking up at us once.

“Yes, well I’m first so I’d actually like to do the work, if you don’t mind. Not that princess Allura and her bestie Romelle here would appreciate getting a fair share of the project,” I say, snatching the packet gently and looking it over.

“Who are they?” the cronie asks, making both Sam and I snort.

“Homewreckers one and two,” Sam says as I divide the instructions in half and give the easy half to Sam.

“Language, Mr. Avery,” the teacher’s monotone voice rings throughout the classroom and Sam apologizes half-heartedly.

“Wait, why do I get the easy part of the assignment?” he asks me offrontedly.

“Because I’m the first in our class,” I answer easily in a ‘duh’ tone, to which he nods with a slight frown.

The assignment was straightforward and easy, although to Jessica and her friend, it would be like rocket science to a 3 year old. I set to work, knowing that if I start now, my half would be done by the end of lunch hour. I didn’t pay much attention to my bullies, though them being in my peripheral didn’t support the cause at all. They were seemingly doing their nails (more like the minion doing Jessica’s nails) and talking about stereotypical popular girl things. The tiny bits that I actually heard made me roll my eyes so hard and so often I was worried they might actually get stuck.

“What’s your name? I need to know for the project,” I ask the she-devil’s minion, but she looks to Jessica for confirmation before speaking.

“Clara Maythers,” she mutters, as though the mere thought of speaking to someone as ‘abnormal’ as me scared her very being.

I nod half-heartedly before adding her name to the list and continuing the project, trying once again to ignore the ignorant bastards behind me. I turn slightly when I see Jessica forcing Clara to hold up a magazine for her to read while she blows her wet nails dry, making sure I couldn’t see them at all. When I was looking over what I had, the intercom came on and the principal spoke. Her voice shook with laughter and I’m sure her face was turned up in a smirk. It was probably another prank. This is Cookie-Cutter, after all. We’re a very stereotypical high school and I’m a very… let’s just say mold-breaking student.

“Could Ms. Alessia Mckinlay come to the front desk to be collected. There has been a family emergency,” she says family as if she doesn’t believe my strange family is one, and I’m sure she doesn’t. There’s incoherent words being said to the principal and she grudgingly continues. “Please,” and after that, the intercom cuts off and all heads turn my way.

I make my way to the front office, as asked, and am hit with sneers, sympathetic looks, and pretty much everything between hate and loathing. I’m not even able to make my way to the front office before my parents steer me away from looking in the lobby. I look at them with a mix of skepticism and worry. Principal Maera did say there was a family emergency, after all.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to look over my parents’ shoulders and failing, due to them forming a wall in front of whatever they were hiding.

“Your sister… There was an accident and…” mum cuts herself off there with a choked sob, making me look to my father for the remaining explanation.

“They…” my father then stops himself, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, either searching for the right words or not wanting to say them aloud (although in retrospect, it’s probably a mix of both).

At this point, I’m worried for all of my sisters, frustrated with my parents for not telling me what’s wrong, and attempting to stay positive and force all the negative thoughts from my head. I manage to shove through the human wall before me and my body freezes at the sight. Laying in front of my eyes is my little sister, Brittany, battered, bruised, broken, and lifeless. Her pants are down to her ankles, her rainbow underwear just past her knees, and blood is drying and caking around her…

I tear my eyes away, but they somehow end up right back at her. This time, though, I’m studying her face. It’s frozen in pain, but there’s also an air of peacefulness present. There’s bruises forming around her neck and littering her face, but I try not to focus on that. I try to focus on all her happy memories. I try to focus on her laughing as mum caught her cheating in Monopoly. I try to focus on dad hiding a grin as she stole a bit of the cake batter for my birthday last year. I try to focus on Brit. But it’s so hard. I try to focus on her happy times. But I always end up looking into her wide, horrified eyes.

My body’s seemingly on autopilot now, because I somehow make it over to my 9 year old sibling to shut her eyes properly, but I didn’t think about it. I thought about how someone could do this to a child. I thought about who could do this to a child. I thought about why someone would do this to a child.

But soon enough, a camera flashes, and then 2, then 5, and then I’m surrounded not only by my baby sister’s blood, but light from what seems like millions of phones. Soon enough, I feel like I’m under a microscope, and viscous scientists are picking apart my every move. Soon enough, I’m back to the main lobby of Cookie-Cutter High School in Greenton, Tennessee. And soon enough, the laughing, mocking, sneering, jeering students return full force.

I hear my mum crying in the background and muttering something about this being an accident. About it having to be an accident. That just makes me mad. Does she not see the freshman taking pictures of her youngest child’s corpse? Does she not see the sophomores laughing mercilessly at her and my tears alike? Does she not hear the juniors yelling at us that our whole family is a disgrace to human-kind? Does she not hear the seniors telling us that we all deserve the same fate? Does she not see my principal’s smug smirk as she watches the whole event and does absolutely nothing?

“This wasn’t an accident. How can you beat someone up on accident? How can you rape someone on accident? How can you murder an innocent child ON ACCIDENT? I get that you’re in shock or whatever, I really do. BUT HOW THE HELL COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK THIS WAS AN ACCIDENT? PEOPLE HAVE BULLIED US EVER SINCE WE MOVED HERE! THEY MOCK, TEASE, PUNCH, BUT NOW THEY’VE GONE TOO FAR!” my father is telling me to stop yelling, but I don’t hear him. All I know is that I see red, whether that be from the blood pooling at my feet or rage, I have no clue. “DON’T YOU SEE THEM LAUGHING, RECORDING, YELLING AT US?! DON’T YOU SEE HOW THIS COULD NOT HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN AN ACCIDENT?!” and by now, I’m crying, but she has to know. She has to become aware. She has to stop this. She has to. “Please,” I say to no one in particular, taking my sister’s dead body in my arms and sinking down to sit on the floor.

I can’t do anything but hug my now limp sister and pray that this is just another practical joke. Hope that she’s not really gone. Wish that I could have been a good big sister and protected her.

She had so much life left to live. She was only NINE, for god’s sake! She was going to grow up! She was going to make it past the fourth grade! She was going to do well in school and get into the college she wanted to go to! She was going to be successful in her career and her life! She was going to die when she was old and senile and only after beating a terminal disease like cancer, because that’s the stubborn bastard she is. Was.

This wasn’t an accident.

[providencepeakrp]

DANIELA FRANCO

age: 29.

gender & pronouns: cis female & she/her.

neighborhood: claret park.

occupation: owner of bloom wellness.

fc: adria arjona.

BIOGRAPHY

trigger warnings: learning disability, medication, and gambling.

Born Daniela Franco in Los Angeles, California, life was pleasant and on the verge of cookie cutter. Her parents were good people from good families that had a sense of community and wholesomeness about them that could have been considered boring. At least Daniela did growing up in that household. While boring was far from a bad thing, it was simply uneventful and could lead to destruction for someone that wanted more from life than the normal milestones that way of living offered. Life spans were short; something Daniela learned when her first grandparent passed away when she was just seven years old. It was that event alone that seemed to really draw out her ADD and thus began the complications of keeping her within the means of the family dynamic. As cliché as it was, she was the youngest child with an older sister named Melissa and often went unnoticed unless there was a problem. As a child and into her early teens, it was mostly that she couldn’t sit still and she had far too much energy for her parents to contain and keep after her sister as well. So Daniela was thrown into sports, which worked when it came to expelling some of the restlessness, but the issue was more in the mind and not the body. Too often she would stay up all night because her brain wouldn’t shut down for sleep, it would constantly spin on thoughts and daydreams and thus began her insomnia.

Intelligence was something she very much possessed. Daniela was observant in the sharpest of ways with an eidetic memory and broad interest in varying topics and subjects, but the problem was focus. Unless something strong captured her attention and she was able to force herself into a hyper-focus then her mind would bounce around and it made homework and tests an absolute challenge. No matter how well she knew the material or could figure it out on the fly, Daniela would often blank on tests and couldn’t buckle down to focus on homework. The result was too often subpar grades, scores below her intelligence level but because of a disability and standardized methods of schooling her IQ was never genuinely reflected and it all had an effect on her self esteem. Daniela’s sister, just as smart, did very well in school and was praised rightfully so for it but Daniela was always a disappointment or in trouble because she couldn’t perform the same way.

When the insomnia led to her sleeping at school or passing out from exhaustion, her parents sought out professional help. Daniela was sent from her regular doctor to see a psychiatrist and the journey of various medications began, all just to get her to sleep. Some meds would leave her groggy and feeling like a zombie, others would make her sleep walk, and then there was one or two that would generally work but her ADD would combat it. It took a while for her psychiatrist to recognize and finally diagnose Daniela with Attention Deficit Disorder, but that was a whole other trip of medications that Daniela opted out of quickly in hating how it all made her feel. All the medications for this or that just did more damage to her self esteem, feeling like she was one issue and problem after another. She never really began acting out but her restless nature led Daniela to seek adventure and whatever would get her blood running. Whether that meant racing cars and staying out all night with friends, or going into places she was far too young to really be able to handle like pool halls and card rooms then she seemed game for it. One thing for sure about Daniela was that she was competitive.

Due to a job transfer, the Franco family moved half way across the country and settled in a mountainous city named Providence Peak. It was a tough move mostly for Daniela who had a final year of high school to finish and of course having to reexplain her situation to new teachers and a new school system. Thankfully her file did most of the talking for her and her parents and while Melissa attended the local university she pushed her way through a new high school where she felt completely out of place. It was only a year and Daniela made her family happy by graduating with a GPA that was good enough to get her accepted at the same local university her older sister was attending. During her time at Providence Peak University she met and made friends pretty quickly with a couple of girls, who would soon begin to feel more like the friendships she’d had growing up. Like they had grown up together. The three girls were together all of the time and formed a band they called Black Sheep after an amazing karaoke night, and for a while the band took more of her free time than her cards did. Eventually the band ceased as university became more difficult and their lives pulled them in different directions.

By the time she was nineteen she had made her first six figure income year, and by twenty-one her first six figure income day all by playing poker. It wasn’t that she was some exceptional card shark, it was more so that she had talent but a very sharp mind. Not only could she calculate and make raw decisions on the fly it was something her ADD and hyper-focus could attach to. The amount of brain activity it takes to play poker would often exhausted the average person but Daniela could have ten to twelve online games going on at once and it played perfectly into the rapid fire way her mind worked. She definitely experienced some low points since no one always wins, and she had some hard losses but for the most part Daniela was living a life that was beyond the wildest dreams of someone from a conventional family. She was able to travel the world and follow the live poker tours, sit at the table with some of the greats and legendary players and hold her own — occasionally winning. But most of all, Daniela was able to live a free and independent life, one that wasn’t structured in the typical contemporary fashion. She did make it through university but she didn’t have to run off to a corporate job or punch a clock anywhere. Daniela got to live life however she wanted and she loved it.

At twenty-three, after a night of playing cards in a back room in Dublin, Daniela married an Irishman she’d spent the night before with drinking and just having fun. It wasn’t love, it was just exhilaration. He was wild and adventurous and matched exactly with where she was in life at that point in time and she was careless in not recognizing that he was just in it for the ride and whatever he could get out of the nuptials. And she didn’t recognize that he was milking her for all she was worth until it was too late; nearly a year into the marriage and waking up one morning with divorce papers and an empty bank account. Through the divorce he held his claims that he really did love her, even called her his soulmate, but that he just didn’t want to be married and tied to one woman. Either way, Daniela got screwed and learned more lessons about life. Making her way through the world and through life as a professional poker player certainly made for an incredible way to live.

Broke and then a divorcee, Daniela moved back to Providence Peak to stay with her sister for a while who still lived in the city. It took a little while to build herself back up and fill her accounts again, especially after losing her confidence when it came to the distractions of her personal life. After working mid-level games for a while as a rounder, Daniela eventually moved up and began playing again before the disaster that was her marriage. She continued her mix of both online games and hitting actual tables to have the feel of cards in her hand and just enjoying the rush of high stakes a little more when sitting at a table with people that were likely to kill you over what most everyone considers just a “game”. The time soon came for Daniela to look for her own place and give her sister her space back, especially since Melissa had a serious relationship blooming and they deserved their privacy. She didn’t really like it, the thought of living alone made her sad and contemplate how lonely she was willing to feel. Daniela refused to move back home into her parents house, feeling like a failure if she had to do that so instead she found a house and settled in. It looked like Providence Peak was going to be permanent.

