#i am just a little guy who is thrilled she got to do all those skirt patterns even if it did kill me

[lenateliier]

Maomao in various hanfu #3: Tang dynasty

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

wildest dreams - m. murdock

a/n: i have literally not been inspired for two weeks then i was STRUCK with the urge to write this. guys. i am so proud of this one i am not even going to lie. this one is dedicated to @bunmurdock because i am literally always thinking about professor murdock.... i really hope you guys enjoy this one, because i enjoyed writing it :) warnings: SMUT! inappropriate dynamic, P in V smut, so much cursing, lots of inappropriate thoughts and pining, power dynamics, dirty talk, reader does an edible and is high for a small part of this fic, reader isn't stupid in this one! she is just horny! she is also deaf, and there is yapping of readers daddy issues word count: 6.3k likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 summary: you have a huge crush on your professor and spend many days desperate for him. pairing: professor!matt murdock x hoh!reader now playing: wildest dreams - taylor swift (taylor's version) "i said, "no one has to know what we do"/his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room"

You could treat him better than any of these other horny grad students.

Seriously, that is your only conscious thought watching this man move around the front of this lecture center. You’re not dumb, you know everyone sitting here wants him—Those who are attracted to men want to fuck him and those who aren’t seek his approval. But you are built different, you’re also lacking a major sense, besides, your brain runs ramped with disgusting thoughts about the man.

Today’s focus is on the man’s outfit. It’s his last class of the day, and it shows. His clothes are a bit more wrinkled, and his hair is messier than it had been when he started the day. But most importantly, his jacket is thrown on the back of his chair, meaning you have a phenomenal view of his torso.

He wears a white button down, with the cuffs of the arms rolled up to just below his elbows, the bottom of the shirt tucked into the waistline of his pants. The shirt is tight, maybe a little too tight, especially around the arms. Maybe it’s because he works out. Or at least, you assume he works out.

That brings us to his tie. Oh, his tie. It’s nothing special—a pure black tie, just hanging from his neck. Your mind wanders. It starts at the dissection of a key court case in the subject of minimum wage, but from there, it starts drifting to his tie.

You think about the tie moving back and forth above you as he thrusts into you, brushing against your face, pulling on it to bring him closer. You think about that soft half chuckle he does, before he says something dirty like—

“Did you have something to add?” His voice right in front of you snaps you out of your trance. Fuck. You were not paying attention.

“Uh, No, Professor..” Your face is a deep red, embarrassed. You wish you could take off your hearing aids to stop listening to all the giggling from around you, from peers who are thrilled that Professor Murdock’s little (not-so) secret admirer got called out for her staring.

“Hm,” he taps the table in front of you, “Then I want you paying attention.” He says, before going back to his lecture. You could die right there. Everyone is laughing at you. He embarrassed you.

Okay, so you have no proof that he’s ever wanted you in the way that you’ve been so god damn desperate for him, but it’s still crushing that he’d single you out in that way. That maybe while you were increasingly needy for him, he found you fucking annoying, in such a way that he felt the need to embarrass you in front of your peers.

You want to melt—Melt into a puddle with just your boots and your hearing aids left behind so you never have to face him ever again. That’s why you’re so relieved when he dismisses class right on time (Well, right on time for him. He always ends class five minutes early to leave room for questions) and you quickly gather your things.

Because of the sheer level of embarrassment he has caused you, the other students in the class who want him try to flock to him, sensing that you no longer have the confidence to engage with him—But your desire is still there, as you messily shove your things into your backpack. You turn when you’re finished, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Your face is still flushed, part because you’re embarrassed, part because you are out of breath from rushing. But you are faced with the view of your professor, all alone. Your breath hitches when his hand moves up to the top of his tie, as he smooths it out, running his fingers down the fabric.

“I read your essay on the expectations of the courts and law versus the realities of it. I loved it. The argument using Gideon versus Wainwright to justify the existence of the right to counsel as a civil right and not a liberty was fascinating, especially considering your other arguments about how race, class and gender play into those realities. Well done. I thought it was some of your best work.”