After the move, with her pockets and bank account lined and cushioned, Daniela decided to make a big change. It was time to put her university degree to use and all the certifications she’d earned as an esthetician. She’d been doing the research for years, so why not? Daniela opened up her own shop: Bloom Wellness. Where she sells handmade healing products to soothe and cleanse the mind, body, and soul. Since many of her products are made with CBD, she has a relationship with a local grower and in the last two years bought part of that company. Daniela ended up in a battle with Square over CBD and eventually won after sticking it out and standing by her products. They did almost put her out of business though and she’s feeling rather proud and blessed now. Though, being a solitary business owner hasn’t been without hardships, last year she lost her entire inventory to humidity and was devastated and had to completely rebuild her stock. Since it’s just her and two employees making everything, working the shop, and since it’s her only source of income, Daniela got worried about the bottom falling out on her. During that really difficult time, battling Square and losing her inventory, when she was feeling her lowest, Daniela nearly sold her business for next to nothing. Thankfully, she stuck it out and what she will tell anyone in making their own business: trust the process.

written by: christie.

[banjodanger]

The New Mutants(2020): Going Out Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper(and Racism)

I’m of the opinion there are two types of bad movies. On the one hand you have movies that are enjoyably bad. Movies that catch on something of a second life based on the dialogue or the plot or the inclusion of Nicholas Cage. Movies that are such a grotesque misfire that you can’t help but enjoy them. I’m thinking of movies like The Room, Cats, or roughly two-thirds of the Fast and Furious series. “Serious” film buffs will scoff, but if your life revolves around reexamining Godfather for the umpteenth time maybe you don’t understand fun.

The second kind of bad movies are just...bad. There’s no joy in their badness. They’re neither enjoyable as cinema nor as entertainment. Though they run the gamut from joyless slog to actively offensive, they’re always noxious turds. It’s like the difference between a hot dog cart and an Applebee’s. Both are cheap shit, but the hot dog cart isn’t going to lie to you. In case it’s not obvious, New Mutants is an Applebee’s.

Honestly, that should be the box quote. “New Mutants is the Applebees of movies.”-Some tumblr Rando

It’s the most accurate description of this movie. It clearly wants to imagine itself as an intelligent, genre-hopping film, something strange and unique when in reality this couldn’t be more cookie cutter if it came out of a bakery. This movie was supposed to be something new for Fox, a teen-horror film. That isn’t a bad idea, and judging by how Marvel has since marketed Wandavision and Multiverse of Madness, it’s an idea someone thinks is worth exploring. This movie doesn’t explore that idea. It glances at it on the shelf before grabbing a giant fistful of hair clippings and gobbling wildly.

The best horror movies offer a sense of creeping dread that slowly becomes overwhelming, lurking in the periphery of the movie. I’m thinking of movies like Hereditary or John Carpenter’s The Thing. Those movies offer an atmosphere that begins at unsettling and gradually overwhelms its characters and the audience. New Mutants never even attempts. The hospital has five patients and a massive force field surrounding the property, and everyone seems...weirdly cool about it. I assume the movie wanted to show these kids as beaten down but they come off as apathetic.

The part of this movie that really defies logic is what I imagine was supposed to be a memorable part of the film, the big party. A lot is invested into this sequence, it’s clearly supposed to be a big emotional linchpin of the whole thing. It’s also asinine. It illustrates the general way this film treats its characters, in that it doesn’t have characters so much as pawns. It moves them into the necessary positions as the movies sees fit, and the party scene is that in a nutshell. They knock out Dr. Reyes to...party? Previously in the movie there’s a brief discussion of the X-Men and they determine that they’re undergoing training for that. Why not have them discover that information, and then party? You show them as the driven, scrappy young mutants that would make this a franchise. Instead there’s a party because we really needed an extended Breakfast Club homage.

Dani and Rahne sharew their feelings during said party too. I said before I watched this that I was concerned they’d make too big a deal out of this, and I’ll give credit where it’s due, it didn’t feel forced. However, it did feel like I was just watching the trailer of Fault In Our Stars again. Also, I’m taking that credit away because hitting the bare minimum isn’t a reason to celebrate. The movie handled a queer relationship well? Good, ALL movies should be because we’re way past the point of that being a big deal. As if it should have ever been a big deal. I also have some issues with the movie brushing off Rahne’s second brand. I appreciate Rahne showing sympathy to Dani because tragic queer stories are a trope that needs to die in a fire, slowly, in front of other, better queer depictions. But it also doesn’t feel right. It’s never revisited. The movie introduces this horrific event and it can either bring them closer or tear them apart and it does...neither. Bold choice, I guess but also frustrating in that you’ve just chosen zero character development.

Is it possible for a movie to be passive-aggresive?

I mentioned the racism in the last blog post and I’m mentioning it again, because goddamnit, it serves zero purpose. If you needed a mean girl, consult the movie Mean Girls. Ton of ideas there. Roberto and Cecilia are whitewashed in a decision that Josh Boone seemed to be bizarrely proud of because perhaps he’s never listened to the sound of his own voice before. Blu Hunt is queer and indigenous though so...one step forward? Blu Hunt has mentioned being personally happy with how the movie handled it and frankly that’s enough for me. I never found her thoughts on the “two wolves” voiceover and it’s probably just as well.

The actors themselves don’t deserve a lot of hate. For actors like Anna Taylor-Joy and Maisie Williams, they’re good in roles that they likely assumed would go on for the better part of a decade at least. For actors like Blu Hunt and Henry Zaga that aren’t as popular, getting cast in a major franchise like this was probably an easy decision at the time. Charlie Heaton is great, but I’ve got to mention him separately because while his acting is good, no one from Kentucky talks like that before three jugs of moonshine that are for some reason filled with marbles. He’s good in the role but his accent changes and it never sounds convincing. It would have been better to just forgo an accent like they did with Storm way back in the first movie. Alice Braga, as the villain, is present and awake for her scenes. It’s all that’s really asked of her and I can’t fault her. Mr. Sinister was supposed to show up in this movie as a villain, and they clearly didn’t spend a lot of time rewriting her character to make up for his absence. The result is she’s not sympathetic in the group therapy scenes and she’s not threatening as the villain. None of that is to say she’s bad in the role. She does as well as she can in a role that was clearly underwritten from the start.

Quick question, will Adam Beach ever make it to act two of a superhero film? The world waits to know.

Also, someone who does deserve a lot of hate is Marilyn Manson. He’s the voice of the Smiling Men that attack Illyana in the third act. It’s kind of disappointing, because I love the detail of tracksuits and tattoos that recall Russian gangsters. However, Marilyn Manson was already pretty well known as a sleazebag before Evan Rachel Wood called him out by name, and Josh Boone choosing to work with him is just one more gross decision he should be called out for.

The CGI looks the same as it does in almost every X-Men movie. It runs the gamut from passable to trash. It has been a constant source of curiosity how a movie with a budget the size of a country’s GDP can still produce CGI that consistently looks out of date. Something like the Demon Bear can look fine, but Dr. Reyes’ force fields near the ending could have been drawn in and looked better. Some of the shots of Limbo and Lockheed look bad as well. I mean, if you’re going to have six characters you could at least try harder to animate their powers.

Having gotten this far you wouldn’t be wrong in thinking I was going to tell you this is the worst X-Men movie. It’s not. It’s just a perfect encapsulation of how Fox treated these characters at their worst. This movie isn’t bad, it’s mediocre, and that’s even worse. Fox aimed low and settled for less, and if that isn’t a summation of their approach to this franchise I don’t know what is.

New Mutants (pandemic) Box Office:

Budget: $67 Million

Opening Weekend Gross: $7 Million (During a Pandemic!)

Total U.S. Gross: $23 Million

Next: We (finally) talk about Deadpool and Fox’s attempt to get a sense of humor.

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Christmas Cookies

Day One: Snowflake

Part of @panicfob​ 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Warnings: Angst, First attempt at writing child dialogue (be kind), Bucky and little kid (it’s a warning for your ovaries).

Word Count: 1789

Paring:  Bucky Barnes x Reader(First Person-nameless)

A/N: I’m so excited about this writing series. Christmas is my favorite time of year. This is my first attempt at a series, well anything beyond a one-shot. I will be adding a section to my Masterlist for this series.

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Baking supplies were thrown about the kitchen counters, as I arranged all the cookie cutters for easy selection. The oven preheated while two batches of rolled out sugar cookie dough sat on the counter. I was excited to spend the afternoon with Morgan baking and decorating cookies, at first, I wasn’t sure how Pepper would respond when I asked to have her little girl over to bake for Christmas; surprisingly she was enthusiastic about the whole situation. Saying something about it’d be good for Morgan to spend time with the people she’d heard so many stories about.

“You’re gonna share, right?” Sam asked rounding the corner.

“If you wanna eat them, you’re gonna have to help decorate them,” I replied with a smile.

“I thought that was what the kid was for?” He pointed at Morgan.

“They call that child labor.” Bucky joked entering the room behind Sam. “And they passed laws banning that in 1938.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help?”  Sam glowered.

Bucky stole a spoon full of dough before smiling at Morgan.

“You’re not ‘posed to do that.” She smiled back at him.

A laugh escaped as I observed the sight in front of me. Oh lord was it a sight too. Both men dressed in sweats but looking like they are partaking in two different events; Sam looked as if he just got home from a run while Bucky looked like he no plans beyond laying on the couch for the day. I was convinced from the day I moved into the compound that Bucky was trying to kill me with just his looks; the way his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, dangerously low, and a black t-shirt clung to his chest in all the right places. Looks like that, no matter how much I tried to resist, it did things to me.

“How long have you been here munchkin?” Bucky asked kneeling down.

It warmed my heart to see this person the world knew as an elite assassin be pure putty in the hands of a six-year-old little girl.

Morgan shrugged, “Forever.”

Bucky smiled, “C’mere,”

Morgan wiggled her way into his arms as he scooped her up into a big bear hug and kissed her hair.

“I know when I’m not wanted,” Sam muttered opening the fridge.

“Sam, stay,” I called out, “Decorate cookies, eat frosting. It’s the holidays, it’s supposed to be fun.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll come steal them when they’re done.” He said disappearing with a water bottle.

Bucky sat Morgan on the counter to look at all the different cookie cutters.

“Unc Buck?” Morgan said look up at him.

I knew those eyes before she even spoke, she was going to ask him for something.

“Yeah, pumpkin?” He was looking at the cutters.

Morgan pulled on his shirt taking back his attention causing Bucky to laugh.

“Decorate cookies with us.” It sounded like a question but more of a demand.

Bucky looked between me and Morgan; we’ve lived under the same roof for three months now and were far from friends. He was polite when he was forced to interact with me; he didn’t run out of the room if I came in, but he never seemed to go out of his way to talk to me either.

“I don’t know baby, I think this was supposed to be a date with your Auntie,”

“Bucky, you are welcome to join.” I interjected, “Really, the more the merrier.”

“I hate to break it to both of you kids, but I’m a terrible baker.”

Morgan and I both laughed.

“How about you help us cut them out, then you can play with her while I bake them and then we can all decorate together?” I purposed.

“What do you think, munchkin?” Bucky asked tickling her sides.

She giggled nodding her head.

“I guess I’m helping with cookies then.”

I smiled at him and mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to him; it was pretty clear that Morgan wasn’t about to let Bucky escape her grasp.

“Whatcha thinkin’ maybe some Santa and Snowmen?” I asked Morgan.

She shook her head no.

“No”

“How about candy canes?” Bucky asked picking up the cutter.

She shook her head again.

“But candy canes are the best.” I agreed.

Morgan picked up a cutter and showed it to us.

“Snowflake,” Bucky and I said in unison with smiles.

“Yeah,”

“Snowflakes and snowmen?” I asked.

She shook her head; she was definitely a Stark – bossy and knows exactly what she wants. “Just this.”

Bucky laughed at my pout. “But sugar bean you can have more than one shape.”

“I know.” She smiled.

“Maybe some people like snow,” Bucky said softly elbowing me.

I refrained from asking questions or making jokes about Bucky and snow; the only thing that came to mind was Siberia.

“Guess we’re making a snowstorm,” I said bumping Morgan’s nose with my finger. “I’ll grab the dough.”

The next half hour the three of us spent arranging snowflakes on the dough and moving them to the cookie sheets, Bucky was sure to show Morgan how to push the cutter just right so there would be little bits of cookie dough that couldn’t be used and would need to be eaten. I smiled each time she tried to do it on her own, I couldn’t help but wonder how this would play out if Tony and Steve were still around. No one in the house seemed to be in the Christmas spirit beside me, but Tony always knew how to throw a good party; maybe he could have gotten everyone else in the spirit?

“Wanna play a game?” Bucky asked Morgan as she put the last cookie on the tray.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

“You go hide and I’ll count to 100 and come find you.”

Her eyes lit up, “I can hide anywhere?”

Both of us smiled at her.

“Anywhere inside.” Bucky clarified.

Before we could blink, she was down from the chair and long out of sight. I picked up two of the tray’s and walked towards the oven; Bucky was close behind with the last two, he set them on the counter.

“Thank you,” I said as he set them down.

He smiled up at me, “Call us when they’re ready to frost?”

“Sure thing.”

With that he disappeared into the rest of the compound, undoubtedly, to exhaust Morgan with childhood games. Selfishly I wished to play with them and leave the cookies behind, but I knew it was best to stay away. I told myself repeatedly to not get too comfortable with this version of Bucky; I had seen glimpses of it before and it always disappeared when Morgan would go home. I wanted to believe it was just an act for her, but not a single Oscar award-winning actor could pull off this good of a show; it had to be authentic.  

When the cookies were baked and cooled, I called Morgan and Bucky back to the kitchen. The three of us frosted and decorated the snowflakes, it was easy to tell the difference between the cookies; excessive sprinkles were Morgan, the plain frosting was Bucky’s and mine were elaborately painted with a mix of colors and sprinkles.

Morgan held a cookie up that was covered in red white and blue sprinkles.

“It’s beautiful, baby girl.” I smiled.

“Uncle Steve would approve,” Bucky commented.

“Capsicle,” Morgan smiled.

Bucky and I both laughed.

“Knock, Knock,” Pepper said rounding the kitchen wall.

“Mommy!” Morgan shouted with a smile.

“Hey Pep,” I smiled.

“Hi, baby girl,” Pepper said coming to stand behind her daughter. “Did you have fun with your aunt and uncle?”

“Look wha' I made,” Morgan said holding up a cookie.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.”

“Glad you think so, we’re sending them all with you for Happy and Peter.”

Pepper laughed, “Too much sugar for you?”

“They will go to waste here,” I replied.

“Won’t you eat any of them?” Pepper asked Bucky.

“One or two. I’m not a sugar cookie fan.” He replied honestly. “And Sam doesn’t deserve any.”

I laughed, “He was told he had to help if he wanted any.”

I got up to grab Tupperware for the cookies while Pepper and Bucky talked about the games he played with Morgan. She thanked him for always being so attentive to the little girl, explaining that the relationship between the two meant so much to her. I hated to interrupt with the cookies when I did.

“Let’s go, baby, we’re gonna go see Peter on the way home.”

“Yay!” Morgan exclaimed,

“Thanks for coming over today,” Bucky said leaning down to the girl.

She smiled up at him, “Love you.”

He kissed her cheek, “I love you too munchkin.”

“I’ll walk you guys out,” I said.

Morgan held my hand as we walked through the kitchen and down the hall to the double doors in the foyer. Pepper carried the container of cookies as we made our way out to the car, a driver I didn’t recognize opened the back door of the Escalade and took the cookies.

I bent down to Morgan, “I had a good day today, thank you for helping make it so special.”

“Me too,”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Morgan replied.

I kissed her cheek before the driver helped her up into the car.

“Thanks again for letting me take her for the afternoon,” I said hugging Pepper.

“It was a great idea, I’m glad she has you both.” She smiled, “Seems he’s pretty happy to have you too.”

“Pepper, no, nothing is going on there. The only time he’s around me willingly is when she’s around.” I nodded towards Morgan.

“If you want to tell yourself that be my guest, but I saw the way he looks at you.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile, “Give Peter a big hug for me, okay?”

She laughed, “I will, I’ll see you at the Christmas Party, right?” She asked climbing in the car.

“Of course. It’s the one day a year that I actually get to dress up.”

She closed the door with a smile and turned to go into the house. It was deathly quiet without Morgan. Smiling to myself I walked back to the kitchen to start to clean up. My mind wandered at the topic Pepper mentioned about Bucky and me, but that thought process was cut short when I found the kitchen empty. The dishes had been arranged nicely by the sink and the majority of the mess had been cleaned up, but Bucky was nowhere in sight. Guess it didn’t take him long to snap out of his mood.

It was going to be a long December.

[goonlalagoon]

The Great Haus Bake-Off || Check, Please!

I have no memory of what caused me to start writing this, but been re-reading some Check Please fic and finally got motivated to go back and finish it...

(also on Ao3 here)

No-one was quite certain, later, who started it.

 It had been a post-practice brunch, they all agreed, sometime in that period when everyone on the Internet - or at least, about thirty percent of the parts of the Internet that Bitty frequented and re-tweeted things from - was obsessed with Great British Bake Off, and someone had eventually said “It’s baking, it isn’t like it’s exciting”, and it seemed like almost everyone in the room made a sound of thoughtless agreement.

Then came the terrible ‘clang’ of an oven door being closed.

 Instantly, the room fell silent. The look Eric Bittle turned on them all would freeze enough water for an ice rink, and for a long moment everyone at the Haus kitchen table was both trying to remember whether they had said the terrible thing, and wondering with deep seated horror whether if no-one owned up Bitty would actually withhold all baked goods.

 Chowder actually gulped when he began to smirk.

 “Oh, really? Y’all better be ready to put your money where your mouths are.”

It’s really only supposed to be a small thing. Bitty plans to just get the boys to try and make something - maybe a pie, or maybe he’d give them something fancier, patisserie of some kind - which they would all inevitably fail at but would probably make fools of themselves in some deeply entertaining fashion while baking. But Lardo listens to him patter on about it for fifteen minutes, swallows her pie, and grins.

“Say, Bits? You reckon we could turn this into a Samwell Men’s Hockey publicity thing?”

 They even manage to get a sort-of sponsorship out of it by dint of Lardo sidling up to the manager of the cute little store Bitty goes to for baking apparatus - he’ll compromise on many things for the sake of budgeting, but when he needs another pie dish or his scales go on the blink, Eric Bittle is not afraid to invest - and cheerfully explaining the entire story. The manager is delighted and insists on being a judge in exchange for giving them a deal on some of the key equipment, because Bitty loves his teammates to pieces but wouldn’t dream of letting them near his mama’s set of cake tins for love nor money.

When the delivery arrives he discovers that the manger has even managed to get them cake stands patterned with skating boots and little snowflakes.

One of Lardo’s arty friends agrees to film it in exchange for permission to submit it as part of his film and media portfolio, and Bitty indulges himself in a full rerun of every episode of Bake Off aired so far to gather ideas.

Lardo joins him for most of it, already planning the spiel she’s going to stick up on the SMH website to cover the event and organising a few people for taste testing (with a guarantee of a Bittle produced rendition of the days challenge in case all other offerings are truly inedible as they both half suspect they will be)

 Meanwhile, the rest of the boys begin to panic. Baking is not a skill that was widely associated with the SMH Haus before the arrival of Bitty, and their main interaction with baked goods is still firmly on the consumer end of things.

Ransom is seen carrying a stack of cookbooks up to his chin across campus from the library, and spends his evenings memorising recipes with the fervour he usually saves for last minute test revision. No-one quite dares use the Haus kitchen to practice, because what if they damage Bitty’s baking stuff he will either cry or kill them or both, and take over miscellaneous dorm kitchens to try and memorise the basic sponge recipe. A bemused Farmer lets Chowder use her kitchen, and promptly tracks down Bitty to ask what on earth is going on, because “he accidentally used salt instead of sugar and I know for a fact he’s done that several times before, why is he trying to bake again now??”

(She joins in with the GBBO re-watch and makes some excellent suggestions for possible challenges.)

Shitty attempts to make macarons, because he suspects that Bitty is going to make them all suffer. He pokes his failed attempt and concludes that Bitty may be prepared to make them all suffer, but he also loves baking too much to inflict this level of horror on himself, surely?

He largely stops trying to prepare himself and instead starts waxing lyrical about baking in the context of gender roles, mostly the hypocrisy that being able to bake a cake is still considered an essential life skill for a girl, but no one has ever thought it unreasonable that he has never baked a cake before in his life, and winds up on Wikipedia at three fifteen A.M. having gone down a Google rabbit hole that has somehow led to him reading the page about the societal structure of meerkats.

 In the end, Bitty decides on three challenges, as a nod to the format and a fun way to get some variety; cookie decoration (he’ll provide the prepped dough, bake ‘em once everyone’s used whatever cookie cutters they want, and then they do the decoration), mini-cake construction (everyone gets a batch of miniature sponges, their choice of how to glue the two layers together and add finishing touches), and one actual baking round - the showstopper pie.

Lardo makes a schedule, because the Haus kitchen won’t take all seven of the team who got themselves into this mess trying to work in it all at once, so that they rotate between stages and go in batches to Murder Shop ‘n Stop to buy their pie filling ingredients.

 It’s a disaster, and Bitty watches the chaos unfold with entirely unconcealed glee, keeping up a cheerful voice over - and if his chirps happen to distract the boys and lead to much panicked responses and second guessing, well, that’ s just the nature of baking in a high-pressure environment, isn’t it?

The first round of judging involves a lot of guesswork. Admittedly, Chowder’s blue and white creations are a lot easier to figure out if you’ve seen the inside of the boy’s room and could reliably guess what he was going to attempt, so there are a lot of puzzled looks exchanged amongst the judges until someone makes the link with the Sharks hoodie he’s wearing.

It turns out that Dex can do a pretty neat galaxy icing pattern if he puts his mind to it, even if he got the consistency wrong; Bitty may actually have to try it himself, sometime.

(”Jack, did you…did you actually do maple leaf cut outs with a maple glaze? That’s…”

“Gotta stay on brand, eh? And I was told I wasn’t allowed to do plain circles and decorate them as hockey pucks.”

Most of the minature sponge cakes are gradually sliding more and more lopsided as the various attempts at butter-cream or other fillings prove unable to hold. Holster has somehow managed to cut his at almost a perfect diagonal instead of in half; Nursey simply gave up and presents his as an ‘open sandwich’ rather than trying to glue the layers back together.

 (“Shits, what did you even put in the middle of - is this marmite? Did you - did you seriously - why?”

“Listen, love it or hate it, and I happen to love it. Sweet and savoury, a classic combination -”

“Marmite victoria sponge is not a classic combination, Shitty.”

“I was told to be creative, thank you very much, unlike those of us who went with jam and butter-cream.”

“I like jam and butter-cream. Anyway, I did use apple jam, that’s not typical. And I put maple syrup in the -”

“Bro, I am also from Canada, and even I will say that is incredibly Canadian of you.”)

Bitty almost weeps when he sees the final range of pies produced. He was braced for them to be terrible; he just wasn’t quite prepared enough. For a moment, he wonders if this whole stunt was really worth it.

 Fillings are burnt while pastry is undercooked to the point of being raw - or the filling is horribly flavoured and the pastry overcooked until it’s about the consistency of wood chips.

Ransom has managed a surprisingly pretty lattice over three-quarters of his pie, but ran out of pastry for the last section. Chowder forgot to leave air-holes in the lid of his (and put salt instead of sugar in the filling).

Nursey isn’t sure what ingredient he forgot, but it was clearly one of the essential ones.

But there is one pie that actually looks…if not something that Bitty would have baked himself, at least something he wouldn’t be instantly offended to be connected to. The lid is a near perfect golden brown, with precisely spaced snips to let the steam waft gently out. The pastry is precisely crimped around the edge of the pie dish, with the excess trimmed away to leave a clean margin. The filling is sweet but not sickly.

 The decorative pastry maple leaves add a certain artistry, the main judge declares with the pleased smile of someone who knows they were created with a cookie cutter bought from his own shop.

The video of Jack being presented with an ice-skate patterned cake tin and a matching apron as he’s declared the ‘Samwell Hockey Haus Bake-Off Champion gets re-tweeted by Bob Zimmerman within five minutes of being posted, to a flurry of Twitter activity.

Lardo and Bitty were definitely not expecting their slightly-spite-motivated publicity stunt to go quite this public.

 (It was a really good pie, though.)

[olivermajor226]

Drafted Chapter 4: Preview

Up to 25,000 words, still writing. Until then, an extended preview.

Pinwheel Universe: Original Timeline, August 2008

Staten Island, New York City

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him-and I didn’t know how potent that part might be-that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

Rogue rolled her eyes as she looked up from her book, sighing heavily as she glanced around her darkened bedroom. The sun had set and the room was humid, and she was only in a tank top and underwear, lying on top of the bedspread. It was always hot in the attic and she kept the ceiling fan on constantly, not only because it had been such an unbearably hot summer, but also because the residential feline, Zues, was scared of ceiling fans when they were off. An odd quirk about the cat she was beginning to truly adore. Rogue yawned for a moment, before moving to turn on the bedside table lamp. As soon as she did, she noticed a set of green eyes staring at her from the foot of the bed, and Rogue smiled at the intruder. Zeus had made his faithful nightly appearance, rubbing his head momentarily against the side of her foot, demanding attention.