Your face is flushed for a new reason now. Wasn’t this the same man who was mad at you for not paying attention?

“I thought so too.” You confess, and he just smiles. He loves that you’re confident in your work. You’ll make a great lawyer one day.

“Oh, and,” He digs through his leather satchel to pull out some notes, running his finger over the folder tab to make sure he has the right folder, “Here are the printed copy of our notes from the last few lectures.” It’s part of your accommodations that professors give you a copy.

“Thanks, Professor.” You smile gently, reaching out to take the papers. Your hands meet and as you grip the notes, the tips of your fingers just barely brush against his. Neither of you say anything. Neither of you let go.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you today.” He starts, “But you’re bright—Smarter than most of your professors, I bet. And I don’t want you to fall behind.” He says softly, and without saying it, you know he’s worried because of your hearing. He was disabled in law school once upon a time, and he recognizes your potential.

“It’s okay.” You say softly, softer than your voice usually is. “I get it, really. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He says gently, letting go of the papers now. As you clutch them close to your chest, his hand goes back up to mess with his tie again. Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know how wild it drives you? He must. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“See you on Thursday.” You agree, and that’s when you leave the classroom.

As the door closes behind you, he listens intently. He hears your nervous heartbeat, could practically feel the heat radiating off you. But he knows your routine by now. You’re about to start playing music, and he likes knowing what sort of mood you’re in as you leave his class.

A smile spreads across his face when he hears the opening notes of that new Hozier song, ‘Too Sweet’.

• • •

You are a straight A student. You study days in advance for exams, you write elaborate study guides and most of all, you do not miss class, unless you are dying (no, seriously, the last time you missed class you were rushed to the hospital, sick with pneumonia after a big exam, which you aced). So, when you’re not in Matt’s class on Thursday, he tries not to panic.

You’re a grown woman, he tells himself, and he doesn’t have an attendance policy, having told the class on syllabus day that he trusted them to know when to come to class and when they should go lay in the sun or stay home with a bad cold.

But you once came to class doped up on cold medicine with a mask on, just because you didn’t want to miss any important information. He heard it before you got to class, so he faked a family emergency to cancel class early that day. He could hear your rattled sigh of relief as the other students flooded out.

And he knows for a fact you didn’t show up today because of how fucking loud you are; You don’t mean to be, but he can hear the light buzzing of your hearing aids, and you wear these big work boots that stomp even when you’re trying to step lightly. And he heard neither buzzing nor stomps today.

Oh, your boots. He’s spent years with everything being too loud, but he just can’t help but think about the boots—What color were they? What were their texture? He has this fantasy that lives at the very back of his mind of putting you in heels, heels too big for anyone let alone a girl who only wears clunky work boots, that way he would have to help you, take care of you, and it is a fantasy that will probably live at the back of his mind until he dies.

Sure, he’d probably get married, settle down with someone his age and never worry if she might be dissatisfied with an older man, and she’ll be quiet. No hearing aids, no big boots. They’ll have kids, they’ll be happy together. He’ll still go to you when he can’t sleep, and no one will ever know.

Wait, what was he doing? Oh, right. You weren’t in class today.

His fingers move over the keyboard to look you up in the system. He clicks on the audio assistant to read him your information. It reads out your first and last name, middle initial, then your grade in his class (A+), your accommodations (Notes, time and a half, things like that), your birthday, and—

Wait, he takes a moment, and his fingers go over to his braille calendar, realizing that you’re taking a day off because it’s your birthday. A laugh escapes his lips, because how silly was he being?

His fingers move again to find your email address. He debates for a moment before adding the subject line, “Absence Today.” Then, he erases it and changes it to, “Class Today”, hoping you wouldn’t freak out before reading the email.