“I really don’t get what the fuss is all about,” she said out loud to the cat, gesturing to Twilight, which she had closed in frustration and plopped on the bedside table. She’d purchased the book at the Borders in Penn station as a recommendation from her coworker Carmen-oh, trust me, Marie! You. Will. Love. It!-- to read on the long rides home on the Staten Island Ferry, and so far she was unimpressed. Falling desperately in love with a hundred year old vampire. Ridiculous, Rogue thought, while she pet the black cat with the white belly, who arched his back and purred at her touch.

Zeus was technically Mrs. Mable’s cat, the woman whose attic she was currently renting. The house was a cozy bungalow, which had regrettably seen better days, settled in the heart of Staten Island. Still though, the house had good bones, which Rogue appreciated. It reminded her of the old homes on her street where she grew up, down to the antique hardware and floral wallpaper.

Just like her feline companion, Mrs. Mable had taken a liking to Rogue, mostly because Rogue paid rent on time and helped her take out the trash and would often listen to the woman’s stories of the city in the 1940’s when the woman worked for Western Union, even though Rogue had failed to tell the woman she was vastly undercharging for rent, being this was New York City. Rogue was only paying $200 a month, although that was about all she could afford from what she was making at the desk job she was currently temping at in the city. It was a long, expensive trek to work each day, and she had bought the book to get her mind off of the fact that, one afternoon, she’d glanced out the dirty window of the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty in the distance, and a cold shadow of a feeling had gripped her heart.

Suddenly, in a rare moment of conversation, the cat meowed, bringing her out of her thoughts, and Rogue smiled.

“What do you think, Zeus? Team Edward or Team Jacob?” she asked playfully as she continued to scratch the cat behind the ears, savoring the feeling of the soft fur, the body  underneath that.

She’d touched many things in the last year. She’d shaken hands and held open doors and hailed taxis, all without gloves. She’d gone dancing with Carmen. She’d kissed boys and girls while drunk. She’d hugged people. She’d casually touched them. She’d made out with some, gone to second and third base with a couple of others. She’d flirted and smiled and laughed. It had been everything she had imagined it to be, she had quickly realized. The only part she missed, of course though, was the company. She had been surprised with how long Logan’s presence stuck around in her mind after the torch, but from the day she had the injection onward, they all had disappeared, and for the first time in a long time her head was simply...empty. Voiceless. Still. At times, it was still disconcerting. Rogue alone in this tiny bedroom apartment with the seventies avocado-green kitchen and the bubbling wallpaper and the hallway that smelled like cat litter, but it wasn’t Westchester, and that was enough.

Rogue frowned at the thought. It took two days after she’d come back from taking the cure. Bobby had kissed her, and the look on his face told her he regretted it. Perhaps she’d known it from the beginning, how he’d react, but it was everyone else who made it hurt worse. Jubilee was fake around her, Kitty stopped speaking to her. She had even remembered Logan barely acknowledging her, walking around with a dead look in his eye, although Rogue assumed that was more from the events that had transpired in San Francisco than anything else.

After the funeral, she had gone to bed exhausted, and sad. And, when she had woken up the next day, she knew he was gone. Not Bobby, but Logan. No goodbyes this time. No dog tags to be handed off. She knew he had one foot out the door already, but...she would have thought he’d at least warn her. Say goodbye. And she knew, this time, he was gone for good.

It wasn’t long after that, she left too. She couldn’t face them, couldn’t face it. But, of course, away from the shelter of Xavier's, she had no money. It was rough, in the beginning. She’d been beyond lucky to find the posting of Mrs. Mable’s room, and she thanked the world for small favors. Slowly, as spring became summer, she found steady work, and steady friends, and her fears eased. She stopped seeing herself as the other, and, instead, the same as. And that was also enough.

--

The next morning, she frowned slightly at the book, but decided against her best judgement to take Edward and Bella with her on the ferry. She rolled her eyes through most of it, and by the time she got to the office, she dreaded talking to Carmen about whether or not Bella had made the right decision to stick with the vampire. Luckily, however, they were busy today, so Marie forced a smile on her face, tucked in her cheaply made button down shirt into her black slacks, fixed her headset in her ear, and pretended not to be tired as she answered the phone for HR at the pharmaceutical company in midtown she worked for.

“So are you coming out on Friday or not?” Carmen said after a particularly long phone call, before downing half a bottle of Evian. Rogue shared a cubicle with Carmen, a desk on either side of the eight by eight space. Carmen was a beautiful woman of Italian descent with a thick Long Island accent who had immediately taken a liking to Rogue when she first arrived there. Carmen had helped Rogue learn the ropes, and Rogue knew Carmen found Rogue ”exotic” because of her southern accent, and was always trying to set up Rogue because of it. Carmen was also always drinking water and chewing gum between calls. “To get the bad taste out of my mouth when I deny another claim,” she explained one day to Rogue early on.

“I don’t know. I’m kinda tired this week. It’s been a long one,” Rogue said about the weekend, cracking her knuckles as she glanced at the time. 3:22pm. Ugh. Time didn’t move fast enough inside a cubicle.

“Well, you should come out because I have a date,” Carmen said, a spark in her eye. Rogue laughed out loud at this, shaking her head.

“Why would I wanna come with you on your date, hun?” she asked, and Carmen rolled her eyes.

“It’s not a date date. I’m...checking him out. Meeting him and his friend for coffee. I could use a wing woman. Rosalie from payroll is setting me up with him. He’s her cousin, or something” Carmen said, and then, looking around the cluster of cubics and leaning in a little bit over her desk she dramatically, “I guess the word is he’s a mutant.”

Rogue almost spit out the gatorade she had been drinking, but managed to swallow and feign...surprise? Funny thing was, other than the rising anti-government sentiment, most humans out in the real world didn’t think twice about mutants, not their plight, their struggle to be accepted, none of it. Marie had been shocked to find this out, but, after some time, she had come to realize it was always this way with a group of people who had privilege over another- the privileged group never thought it was that big of a deal and it couldn’t be that bad for them. Anyway, this news was surprising coming from Carmen, because she usually liked the blonde, athletic, cookie cutter type.

“That so?” Rogue finally asked.

“Yeah. Apparently...he has a tail,” she said, winking.

“Why does that matter?” Rogue blurted out, before she could stop herself, but then Carmen was grinning.

“Girl, use your imagination. Think of the sex,” she grinned, and Rogue must have made a face because Carmen was frowning.

“Didn't take you for a speciesist, lady,” Carmen said through a pop of her gum.

“I’m not-” Rogue sighed, but then Carmen threw up a finger, spit her gum out, and raised her eyebrows. Rogue frowned, but then turned to see their boss walking down the hall toward them. Mr. Henry MacIntire, Vice President of Human Resources,  was a studious looking man, fairly young for his position--Rogue guess early thirties at most--always dressed nicely, with a pair of tortoise shell glasses settled on his nose that Rogue found herself taking a liking to. He was polished, poised, a gentleman, she thought upon meeting him. Unlike Nancy who was in charge of the Admin assistants, he was never gruff with the underlings, never condescending or patronizing, and he always checked in on all the HR staff from time to time, but especially Rogue. To the point where Carmen had suggested maybe their boss had a thing for her, which Rogue had immediately shrugged off.

“Hello ladies,” he greeted them, stopping for a moment to hover outside their cubicle.

“Hello Mr. MacIntire,” Carmen smiled her brilliantly white smile, and Rogue simply nodded at him.

“Busy day today, yeah?” he said, directly addressing Rogue.

“Uh, yeah,” she muttered, through a quiet smile. “You too?” she asked and he grinned.

“The worst,” he said, his blue eyes dancing behind his glasses, and she found herself a little lost for words as he focused on her.

“Oh, Marie,” he finally added, extending a file folder her way. “ Do you mind sticking around a little later today? I need you to make some calls. We need to extend invitations to the additional names listed here for the web seminar on Friday, sort of last-minute. I hate to put this on you, but I trust you to get it right,” he said through an honest smile, and when Rogue found herself taking the file folder, she noticed their fingers just momentarily brushed, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her. Of course, he was completely fine, hadn’t even likely noticed it had happened.  

“Of-of course, Mr. MacIntire,” she finally said, and, again, he smiled at her and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Thank you, Marie. You’re the best,” he replied, and then, just before he was about to walk down the hall, he stopped, turned on his heel, and added, “Remember what I told you both. Call me Henry,” he smiled.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Henry,” Rogue murmured, and then he was nodding and Rouge watched as  he walked off to his office down the hall. She smiled a bit, and when Rogue turned back to Carmen, the other woman was grinning devilishly at her.

“What?” Marie asked defensively.

“Nooottthhinnngg,” Carmen said, before holding up her finger as her phone began to ring. Rogue frowned a little, before turning back to the manilla folder. She opened it up to look at the list of names, mostly other HR heads of other pharmtech companies, only to notice there was a post-it note on bottom of the piece of paper with a note scrawled in Henry’s handwriting.

I really do need to thank you for doing this. I know it’s annoying to ask you to stay late. Maybe wanna grab a drink with me sometime so I can make it up to you? My treat. - H

Rouge’s smile widened as she quickly closed the manila envelope, grinning like an idiot now, just as her own phone began to ring again. But even the ringing telephone, even the bad novel on her desk, even the long ferry ride she’d have home tonight, sailing alongside the memories of her past, memories of him, couldn’t shake her current mood, as she set down the folder and put her headset back on, answering a little more cheerfully than normal with her rehearsed response.

“Transigen Incorporated, Human Resources Division. My name is Marie. How may I help you?”

[inkdrinkershadowsinger]

Thoughts/ Background Half Blood Prince

A smash and grab for Ollivander. Not one person in this stunned group tries to shoot a stunner at these people or stop them in any way.

I am taking this way too seriously, but…. Muggleborns are the bridge between the Muggle and magical world, and the death eaters are attacking a bridge. Voldemort seems to want total separation between Muggles and Wizards, but he also wants to subjugate Muggles. Having these peaks of the Muggle world, and the destruction that wizards can cause is a great way to emphasize the delicate balance between the two worlds.

This obviously also takes place after 9/11. It would make sense that these people were more thinking towards terroism than anything supernatural. Anything could easily be blamed on that. Or faulty construction.

Hottie waitress is trying to get it from “Go”, and I don’t blame her. But, she is way too cute for his ass.

You would think that Harry would be more cautious, but then again, what easier way to fool a group of death eaters then to ride the London Underground for hours at a time.

Why would Slughorn make it look as if this house had been attacked? Why not just make it look like it had been burglared? It specifically looks as if it had been attacked. There are scratches and holes on the walls, everything is askew like hexes had been flying.

When I first saw this movie, I thought that it was a huge waste of time to see all of this magic, but now, I look at these big displays of magic and am just in awe. I love when we really get to see what magic is capable of that is more than just cursing someone else. The scene in Crimes of Grindlewald while he escapes at the beginning is one example of a huge display of magic that is both interesting and epic.

Voldemort knows what Slughorn has in his mind. They weren’t trying to recruit him, but to kill him.

Even in this picture of Lily, she looks way older than what she should be.

Dumbledore is a master manipulator. Throughout most of the series, Dumbledore refers to Harry as “Harry”, but in Slughorn’s presence he constantly refers to him as Mr. Potter to emphasize to Slughorn the prize that is before him.

Yes, Harry, you will not be messing up the fan’s OTPs today.

The Weasleys must have felt very comfortable with all of the moving staircases in Hogwarts based off of the look of the Burrow.

This is one movie where Harry and Ginny exhibit some chemistry toward one another.

Ron just casually going to touch Hermione’s face. They say that people will only let others who they are truly comfortable around to touch their face. The same goes for the attempters…. Lol

I love that Harry is barefoot in this scene. It shows that he is comfortable, and that he feels at home.

There is an old fashioned lamp on the desk which is lovely.

Mrs. Weasley was around for the first war. She didn’t participate in the Order the last time, but now, she knows, she has inside knowledge, that things are moving in the darkness. And she is rightfully terrified.

Snape’s village here is cookie cutter in the same way that Pivet Drive is. Though, Pivet Drive is clean and bright while Snape’s town is dingy and smoke ridden like there are factories or something similar nearby that is polluting the air.

Snape’s house would look like this. Floor to ceiling books. No personal photos. Dark. Two candlesticks that don’t count as bobbles because they are functional.

At this stage, Snape has fully returned to Voldemort. He also knows that Sirius isn’t the one who betrayed Lily, but that it was Wormtail. But, he can’t outright kill Wormtail because Wormtail went and performed a valuable service to the Dark Lord. So, Snape does the next best Slytherin thing and decides to torture Wormtail by making him serve him. Now, Snape has Wormtail as his personal servant and play thing until things finally break. It is no more than Peter deserves tbh.

Narcissa is the epitome of pureblood etiquette and style. She is politely making small talk with her host while Bellatrix is in the background snooping in Snape’s stuff.

Bellatrix was one of those rich girls who stole petty little objects whenever they can get their hands on something. Voldemort and her must have bonded over this.

Bellatrix lets out a snore when Snape talks about Dumbledore. She must have heard this reasoning for Snape’s supposed loyalty one too many times. She suspects heavily that Snape isn’t quite what he seems. She also resents him most likely for the closeness that he has with her master.

Snape allowed himself to be goaded into this. He invited it when he mentioned that he could help them in the first place.

The statue outside of the shop in Diagon Alley. So clever.

The twins are top level business men here. No more orange bell bottoms for these two.

Every thing is just orange and yellow and bright.

They already have on assistant. Good on you, boys.

“I will have order.” Someone really should make sure that Umbridge was sent one of these before her arse was packed off to Azkaban.

The twins are litearlly living their best lives here. Business is booming. Surrounded by people. Spreading mischief even after their school days are over.

Harry gets things for free because he financed this shop.

Harry is like, “Wait, what about DEaN??” Where was all this great acting and connection when it came time to film Seven and Eight?

Cormac ain’t a bad catch. He is very traditionally handsome.

Brown, I see your arse. You best sit down. This is not going to end well for you.

Fred and George’s shop probably has been warded to the nines from their good and yet to be introduced brother Bill.

You see one Fenrir Greyback poster in a dark alley. One: So, the film makers are sure that we know who he is. Two: This is the level with which the ministry has hunted for criminals compared to the nearly every square surface and newspaper add ins that Harry’s face get plastered on in Deathly Hallows.

Draco, even here seems to exhibit a lot of reluctance.

Draco is a smart guy. Like, I don’t think that can be denied. He wouldn’t have been able to do what he does in this movie if it wasn’t for some modicum of intelligence.

I like that movie Harry is really supportive of his friends.

Ginny and Luna BFF’s in the making.

Dean, I see your arse.

The one time ever that Harry James Potter was right about something.

Ron and Hermione should have known that Harry was up to something.

I have a feeling that more fuss from the others wasn’t made about the darkness powder probably because since they boarded the train that was about the fifth time they had seen some sort of Weasley product go off. And though, this is a compartment full of Slytherins, the odds are that at least some of them have their products in their bags as well.

Draco, however, is finally aware that stuff is really kicking off, and he is rightfully suspicious.

I don’t know if this was an intentional choice, but Draco’s appearance in this movie speaks volumes about his mental state. He looks thinner than he has in the other films, and then also, the lightness of his hair adds to the gauntness of his face.

He is sitting in chair 14.

Harry just had to get comfortable up there. Draco knows now that he can’t trust anyone at Hogwarts. He knows that he can’t trust Snape like he thought he could. He knows that Snape is really working for Voldemort, and he now knows for a fact that nearly everyone around them aren’t as they have pretended to be for so long. Draco is in a highly paranoid state because he truly feels like he has no one that he can turn to or trust.

You can see Hagrid and Fang waiting to take the first years up to the castle.

Draco looks very satisfied with himself after finally getting Harry.

I mean, that is a viscous thing to say to anyone, but Draco is now immersed in this wizard AK wizard world. It’s a wonder that he didn’t turn Harry over right then. Why not just grab Harry, apparate, and take him immediately to Voldemort? Draco had a golden opportunity here, but wasted it because in some part of his brain he still sees this as a school boy rivalry. Or would Voldemort really put killing Dumbledore over killing Harry at this point? Was he that scared of the man?

Luna is the real hero in this scene.

Movie!Harry makes me feel way happier than book!Harry sometimes. Merely because of the way that movie!Harry treats Luna and Neville. Yes, book Harry evolves in that way, but movie Harry seems to really value these friends the way that I think he should.

The way that Draco looks at the walking stick makes me sad. You know it was Lucius’, and though Lucius is a horrible prick, he is still Draco’s father, and he needs this object to feel some sort of connection to his father.

Neville is watching Hermione beat Ron, not even blinking an eye.

You do see here, and from the first that Dumbledore has aurors now watching the school. We don’t get any interaction with them, but they are a visual reminder about what’s going on security wise.

I can only hope to crush student’s dreams like McGonagall crushes Ron’s.

This movie has so many like unexpected funny moments that make it stand apart from the book in a way that the other films don’t.

So, we are saying in this film that Katie Bell is in the same year as Harry, Ron, and Hermione? I don’t know why the filmmakers settled on this. This is a Padma in Gryffindor situation again.

You really only noticed Hermoine’s bedraggled appearance here, but several of them are looking worse for wear.

I always got the feeling that Dumbledore was trying to make up for some lost time here. He largely ignored Harry in the last movie. And Harry has lost those people in his life who would event think to question him about his love life. Dumbledore is trying to make some connection with here. He misses the mark trying to connection with him in this manner especially about Hermione, but it is still very interesting.

Harry is just like, “Um, no.”

I think this interaction makes Harry feel better though. It makes him feel like he isn’t just being trained as a weapon, but that Dumbledore is actually interested in all aspects of his life. I can’t decide if this is underhanded of Dumbledore or not.

Okay, Wool’s Orphanage in the forties looks to be one of those horrible places. It looks like it is in the city, and away from anything green. The walls look like they are made of ceramic tile. Voldemort’s room literally looks out onto a brick wall. It rains all of the time in England. I mean, come on, this was the environment to raise a serial killer in. The room is bleak, only a bed, chair, and desk. Hardly any personal belongings.

I like Dumbledore’s look here. He is in the Muggle world, but that doesn’t mean that he needs to give up any flair.

Dumbledore read Tom Riddle’s mind. Is it legal to read the minds of young children because that’s what Dumbledore did here. How else would he have known that Riddle had those things in his wardrobe?

I don’t think Dumbledore would have done anything about it.

I don’t think that even if Dumbledore would have known what Voldemort would become I don’t think Dumbledore would have been capable of killing a child. I just don’t.

This sounds like Harry is about to be pimped out, which in a manner of speaking he is.

Most Quidditch scenes I could go without, but Ginny and Harry tag teaming tryouts. Ginny speaking up for slightly quieter Harry. Hermione in the stands. The people behind Ron fighting over the best brooms. It is just amazing.

You literally live in the same dorm as Hermione, Cormac, I mean, dang, and you have lived with her for years and years. Why couldn’t you have talked to her yourself?

Just like, what a situation to get yourself in. Hanging from the end of your broom.

Lavender is all fake concern and joy, over exerting her dang self, but Hermione is actually doing something to make sure that her man gets this position.

That couple behind the trios head are having an intense study-flirt session, and I approve.

Neville is dosing in that chair while he sits next to a dosy.

I always thought that the Gryffindor common room looked a lot like a fairytale. The walls are covered in tapestries, everything looks warm and inviting.

Ginny was raised with many, many older brothers. She knows how to get toys out of reluctant hands.

That’s Neville and Seamus going off to Hogsmeade in front of the trio?

Dean is laying it on thick!!! He is a slick git.

Ron is like, “That thought never crossed my…..oh… wait, yes, it has.”

Wallenbee…..

Poor Hermione, her feelings are about to pop out all over the place.

I always thought this scene was super cool, no offense to Katie. This just shows what kind of dark arts are currently being practiced in the Malfoy household

It looks to be a distinctive sort of necklace. If wizards thought for one second like Muggles they would have had people tracing the origins of that necklace. Straight up, old fashioned detective or journalistic work would have solved that question.

I love that Snape’s wand is black and sort of ordinary looking. It looks harsh almost in its plainness, almost like the man himself.

Harry is right.

“She’s got nice skin.”

I would want professor Merrythought’s office too. It looks amazing.

Blaise is silently judging everyone this whole time, and I am living for it.

Ginny has shown up really late for this shindig. She only shows up in time for dessert. Most people would just be like, “Okay, I think I’ll pass.”

Harry, your heart eyes are showing.

Slughorn really wants to justify himself, and I don’t blame him. It’s hard to admit your mistakes. It’s even harder to admit your mistakes when said mistake produced a mass murderer.

Ron, please get your head out of your ass. I feel bad. Hermione, like most women, build up romantic encounters in our head long before they even come due. She has done the same thing here, thinking that Slughorn’s party will be the place that she and Ron grow closer together, maybe even kiss under some mistletoe. She thinks that it will be the perfect place to launch a new beginning. That’s why what happens right after this scene with Lavender makes her so sad, because she then has to say goodbye to all of those dreams and fantasies.

It looks like a lot of the Quidditch team are sitting together in a show of house solidarity.

Ron’s like, “Thanks, Luna.”

Ginny normally sits next to Hermione in these scenes, but being with Dean, enables her to share the seat next to Harry. It probably is good for strategy talks as well. That Ginny Weasley knows whats up.

Neville is astonished at this turn of events during the match. Pleased, but astonished.

Luna is right by them in the stands. Cheering on her friends.

Weasley is our king. Weasley is our king… right until he kisses Lavender Brown, and makes Hermione cry because Hermione is our QUEEN!

Hermione refuses to chant her own future last name.

I mean, Lavender did shoot her shot. But you can see the just devastated look on Hermione’s face and even the “oh shit” one on Ginny’s.

Hermione found comfort here in something that she can do well. Magic. She’s reminding herself what she is the most thankful for here as well.

Hermione knows everything.

Hermione who knows everything just can’t believe that Ron is this dense. She thinks, at least subconsciously, that Ron is doing some of this on purpose.

Are we thinking that Lavender is Ron’s first kiss? I mean, first kisses are heady things, and he wouldn’t want to give it up no matter what until those endorphins start to fade, and then he quickly gets over it.

This is a great filing system in the library. And another subtle but amazing display of magic.

Hermione, girl, its hard when you get our feelings involved. Boys make us all do stupid things.

Romilda Vane is beautiful. She doesn’t need a love potion.

We all love Luna’s dress.

Draco, lounging in the corner.

Drapple pt. 2

If I didn’t get into a teacher’s club then I for sure would not be catering their event.

“Slippery little minx. “

This is more of that unexpected humor.

Cormac is like, “Please God, help me.”

Ginny looking fine in this outfit.

Draco, again, has lost all faith in those around him. And where good old uncle Sev might have seemed like another softer alternative to his father, now, he is no better than the rest of them. I have a post about this on my blog, if you want to read more of my thoughts on their change of dynamic.

This is the most awkward thing I have ever witnessed.

Ron looks constipated. He is just like, “Please, let this be over. Please.” He looks pained.

Harry is so uncomfortable he can barely stand himself.

Hermione doesn’t even have the perspective at this point to know that Ron is now suffering under Lavender’s attentions. She is just so pissed she can’t see straight.

A penguin dancing on a cake!

The twins have been pulling those for a while, look at all the old ones on the table.

Is that Hedwig sitting on the edge of the couch?

Remus feels so guilty over everything that he and the others put Snape through in school that he feels less inclined than anyone to believe that Snape is up to something nefarious.

Mr. Weasley knows when he is not welcome. Ron does not.

Tonk’s hair here upsets me to the extreme. Why did they intend to make this badass look like a soccer mom?

Some people are really irritated by this scene where Ginny ties Harry’s shoe, but I don’t mind it. I thought that it was very intimate. Harry, more than anything craves someone who is going to take care of him. Harry is someone who feels as if the whole world is looking to me. He also feels like he has no one that he can really lean on for support. He feels that support in any way makes him weak. Ginny doing these little things for him is something that he can accept. It makes them closer. She understands what he needs, and gives it to him. Plain and simple.

You can actually see rage here in Remus’ face. Don’t y’all tell me Wolfstar ain’t a thing.

Ginny doesn’t even think before jumping into the flames. Harry and Ginny at this point are battle tested veterans, and they have each others backs no matter what.

Greyback thinks that he is going to get an easy meal with Ginny, but Ginny isn’t a light snack hun.

Harry holding Ginny’s hand and pulling her close.

This was perfectly done by the death eaters. Draw the people outside, and then strike to destroy one of the only strongholds that the Order has.