And just for a moment, he lets himself dream. He writes the following email to you,

“Hey, sweetheart—

Happy Birthday. I’m so happy you’re taking a break, you deserve it, more than anyone else I know. Are you doing something fun for it? Going out and getting wasted? Hooking up with some college guy who couldn’t fuck you properly?

If I could, my birthday gift to you would be a day spent with my face buried between your pretty thighs, although that might be a birthday gift to me and not to you. I’ve always been a selfish man, and you seem to be something I am entirely selfish about. I want your hands tangled in my hair, tugging on it as I taste you. I want you all to myself. I didn’t hear the buzzing of your hearing aids or the clunking of your boots, and I felt this striking yearning.

I can’t stand being around you without having you. It’s torture.

Happy Birthday,

Matthew.’

He thinks about it for a minute, before completely erasing the email, and sending you this one instead:

‘Missed you in class today! We went over the reading for Chapter Seven. Happy Birthday! Professor M’

He sends it, and then rubs his face, a long sigh leaving his lips. He is completely enamored by you, and it is so unfair.  You’d be in class on Monday, he told himself. He’d see you then, and it would be like getting his fix of you.

Then, he turns to the distraction of trying to grade papers. It won’t work. He’ll still have you on his mind all day, and there will be no relief in sleeping. Hopefully he’ll dream of that long day between your thighs.

• • •

Truth be told, you were not drinking and fucking some random guy when Matt emails you. You were cuddled up in bed, giggling and eating snacks, so many snacks, because, well, you took an edible with a bunch of your friends and now are high out of your mind.

Some animated shows are on in the background, and when your phone buzzes, you pick it up and almost melt when you see the email from your favorite professor. You start giggling like a kid, your fingers clutching your phone as you read the email over and over again.

One friend looks up to you from her place on your floor and asks, “Are you alright?”

You don’t answer at first, but then you nod, and pull your blanket close, imagining Matt’s arms around you. Your brain paints you a picture of him holding you against his chest and gently playing with your hair.

It’s a nice fantasy.

• • •

For being a law student, you really fucking hate it sometimes. Okay, that’s not true. You love being a law student and are so excited to go out into the world and make that difference. But you’d be lying if you don’t sort of contemplate dropping out and getting a sugar daddy over certain assignments.

Maybe Matt is in the market. Then you shake your head to get the thought out of there, before opening your laptop to check your professor’s office hours. The one that assigned this assignment is an old bat who does not have office hours except for during your other classes on Fridays.

Then, you look at Matt’s office hours. He has office hours right now. You click the pen in your hand a few times, thinking. Contemplating. Would he want to see you at this point? Would you be able to control yourself?

You give the question you’re working on one more time before you lean down and grab your boots, starting to lace them up. Then, you pack up your bag, heart beating nervously over what—Asking him for help with an assignment?

You make it all the way across campus, the whole time worried about if you’ll walk in on your professor with some other girl. You almost laugh at that thought, because you think you’re silly for how dramatic you are about the man.

You stand down the hallway from his office for a few minutes, just contemplating. You could just turn around and not at all open the possibility of being around him, and everything stays the same. Nothing changes, and your relationship with your professor maintains it’s strictly professional relationship.

You walk towards the door, knocking on it before holding your breath.

“Come on in,” He calls from behind the door. Now or never. You open the door, and smile in his direction.

“Hey, professor,” You greet, a soft smile on your face. His tie is loose around his neck. You blink away whatever daydream your brain wants to dive headfirst into.

“Hey,” He greets, “I don’t think you have any assignments due, so what’s up?” He asks, tilting his head in your direction. As you think about it, you realize that you do not need help with an assignment.

“This is going to sound like a lie. But I had trouble with this assignment earlier, and suddenly I walked in here and realized I knew exactly what I was doing. I’m sorry for bothering you.” You explain, but you make no attempt to turn around and leave.

“Let me guess,” He starts, gauging by what year and academic proficiency you’re at, “Professor Reid’s estate planning class? That assignment about the will and testament of an old lady with a marriage less than 90 days and estranged kids?”

You groan and take a seat in one of the chairs in his office. He laughs in response, shaking his head.

“That old bat.” You roll your eyes. He just smiles and shakes his head.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember to cheat on your final.” He tells you, and you give him a perplexed look.

“What?”

“Well, for the final, there’ll be a question about a super niche argument on inheritance. Just cheat on it.”

“You’re a professor, telling me to cheat?”

“I cheated on it,” He shrugs. You suddenly remember that he used to go to school here and has taken all the classes you’re struggling with right now.

“You’re being unprofessional.” You tell him, and he smiles again. Your heart skips a beat, and somehow, his smile grows. As if he knows exactly what sort of effect he has on you. As if this is all a game he likes to play with you, his eager and willing participant.

“Okay, forget that I told you to cheat on Reid’s exam. We have to talk about something, it would be awkward to just sit here in silence. Uh, what did you major in in undergrad?”

“English. I minored in Disability studies.”

“So why Law?” He asks curiously, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, before resting them on his desk. Jesus Christ.

“I’m tired of being poor.” The answer slips out before you can really stop yourself. He laughs again, and something in you stirs. As if making him laugh is the newest way you feel good about yourself. How twisted is that? “I’m being serious!” You laugh too, unable to contain it.

“I’m sure,” he promises, “I grew up poor too, I was sick of it too. But if you’re going to be a lawyer—”

“You need to have respect for the law and the people taken advantage by it,” You finish, “I get that, really, I do. And I want to help people. I want to go into divorce law and help all the poor and battered women like—” You’re forgetting yourself. You’re forgetting that this isn’t a date and that this man is your professor.

“Like..?” He prods you to finish, curious. He is on the edge of his seat about you. This is more than he has gotten of you in the past few weeks you’ve been taking his class.

“Like my mom.” You finish suddenly looking for something to do with your hands. Anything, really. “But the check that comes with it isn’t exactly deterring me, you know?”

“I get that,” he says earnestly, “I was an orphan, one of those dirty scrappy ones you feel bad for,” he does that half chuckle that makes you want to go over there and kiss him. “Never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was young. So, I get it. Being poor and wanting to do better for yourself. For your parent who sacrificed for you.”

But it clicks for him, the hidden meaning behind your ambitions. You have daddy issues, and he can tell that’s part of your crush on him. Though, he’ll never say it to you. He’ll let it be something unspoken between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess you do get it.” You smile softly. But this is dangerous. So so dangerous. The two of you are dancing this dangerous line—Well, more like you’re damn well dancing clear over the line and ignoring it. But you don’t know how to stop it. Maybe you don’t want to stop it.

“Well, uh, maybe you could finish that assignment while we’re here.” He clears his throat, straightening his tie and you try to connect the wires in your brain to focus on the assignment. You pull it out of your bag and place it on his desk, smoothing it out a bit. Matt gets up and starts to wander around the office, and you look at him curiously. “I think better when I can move around.”

You should’ve known that much, you have stared at him doing lectures, wandering from end to end of the rows and rows in the classroom.

“Yeah, totally,” You nod, focusing on the assignment. It’s on paper, the old bat refuses to use online assignments. You’re practically flying through the assignment, and it’s at the point where you are forgetting your company. In fact, you really don’t notice him.. Until you lean back and stretch, jumping when you realize that Matt has taken a spot right behind you, his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning forward. You’re practically leant up against him.

“See? Was that so hard?” Your face flushes, his voice right next to your ear. He has to know; he has to know how you’re affecting him. You tilt your head a bit, and your eyes are level with his chin. His stubble moves as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t smell much like anything… except the faintest hint of clean sheets and this slight scent of mahogany. It would go perfect with a whiff of whiskey.

“No,” you say quietly, and he almost shudders at the feeling of your warm breath against his cheek. “Not at all, Prof—”

“Call me Matt.” It’s almost begging. You’re kind of into it, but that’s not surprising given how incredibly attractive you find him.