Yes, I think Draco looks different.

Pineapple, nod to the books.

Harry unknowingly echoed Voldemort when he stayed behind after the first party.

This seems to be a very weird way to go about getting Slughorn to talk. Throughout this film, Harry tries to mimic Voldemort in the things that he said and the things that he did, but the way to get Slughorn to talk, I think, wouldn’t be to remind Slughorn about his failings through Tom, but to be the opposite of Tom Riddle, which eventually he ends up doing.

“The map is never wrong.” Like Godfather like godson.

Harry really is the dim one. He figures out Ron’s little dilemma way too slowly.

Love makes Ron cuddly. I like it.

Slughorn is a quick liar. No wonder he was in Slytherin.

Why is Slughorn just standing there? Why isn’t he reacting? Why isn’t he calling for help? I never understood his reluctance here. It makes me think that something like this must have happened in the past, and he was having some major flashbacks.

Hermione is about to throw bones in front of all these teachers.

“You daft dimbo.” Classic.

All of the teachers are listening just as intently as anyone else in the room. They love gossip too.

Harry just casually stalking Draco.

Draco feels so along during this whole experience, and I hate it for him. He’s just a kid.

“He was quickly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy.”

Why on Earth is Lavender, a Gyrffindor, sitting at a different table? And Dean? Free sitting on the weekends?

The look on Draco’s face when he sees Katie. He is glad sure that she is still alive, but he feels scared. He knows that Harry must have some suspicions, and he is terrified of getting found out. He knows that Voldemort will not be kind.

Draco goes from crying to defensive. Emotions are running high for him, and he just can’t handle them all. He is not thinking rationally.

The book here, almost seems to act like more of a horcrux, nefarious source then actual horcruxes do. It turns Harry into someone that he isn’t.

Ginny you coy bitch. Love it.

I just imagine that the way Harry acts in this scene is Daniel Radcliffe’s personality at all times.

Hermione should one day write a paper about the effects of Liquid Luck on people.

The story about the flower and the fish that Slughorn tells about Lily is one of the best add ons that the movie included that wasn’t present in the books.

Using that chosen one status right.

Lily was one of Slughorn’s favorites. She was in that middle picture on the shelf. She was front and center beside him in the photo.

Dumbledore is like, “Not now, I need to think.”

Dumbledore says that the objects to make a horcrux can be anything, but I disagree. I think that the objects have to be somehow linked to the wizard, some personal connection.

“I’ll be okay, I’ll be with Dumbledore.”

This is a startaling setting. One of the best ones in the films. We don’t go far from Hogwarts generally, but when we do it’s hardly to wild, nature ruled places like this.

I wish that we would have seen that memory from the Gaunt house. It would have been interesting to see Tom’s grandparent and uncle, his dad. It would have seemed essential to me to show Merope in this film. To see where Voldemort came from. I wish we would have gotten that.

And while we are listing some things I wanted from this movie, but never got: A classroom scene with Snape finally teaching DADA. We never even saw a hint of this or an illusion of this after the initial telling.

Dumbledore is hugging his knees, he is bunched up, and vulnerable.

This is the only time that inferi are seen throughout the series. You would have thought that Voldemort would have had more use for them in the final battle.

The choir scene here is particularly interesting. We have in our consciousness scenes from the previous two films using lighthearted music etc., and now they are singing this ominous song.

Snape is standing, looking out over Hogwarts like he does in seven pt. 2. This place is Snape’s home, and has been for years, and now, he unwillingly has to say goodbye to it.

It says something that Bellatrix doesn’t wear a mask while the rest of them do. It makes sense that Greyback wouldn’t wear a mask because he is recognizable as a werewolf, and he likes the fear that it inspires, but Bellatrix refuses to wear a mask because she is proud of her status as a death eater. She is unashamed of her place in the world.

If Dumbledore knows everything, why does he never act?

That boy that Dumbledore is talking about isn’t Voldemort, but Snape.

Harry has been hearing this whole movie that he is wrong about Draco and wrong about Snape, and then comes time for him to trust or turn against Snape, and he trusts him.

The look on Snape’s face after he kills Dumbledore is so haunting.

Bellatrix just loves causing chaos and mayhem. There is a certain kind of sick satisfaction that some people have when they destroy things that they used to be associated with. Her destroying Hogwarts is one of those things. For Draco, it Is just adding to that sick feeling in his gut.

All the lights from the wands of all of these people lifting into the sky and eating away the dark mark is one of the best moments of this entire series.

When I read that the locket was fake I was infuriated. I don’t think I’m alone.

Harry and his hero complex. He thinks he has to do everything on his own, but this proves that he doesn’t have to. He goes off together, with his friends, and even the friends that he leaves behind helps to keep everything going while the world waits on Harry Potter to save them all.

[carminavulcana]

A hint of love, a pinch of pride

For @avani008 I love you a lot and this is coming way after your birthday. But I hope you like it. You asked me for a story ages ago about the wacky world of TV serials and reincarnation. For your birthday present, you asked me to write something that would make me smile. Well, I hope this fits the fill with an added dash of VIBGYOR because it’s always Pride month when I want to be happy. 

For @bleedinknight because you like the Modern AU. For @Ratnas-musings 

Note: This story takes place before Amresh’s accident. The last installment for that story is yet to be written.  

The kitchen at the Holly’s Café was littered with rainbow glitter, “unicorn” sprinkles, and an entire set of homemade herbal organic food coloring sat in seven different flour bowls, ready to whisked together with butter and sugar.

“Chef, the yeast has risen,” the pastry chef announced.

“Chef, the sugar is ready for pulling,” came the announcement from the garnish counter.

“Chef, do you need a cup of tea?” the low, comforting rumble came from the doorway.

Devika Reddy looked up from her heart-shaped cookie cutter to see Amresh smiling at her.

“You’ve been working too hard,” he said.

“Well, that I have,” she admitted. “I could use a cup of tea, actually. But who let you in? Café policy does not allow customers into the kitchen.”

“Well, let’s just say it comes in handy to be tall, dark, and handsome.”

“Vain much, mister?”

Amresh laughed at that remark and fetched her a small Styrofoam cup filled with tea from the kitchen’s instant coffee (and tea and soup) machine.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” she asked him as she inspected the multicolored dough that was now ready for braiding.

“I will get dressed once you’re done here.”

“I am going like this. In my uniform.”

“Oh come one. There is more to you than cooking.”

“Bold of you to assume that. Nope. Today is about celebrating love. And my first love happens to be food.”

“You’re such a spoilsport.”

“Oh, come on, Amresh. Just go and get ready already. I am sure your students are just dying to see what you come up with.”

“They sure are going to be disappointed.”

“Why?”

“Because I am not going shirtless even for this event.”

“That’s a good thing,” Devika muttered. “They are minors and we don’t want teenage girls to faint at the parade.”

“You have a point there,” Amresh winked. “As long as the one woman I’m interested in, faints at the sight of my fully clothed glory.”

“Haw! This is my workplace. Besides, what if it’s a man who ends up swooning over you.”

“Great. We can have a threesome then!”

“That’s it! You’re out. Out. Now.”

She practically pushed Amresh out of the kitchen and made sure that he left the premises.

Of course, she had been so engrossed in her exchange with him that she had totally missed the amused and embarrassed grins on the faces of the rest of her brigade.

“What are you smirking at, Deepak,” she admonished the pastry chef. “We still have three trays of muffins to go before we can call it a day.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Deepak answered but the knowing smirk stayed on his face.

Two hours later, all the goodies had been baked, cooled, packed, and loaded into the truck that would deliver them to the site of the parade.

“I am going home now,” she told her staff. “You guys should also head out. We reopen only tomorrow.”

Once home, she did not take long to freshen up. A quick shower, a light layer of makeup, a button-down shirt, and a pair of ripped jeans. The only dash of color was her multicolored mirrorwork scarf. She wondered what her best friend (almost-boyfriend) was going to come up with.

After all, he was the reason they were attending pride.

She didn’t have to wait for long to find out.

The familiar honk of his car announced his arrival as she tied her shoelaces.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered under her breath.

But not even her best poker face could hide her shock.

“What the…” she exclaimed. “Oh… My God!”

“Is… um… is something wrong?” he asked self-consciously. “It’s the glitter, right? I knew I overdid it.”

“No… not at all,” she said. “I am just, you know, surprised. I think you look great. Lose the sunglasses though!”

She went around the car and made herself comfortable in the passenger seat.

As they drove to the parade ground, she took a moment to look at him, to take in all of his loud finery for Nainital’s first ever Pride Parade.

The dark blue pants were nothing out of ordinary. Even the plain black shirt looked great as it hugged his chiseled muscles in all the right places.

But his rainbow-colored shoes with golden ribbons for laces and the glittering unicorn streaks in his hair and moustache—she kind of didn’t know what to say.

What could she say when she was torn so badly between the overwhelming urge to laugh and the insane desire to throw him on the backseat of the car and rip that black shirt to shreds with her teeth.

Her time with this fencing teacher was teaching her many things. Today’s lesson was self-control!

“So, what made you do this?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Bring Pride to Nainital. This is such a small town. Aren’t you worried that people will judge you and everyone else who’s taking part in it?”

“Just because they will judge us, doesn’t mean we should stop being who we are. I am a proudly bisexual man. I shouldn’t have to hide that for the delicate sensibilities of some retired uncle.”

“But… you haven’t actually ever dated a man, have you?”

“I have never truly dated anyone, not even a woman.”

“Then how do you know you are bi? Maybe you are straight.”

“I don’t think so,” he chuckled. “I have struggled with my identity for years. And after a lot of tears, prayers, and conversations with myself, I have come to accept myself as I am.”

“But you grew up in Italy, aren’t they more accepting than here?”

“They are… but my family isn’t so chilled out. Like my mom doesn’t think I am actually bi. In fact, one time, she said she was glad I identified as bi instead of gay because then there was still hope.”

“Hope that you’d bring home a daughter-in-law instead of a son-in-law?”

“Precisely. When I was a teenager, she insisted this was ‘just a phase.’ When we visited relatives, she would tell me to stay quiet about who I liked. I remember being at some cousin’s half-saree ceremony where all the youngsters were discussing their crushes. I was the only one who couldn’t say anything because my first crush was a male.”

“Ooooo… Who was your first crush?”

“The same dude who was the first crush of most straight women and most gay men who grew up in the nineties; Enrique ‘smoking hot’ Iglesias.”

At this, Devika laughed.

“True that,” she said. “I still have my poster of him from when he came to India for that tour with Pepsi.”

“Did you attend that concert?” Amresh asked.

“Of course not,” she answered. “I never had money for things like that. But my maths teacher knew someone in the marketing committee of the concert. He was able to get me a signed poster.”

“Sweet.”

For they next few minutes, they drove in silence.

“Who is your current crush?” she asked as he pulled into the parking lot of the parade ground.

“Crush? I think I am too old to have a crush now.”

“Okay… who are you romantically inclined towards at the present moment?”

“Now you sound like Spock… or maybe T’Pol.”

“Excuse me?”

“Spock… the Vulcan science officer from Star Trek. Talks like a computer. Has elf ears.”

“Er… he’s the same as Yoda, right?”

Amresh’s eyes widened as he heard this.

“Oh. My. God. You did not just say that!”

“What?” Devika was confused and annoyed. “Look, I don’t care about Star Wars fanboys. Just answer my question already.”

“Okay, my current ‘crush’ is the lady who cleans the trophy room at my school.”

“That can’t be right. She… how… I mean, how can she be your type?”

“Why can’t she be? Classist much?”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Correction. You hate how I get on your nerves. You don’t hate me per se.”

“Listen, I know you aren’t into the trophy room lady.”

“Okay, you win. I will tell you who I like these days but after the parade.”

“No, that’s not fair!”

“It is. Now let’s get out there.”

As they walked right into the center of the parade, Devika couldn’t help but feel underdressed. Sleepy, old, seasonal, touristy Nainital had changed colors way before spring. Tibetan kids dressed in traditional garb stood with their musical instruments in a corner and played energetic, upbeat tunes while a tall, slim girl wearing a black saree with rainbow pleats danced in front of them.

“What are those instruments?” Devika asked.

“That drum is called the Madal,” Amresh answered. “It is actually a Nepalese instrument. “The lute is called the Damnyen and that fiddle is called the Piwang. Many people confuse it with the Erhu but that’s a totally different instrument.”

“How do you know this?” she was impressed by his knowledge.

“I know the musicians. We often smoked up together after their performances in the summer. They also have a rock band where they actually sing less of rock and more of pop.”