“Okay.” You say quietly. He has reduced you to one-word answers. The two of you stay quiet for a while. You’re unsure what to say. Matt is contemplating his options. Anyone could walk in on the two of you like this. The door isn’t locked, and you want to bring this up, but the words die out in your throat. His head tilts a bit towards you, and you get a glimpse at those perfect lips of his.

“You know—” He starts, but before he can get any farther, you lean in and kiss him. You kiss him intensely, your hand on his cheek, and for once, you are not filled with regret at a bad decision. He doesn’t react at first, and for just a second, you’re nervous.

Then, He kisses you back, letting out this deep hum as he deepens the kiss. He tilts his head to get deeper into your mouth, and his hands make their way down to your hips. He focuses for a second, before wrapping his arms around you to pick you up and sitting you on his desk.

His hands trail down as the pair of you kiss, landing on your thighs. His fingers rub back and forth, and you gasp when he squeezes your thighs. He grins and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your clunky boots hit against his desk and he practically growls at the sound. He pulls away, his teeth biting your bottom lip as he does.

You’re completely out of breath, and so is he. He stumbles back a bit, his lips swollen and bright pink from kissing you. He wipes his mouth as he pants, and inhales deeply. You run your fingers through your hair, brushing the hair that has fallen onto your face.

“We..” he mumbled gently, running his hand over his chin. “Holy shit, kid—”

“Don’t call me kid—”

“Listen,” he goes over to you and brushes the hair from your face, “That was.. it was phenomenal, but someone could’ve walked in on that, and.. Fuck, if we do that again, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” he confesses, his hands on your cheeks.

“When I was staring off into space last week, I was thinking about your tie.” You tell him, your hands are finding the base of it now. He tilts his head, curiously.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Was daydreaming about it brushing against my face as you fuck me.” You could swear his face is red. You grin.

“Yeah?” He laughs, taking the tie from you and bringing the tie up to brush against your cheeks, “Like that?” he teases, and you laugh back. Dick.

“Mhm,” You giggle, and your hands find his, wrangling the tie out of his hands, and tugging on it, before bringing him in for another kiss. He inhales deeply as he kisses you, taking the taste of you in for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m serious, sweetheart, this is dangerous.”

“Sweetheart?” You grin. He takes your chin and grips it between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey. Pay attention.” He says, and you want to argue that saying things in that low gravely tone will not help you pay attention, but you can tell he’s serious. That he wants your attention focused on him, this is important. “Listen. I like you. I like you a lot, but we have to be careful if we want any of this to go further. We have to be subtle and watch our steps.” He says softly.

“Okay.” You promise, “Okay, we should be careful.” He smiles gently and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Good pup.” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I like ‘pup’.” You like sweetheart too, but your stomach flips when he calls you pup.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He grins. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you said we have to be careful.”

“Okay, then I’ll give you my address and you can come over.” He shrugs. “I know how badly I need you, I can only imagine how you feel.” He hums, and you grin.

“Okay, Here, give me your phone.” Matt fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. You put your number in with your name, sending yourself a quick text before handing the phone back to him. “There. Send it to me.” He steps back so you can hop off the desk, before putting your homework back in your bag.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder, he grabs your wrist in his hand and pulls you close, just to kiss you again.

• • •

Your hands are shaking as you drive over to Matt’s apartment. You’re so full of desire for him, and you take a second after parking the car to adjust your hair and makeup. Luckily you had no plans with your friends so it’s not like you’re hiding anything from anyone.

Are you about to sleep with the professor you’ve had a crush on since the beginning of the semester? Hopefully. You take a quick glance down to the apartment number he sent you before climbing out of the car, locking it behind you.

Then, you manage your way through the building, finding yourself in front of his door for the second time tonight. You hesitate. Though, you’re not sure why. Well, maybe you do. Maybe you’re terrified that this is going to be bad. Or maybe that you’re scared you’ll be bad, and he’ll hate you.