“Is there anyone in Nainital you don’t know?” Devika laughed.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you at first. And I still don’t know the owner of your café.”

“Big deal. And he doesn’t count. He doesn’t live in Nainital.”

“Sir Amresh, you are here,” a man with bright red highlights and glittery orange lipstick came running to greet them.

“Hi! Vinod, nice to see you too,” Amresh said as the man pulled him into a tight embrace. “Easy there. Don’t break my bones.”

Vinod snorted. “Break your bones? Not a chance. Those bones are made of titanium. Now have you brought your pointy stick with you?”

“It’s called a foil.”

“Yeah, the very same. And who is this lovely lady by your side. Is she my sister-in-law yet?”

Devika blushed.

“If there is one thing about you that will never change, it is the sheer amount of nonsense you talk,” Amresh’s words would have been rude in any other setting but Vinod took them in good spirit.

“I may talk nonsense, but you still need to tell me. Is she, or isn’t she?”

Devika waited with bated breath to see what he would say.

“Well,” he said dramatically. “She isn’t.” Devika sighed.

“Yet,” he finished.

She looked up.

He gave her a pointed look, and a mischievous smile.

“Oh good!” Vinod exclaimed. “Now, where were we? Ah yes, the foil.”

“Actually, I do have it,” Amresh said and opened his Prieur fencing kit that hung on his left shoulder.

“That’s your fencing stuff?” Devika asked. “I thought it was just one of your many designer backpacks.”

“It could double up as a backpack too. But this was custom-made for my equipment when I represented my high school at the European Sports Meet 10 years ago.”

“Impressive!”

“Yeah… I’m still so proud of myself.”

“Ahem,” Vinod cleared his throat to redraw attention to himself.

“Oh, sorry. You were saying something.”

“Yes, I was. Are you willing to show us some moves… you know, just a fancy little educational show for everyone.”

“Do I look like a performing monkey to you?” Amresh sounded how he felt. Offended. But not really. “On second thoughts, this could be fun,” he added.

“Aha! You can never resist a chance to show off, can you?” Vinod said playfully. “Alright, you’re up in ten.”

Devika quickly bought herself an ice-cream before finding a prime spot to stand so she could watch the action from the frontlines.

Amresh took his position in the center of the circle. He stood with his back slightly arched and his hands paused for attack. His blade arm hung motionless in the air with the foil pointing upwards, ready to strike. His eyes remained steadily trained at the crowd and a self-conscious smirk completed his act.

He made the first move; a fluid figure of eight in the air. As if in a trance, his feet hardly touched the ground as his foil snipped up festoons and leaves and ribbons that the crowd threw at him. No piece was missed. And like the compass that always points north, his eyes never left her face.

Her ice-cream dripped down her fingers as it melted in the sun.

She was eons away, watching him perform his swordplay in full armor, complete with the shield of the Mahishmati empire.

His sword cut through the bodies of enemies, his arrows pierced their hearts, and before she knew it, his hands were guiding hers to join him in battle.

But someone was shouting. What was the commotion about? Was that Kumaravarma’s panicked voice?

“Devika? DEVIKA?” Amresh shook her hard. “What in the devil are you doing?”

“Huh..huh… wha.. what?” the front of her clothes was soiled with the syrupy, sticky remains of her strawberry ice-cream. His foil lay discarded on the ground.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?” He roared at her. “Do you know how badly you could have been hurt? That blade can be lethal.”

There was pin drop silence around her. Every face in the crowd seemed to judge her. Was she mad? Suicidal? Attention seeking?

“I… I don’t know what happened,” she managed to say at last.

Amresh did not say anything. He pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Don’t ever do that again. Please. Come, let’s get you home.”

Back in her living room, he made her a cup of hot, strong tea.

She allowed the warmth of the cup to calm her frazzled nerves.

“I… I am so sorry,” she said for the tenth time. “I don’t know what happened back there. One moment I was watching you. The next, you were not yourself.”

“Not myself?” Amresh chuckled. “What else would I be? A turnip?”

“No… no…. You were in different clothing. It was a different place. Different time.”

“Oh… and what did I say to you? Come walk directly into the pointy end of my foil?”

“No. You said ‘Na dve. Manibandhan bahirmukham.’”

At this, Amresh laughed. “What language is that even?”

“You tell me?”

“Sounds like Sanskrit. But could be anything. All I know is that I have no clue what that means.”

“Whatever.”

“I know what’s wrong though,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “You’ve been watching some drama again set in ancient India.”

“Excuse me?”

“I found your Hotstar list last week.”

“How dare you?” she stood up, aghast; not only at this invasion of privacy but also because he had discovered her guilty pleasure, her secret.

“I am sorry I was just trying to access Netflix. Your new smart TV ended up taking me to Hotstar cause apparently, that’s what you watch. And well, old OLED there, is indeed a smart TV. He wouldn’t really have that title if he didn’t know what its owner wants before you can press the buttons.”

“It is clearly too smart for its own good,” she pouted.

“So why are you watching Siya Ke Ram for the sixth time?” he asked casually. “And that never-ending show about Mahadev where people cry every four minutes and 22 seconds.”

“It is none of your business,” she snapped.

“Admit it, chef, you are human like the rest of us.”

“Well, you will be a wandering spirit in the next five minutes if you don’t stop making fun of me.”

“Death threats? Already? Hello! We haven’t even gone on our first date yet.”

“I don’t care. Out of my house now. I’d like some peace and quiet. And you are not helping.”

“You want the quiet so you can peacefully watch your serials.”

“Yes, and dream about your reincarnated form. As a wild boar. In your next life.”

“Wasn’t that something we hunted together?” the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Er… scratch that! Nothing, I really should be leaving now.”

“Good boy.” She walked him to the door.

“Please take care of yourself,” he said to her as he unlocked his car. “I’ll call in the evening to see if you need anything.”

She gave him a shy, tender smile.

“I will wait for your call. Maybe if I feeling decent later, we could go out for dinner.”

“A date?”

“Maybe”

He blushed and got into his car before she could see the silly grin that had found its way onto his lips.

As he drove away, she watched wistfully from her doorway. She wasn’t sure what her strange dreams and visions were about. But she secretly adored them. She only wished she knew why and what they meant.

[lookinghbo]

'Looking' Made Raúl Castillo A Sex Symbol. Sheer Force Made Him A Star.

In New York, in the middle of July, if the fickle subway system allows it, you’d be wise to arrive at a destination 10 minutes early. You’ll need that time to let the sweat evaporate, to stamp out the damp spots that have betrayed your outfit.

Raúl Castillo forfeited his chance to cool down before shaking my hand at a Manhattan hotel restaurant on a sweltering Thursday morning. I didn’t mind. It was an honest mistake.

The “Looking” star was running slightly late and looking slightly frazzled when he bounded toward our table. He’d confused this hotel for another within walking distance where, the previous night, Castillo had attended a screening of the new Alexander McQueen documentary with his girlfriend, the costume designer Alexis Forte, who has the late fashion maverick’s biography at their Brooklyn apartment.

It’s cute to see celebrities frayed, even ones who are still building their marquee value. Castillo is the type who hasn’t yet abandoned public transportation when navigating the city, even though it’s becoming harder to do so without attracting strangers’ gazes. While trekking home from the “McQueen” event, a Latina teenager tapped him to say she loved “Atypical,” the Netflix series in which Castillo played a charismatic bartender sleeping with Jennifer Jason Leigh’s married character. The teenager’s mother loved “Seven Seconds,” the Netflix series in which Castillo played a narcotics detective tending to a racially charged investigation.

Raúl Castillo: a guy you can bring home to Mom, punctual or otherwise.

It’s his voice that people recognize, the 40-year-old actor said, a modest notion considering his breakthrough role as the sensitive barber Richie on “Looking” made Castillo a veritable heartthrob, despite the HBO show’s modest ratings. But it’s true that his warm baritone gravel is a distinguishing trait. Earlier this year, when I saw “Unsane,” Steven Soderbergh’s scrappy iPhone thriller set inside a mental institution, I recognized Castillo’s intonation before his face appeared onscreen.

That’s a significant feat. Castillo mumbled so much as an adolescent that a teacher recommended he see a speech therapist. He refused, instead reminding himself to enunciate or else using the impediment as a defense mechanism. “I have all these things wrong with my voice,” Castillo said, though few today would agree.

Castillo’s cadence may be growing familiar, but fame hardly seems like his long game. This is, after all, a guy who studied playwriting ― hardly the creative pursuit that commands the brightest spotlight ― at Boston University, after which he paid about $300 a month to live in a garage in Austin and perform local Chicano theater. “We the Animals,” a Sundance indie opening this weekend, marks the first time Castillo is the one generating a project’s star power. He portrays the father of three tight-knit boys storming through a wooded town in upstate New York. The movie, adapted from Justin Torres’ autobiographical novel of the same name, combines elements of “Beasts of the Southern Wild” and “Moonlight” to capture a domestic home life that’s equal parts tender and volatile, where abuse and affection are equally common.

Castillo’s enthusiasm about “We the Animals,” and about the possibly of again working with its director, Jeremiah Zagar (“Captivated: The Trials of Pamela Smart”), speaks to his ambivalence toward the celebrity ecosystem.

“He could be like Tom Cruise without the child slavery,” Zagar said, roasting the “Mission: Impossible” moneymaker’s Scientology association (and its alleged history of forced manual labor). “Raúl’s that kind of a dude. He’s a perfect-looking dude, and yet he’s incredibly real and honest and true. There’s never a false note. He’s also incredibly collaborative. As a director, that’s a wonderful thing. I didn’t know what I was doing, really, because I had never directed a narrative before, and Raúl had a way of making me feel comfortable and confident in my own beliefs and my own material. He’s so seasoned and so clear about what he needs to do to make a scene work and a character work and to elevate other people around him.”

It’s a small movie with grainy aesthetics and an impressionistic lyricism ― in no way the kind of thing that will make a killing at the box office. For someone who first fell in love with theater by discovering the plays of Puerto Rican and Mexican writers like Miguel Piñero and Luis Valdez in his high school library, playing the complicated patriarch of a mixed-race family feels like a destiny fulfilled. (Sheila Vand, star of the Iranian horror gem “A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night,” plays Castillo’s wife.) At this point, opportunities to extend his commercial footprint ― guest spots as a cannibal on “Gotham” and a music teacher on “Riverdale,” for example ― will find Castillo one way or another.

“I’ve always felt that I was never cookie-cutter,” he said. “For as much as I tried to fit my square peg into round holes, constantly, my whole career, I could never do it. Whenever I read ‘We the Animals,’ I didn’t think I would be cast in that film. [...] I felt viewed more as a Richie. People think I tend to find those roles easier than I do a role like this, ’cause it’s harsh. I knew that I could do it. I’m so grateful for both Jeremiah and Justin, who did see that in me.”

Born in McAllen, Texas, a midsize agricultural town that sits on the Mexican border, Castillo’s triumphs were born out of people believing in him at the exact right moments. He belongs to a first-generation immigrant family, even if home was a mere 10 miles down the road. Castillo didn’t feel othered, but his dual identity instilled a sort of anti-establishment fluster.

“I just saw a lot of bullshit in the structures that were established for me,” he said. “I found a lot of hypocrisies. People valued money, and I think when I was very young, I valued money and I didn’t have it. I think I hated myself for it.”

Slowly shedding the Catholic mysticism that once awed him, he took up bass and played in punk bands. When his friend Tanya Saracho, who would go on to write for “Looking” and “How to Get Away with Murder,” likened his GPA to a lifeline out of McAllen, Castillo decided to care about school. But in Boston, he was suddenly the minority. His “bad attitude” kept him out of second-year acting courses, until mentorship from a professor of color let Castillo understand that he shouldn’t punish himself for being subjected to an overwhelmingly white institution. And when he moved to New York in 2002, his pal Mando Alvarado, now a writer for “Greenleaf” and “Vida” (on which Castillo will soon appear), posited presentation as a mark of self-worth; if he didn’t put care into his résumé and headshot, why should anyone put care into hiring him?

Of course, when success takes years to manifest, it’s easy to forget the lessons you’ve learned. Living with four or five roommates at once, Castillo worked his way into the Labyrinth Theater Company, an experimental off-Broadway troupe founded by Philip Seymour Hoffman and John Ortiz. He still wanted to be a writer ― in high school, Castillo only ever acted to impress girls anyway ― but in 2006 he found himself starring in a Labyrinth production of “School of the Americas,” a play by “Motorcycle Diaries” scribe José Rivera. The acting bug stuck. In 2009, his play “Knives and Other Sharp Objects,” a multigenerational drama about class in Texas, opened off-Broadway, earning a mixed review from The New York Times.

Still, nothing quite lasted. The business side of things was grueling, and his coffee-shop gigs were getting old, even if he did count Lili Taylor and RuPaul as customers. An agent sent him on auditions for “huge” Hollywood movies ― which ones, Castillo wouldn’t say ― but dropped him after none proved fruitful. He was ready to give up altogether when “Looking” came around. Castillo had starred in the short film that became a prototype for the series. Its director, Michael Lannan, called him to audition for Richie (the character he’d initially played) and Augustin (a more prominent Latino character who worked as an artist’s assistant). He didn’t land either role, even though he’d originated one of them.

But by the time “Looking” was a week away from shooting, a Richie still hadn’t been cast. The producers called Castillo to read for Andrew Haigh, the gifted English director who shepherded the half-hour dramedy. Haigh had seen Castillo in an indie mystery called “Cold Weather” that gave him “street cred.” Crashing on John Ortiz’s couch in Hell’s Kitchen, wondering what else he could do with his life, Castillo was at a bar one night when he received an email with a contract attached. He had no representation to negotiate his salary, but it didn’t matter: After living check to check, he was on HBO.

“I was like, ‘Yes. Take my soul. I don’t care. Pay me. I need money,’” Castillo recalled. “I needed not just a paycheck but the affirmation. I needed something artistically that I could sink my teeth into that had value to it. Something that was substantial. Something that had a real point of view. I needed a character that gave me a platform to do what I do in a really great scale in the best way possible. And it ended up being that. That show was such a great gift to me.”

All of Castillo’s ensuing fortune can be linked to “Looking.” It made him a sex symbol, a love interest, a fan favorite, a rising star whose claim to fame meant a great deal to anyone hungry for frank depictions of queer intimacy. Richie was the good-natured, self-righteous ideal ― a perfect counterpoint for Patrick (Jonathan Groff), the series’ unsettled protagonist. It became gay viewers’ great disappointment when they learned that Castillo, their anointed hunk, was in fact straight.

“His inability to be fake as a person translates directly into his acting,” Groff said. “There is nothing extraneous or false about Raúl, and he brought a grounded, honest integrity to the character that absolutely no one else could have. He’s also just innately magic on screen and has that ‘it’ factor.”

Perhaps it was Castillo’s dual identity as a Mexican-American that helped him shine as a gay, blue-collar Californian who was sure of himself despite being rejected by his family. It’s certainly what lets him shine as the cash-strapped paterfamilias, caught between unremitting love for his kin and an inescapable pattern of violence, in “We the Animals.” This dyad comes at time when Castillo sees his identity splashed across the evening news.

McAllen houses the U.S. Border Patrol’s busiest hub for detaining immigrants suspected of entering the country illegally. While Castillo was vacationing in Europe and playing make-believe on sets, children were being ripped from their parents’ arms in his hometown.

“I would always have to explain where McAllen was, and now it’s this name you’re seeing constantly in the news for all these reasons that represent, for me, everything that’s wrong with this country,” Castillo said. “It was paralyzing. I was sitting in a beach in Europe, wondering why I deserved to be there. My parents had access to this country in ways that people who are coming from longer distances don’t. We had the great gift of citizenship, which is an incredible privilege. But my parents were immigrants, and they navigated that dynamic our entire lives. I saw my mom and my dad deal with all the insecurities and all the precarious nature of what being an immigrant in this country is. [...] Having grown up going back and forth across the border throughout my whole life, it’s disheartening and upsetting to see what’s happening. And then to think about this particular movie that deals with children, who are especially in that age when their minds are being formed and their view of the world is taking shape, to think about [the ones] locked in cages is enraging.”

Castillo may be miles from that crisis now, but he’s done more to better the world for brown people than he can know. His goal hasn’t been to diversity Hollywood roles written for white ensembles; it’s been to find work that naturally accentuates the grooves of his Latino heritage. He saw almost no Chicano role models in popular culture growing up, and now he is writing and starring in artistic endeavors that paint all shades of the human experience ― gay, poor, brown, cannibalistic, whatever ― with a dynamic brush.

Which isn’t to say everything’s gotten easy. He was slated to play the lead in “Mix Tape” (a musical drama set in Los Angeles) and appear on “One Day at a Time” (the Norman Lear reboot), but has since exited both series and would rather not disclose why. I got the sense, during our two-hour breakfast, that Castillo is still protective of how he is perceived. Maybe he always will be. He’s comfortable reflecting on his upbringing and his relationship with race ― concepts he’s spent his whole life processing ― but being candid about recent setbacks, as routinely asked of celebrities in interviews, does not yet come easy.

It’s the “ego business bullshit” that still eats at him. It’s what eats at most of us. But when someone makes a name for himself, that burden slowly fades to the periphery, replaced by a newfound comfort, even power. The man who once served RuPaul coffee now shares an agent with the drag dignitary.

“For so long, it was all feast or famine,” Castillo said. “I just took work when I could take it. And at this point, I’m in a new place where I want to be more thoughtful about the roles that I take on from here on out. The projects, the roles, the people. I’ve learned so much in the journey that now I want to apply all that and also honor my experience, because at this point I want to work with people who challenge me in all the right ways and push me to become a better actor and a better artist.”

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON NEON’S MAIN DANCE KIM MICHA...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 22 DEBUT AGE: N/A TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 15 COMPANY: Midas SECONDARY SKILL: N/A

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): cha cha (due to her passion for dance and always being on the move), 미카추 (mikachu, originates from her likeness to the pokemon “pikachu” when she attempts aegyo), 미친 (michin, used as a term of endearment, in honor of her somewhat reckless and mischievous behavior) INSPIRATION: the women in mi cha’s family have always served as her greatest inspiration. it’s hard to not want to succeed with such talented family members preceding her. she has fond memories of watching her mother defy gravity on stage in performance halls as a child and remembers wondering what it’d feel like to fly. SPECIAL TALENTS:

freestyle dance

“cola pouring” impression (x)

“human jukebox” / good at guessing song names within the first second of hearing them (x)

NOTABLE FACTS:

fluent in english

proficient in arcade rhythm games (DDR and guitar hero)

her grandmother owns a children’s dance studio in daegu

performed in a K-PAP showcase in middle school

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

her main priority as of late is a well-received debut that will, all stars aligned, snowball into a successful idol career. she anticipates management steering her in a direction that makes her image easier to manage as far as personal activities go.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

she’s ultimately determined to one day become a choreographer along the lines of lia kim and bae yoon jung and choreograph for her group, and other groups as she gains seniority. she’d also like to moonlight as a radio personality or a fixed variety cast member as a metaphorical “fuck you” to the silencing of women’s voices.

IDOL IMAGE

she’s trouble, she’s fun and sexy, reckless and unfiltered - the classic party girl type, the near embodiment of neon’s concept and she nearly doesn’t make the cut. a long list of demerits and reasons to keep her locked in the proverbial basement follow her like the train on a gown, but she’s chosen in spite of it. her deviance becomes her and her talent in dance is too good to let rot away with the less-thans. her ultimatum is this: keep your hands clean or you’re out. it’s: no scandals if you know what’s good for you and please, make them like you. it’s: remember you’re replaceable, mi cha. replaceable, they say, like there’s any chance of neon going anywhere without a girl like her.

she doesn’t care. the way she sees it, they need her more than she needs them. she knows business and she knows that cookie cutter can only take a group so far in 2019. times are changing and as far as she’s concerned, her charm precedes her.

they take the things that make her, her and decide to dial it back several notches to make her easier to swallow.

kim mi cha: family-friendly and cool. she doesn’t swear, she doesn’t party, she’s never dated but, boy, if she isn’t fun. the high school mean girl with a heart of gold all grown up and better for it. who says bad girls can’t be marketable? she’s opinionated and progressive, upbeat and fun, charming and powerful in her sexiness and her quick wit. kim mi cha: sharp and strong, a woman that girls can look up to - scratch that, kim mi cha: a woman that girls can compare themselves to, a woman that girls miles below her will want to be. she’s got that something.

listen to neon and maybe you can pretend you’ve got it, too.

IDOL HISTORY

her mother is a dancer(, and her mother’s mother and her mother, too). she’s born with rhythm in her bones and a legacy to uphold; a silver spoon between her lips and not a worry in the world thanks to her father’s fat pockets and his foot in the door of every restaurant in seoul. she wouldn’t call him a thug but, then again, if you asked where all the money came from, she’d tell you to mind your business. mi cha doesn’t pay much attention to the money anyway, it’s the only thing she knows - comfort and the inborn privilege of never having to want for anything. the trouble comes in her abilities.

she’d like to pretend that she came out of the womb with the basics down but truth be told, she struggles. as a child, she’s clumsy and nearly incapable of moving with any fluency when a song comes on. her limbs don’t cooperate despite her desire to soar and her mother nearly declares her a lost cause, enrolling her into a performing arts school as a last ditch effort to polish her jagged stone of a daughter into a gem. they sand down all of her wayward edges into something easier to build on, a flat platform of good enough to pass as decent with the reach goal of being something great. she’s not the prodigy they want her to be but she’s not a disgrace to the family line of contemporary excellency either.

and mi cha, she loves it. as much of a pain it is to learn the basics until she’s gotten good enough to tackle more, she thrives in the act of dancing. she shies away from how cliche it is to be two times the daughter of the daughter of a dancer and want to dance herself but shines when she finds her footing on the dance floor, when the squeak of her sneakers on the wax coated flooring of the dance studio she’s taught in becomes like sweet, sweet music to her ears. she gets good enough that it’s not a joke for her to make a career out of it.

initially, she auditions at midas just to be a dancer, uninterested in becoming an idol, sufficiently turned off by the diet horror stories and the dating bans that she’s already sufficiently made a mockery out of at the ripe age of fifteen, already familiar with the ins and outs of dating and sneaking out and older boys. she gets in because they see potential and to this day, she tells her friends its the worst decision they ever made.

two years into her tenure, she’s offered the opportunity to train as an idol could-be. by now already having experience doing work as a back-up dancer for company seniors like JiNX and Su.Grr, she’s a lot more confident in her abilities, a force to be reckoned with in the realm of dance but her voice leaves something to be desired. so, she’s an idol trainee - a girl group hopeful, now. she needs to be able to carry a tune, determined not to be another cliche dance only member that doesn’t contribute to the overall sound of the group. she’d be damned if she got boxed into a trap of perpetual oohs and ahs with the sometimes-promise of a dance break.

she works hard but her focus dwindles when she falls into something like love but more like infatuation with a boy, a man, really, but he’s forbidden nonetheless. she’s eighteen and stupid so she finds herself spending late nights out at clubs and bars, gay clubs per the influence of her other freer dancer friends, and she finds her spice in stolen moments in alleyways and in the tiny seoul apartment that her dad is paying for. it’s a whirlwind of sex and bad decisions and sleep drunk mornings on the subway to get to midas, to train. she’s dead on her feet in vocal lessons, inattentive and petulant to the point that her progress is plateauing. her bubble bursts when she gets caught out during a routine trainee phone check, glass shatters when one of the other trainees she’d considered a friend rats her out for partying.

they break up. (see: her training sessions and schedules are packed so intensely that she’s barely even got the time to sleep, see also: they take her phone and lock it away and swear on everything that she’ll never see him again, read: she’s put on probation and locked up in a tower like rapunzel, escorted home and back by a low-ranking manager so she’s not lulled into the illusion that she can get away with it again. kim mi cha: delinquent.) he doesn’t put up a fight. she moves on.

she can’t help the bitter feeling that settles into her stomach when aurora debuts and she’s forced to face the reality of the time she’s wasted. they’re only one girl group of many in the industry but it doesn’t matter anymore, not when she’s playing catch up with other trainees who’ve been waiting just as long for something, anything.

years pass and she’s got nothing better to do but improve and stay on her best behavior in the hopes that the strict grip will give. (it doesn’t.)

and then, by some miracle, she’s called in as a member for project n. (read: JiNX jr.) her first thought is: party. the second: a passing wish that her members aren’t a bunch of stick-in-ass prudes. mostly she’s just glad that she’ll finally get to be on stage, as the main event this time. kim mi cha: idol dancer. kim mi cha: star. she finds it a little unfair how hawk-eyed they are on her behavior like she’s the only fuck up to ever exist under their management, fat fingers pointing heavily at the dating ban and staring her down behind thin wire-framed glasses. it’s a subtle reminder for her to not fuck this one up, to behave herself because she’s not the only life on the line here.

she’ll think about it. (she tries.)