Maybe you just need to get over yourself. Although, you can’t really do much more convincing because Matt swings open the door and grins at you. You almost die at the sight of him. His tie is gone, and his shirt is unbuttoned by three buttons.

“You’re so hot,” You blurt out as you hand him a cheap bottle of wine you picked up on the way here.

“You’re cute,” he hums, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the apartment, leaving you giggling as he closes the door behind you. You look around his apartment, your eyes catching on the giant billboard. You’re standing in front of the window when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips gently kiss your neck, up and down, biting your shoulder gently. “Enamored by the billboard, sweetheart?”

“Your windows are so big, probably a lot of light in here during the day.” You say softly, and he smiles against your neck.

“Mhm, one day, I’ll fuck you against those windows—”

“Matt,” You groan, but he just shushes you and kisses your neck again.

“I know, pup,” He hums, “But don’t worry, I’ll show you a very nice time, hear all those pretty noises you can make for me.” You blush, turning to say something to him but he wraps his arms around your waist again, before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to his room. You’re laughing all the way there, before throwing you onto the bed.

“Mean.” You accuse, but he shrugs.

“You’ll get over it, sweetheart, I promise.” He hums, and you sit up on his bed. He stands between your legs, leaning down to kiss you gently, his hands finding your cheeks again. He kisses you like this for a few minutes, before slowly kneeling in front of you, never breaking the increasingly sloppy kiss. You pull away from the kiss to study him. He tilts his head, his hands finding your thighs to rub them again as he did in the office. “What?” he asks gently.

“I spent all those lectures only being able to study you from a far.. Just let me really look at you for a while..” You request. He grins gently as your fingers run over his stubble again. Your hands move up to his glasses. “Can I take these off?” You request, tilting your head.

Matt hesitates, just for a second. He’s not really used to it, to someone truly wanting to see him, every part of him. But he trusts you, wants you to see him. So he nods, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ as you pull off those circular red glasses, gently folding them and setting them down somewhere safe.

Then, you take a good, long look at his eyes. They’re this deep brown, almost black, irises that are drop dead gorgeous. The skin around his eyes is scarred, but the scars are old, yet, you rub your thumb gently against that scarred skin. You lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his eyes, first the left one, then the right one.

He leans up and kisses you after that, his hands slowly making their way down your legs. Your hands find his buttons of his shirt starting to undo them. He pulls away from the kiss, before slipping off his button up, throwing it away somewhere in the room. Your eyes drift down to these scars on his collarbones, and your fingers run over them. Then, you notice other scars on his skin, and your hands find those too.

“Your boots are so loud,” he hums, and you’re taken back by it.

“What?”

“Your boots.” He hums, “I hear you stomping around with these things on, they’re.. Like a bell, you know? I like knowing you’re around.” His fingers go down to the laces of your left boot, slowly untying them. Then, he does the same with the right boot.

He pulls off your boots, before running his fingers over your socks.

“They’re multicolored. Bright and patterned.” You confess, and he grins, before pulling them off. Then, he stops, realizing you have another pair of socks on. He blinks, before starting to laugh.

“You have two pairs of socks on?” he chuckles, your face flushing.

“My boots are just a little too big!” You tell him, and he laughs, resting his head against your thigh. He finishes taking your socks off, before working on the buttons of your jeans. When he finally gets those undone, he pulls off your pants, throwing them somewhere close to his now abandoned shirt. His hand comes up to rub you through your panties, and he lets out a scoff as he does.

“So wet for me, pup..” He mumbles, coming up to gently kiss your cheeks and then your jaw, as you whine. “I know, baby, I know,” he says softly, rubbing your clit gently. You whine gently at the feeling, gripping his wrist. He chuckles softly, kissing you to shut you up a bit.

He pulls his hand away from your throbbing cunt to pull off your tee shirt, throwing it wherever. He starts to kiss you as you fiddle with the buttons of his pants and pull them off, letting him step out of the before he casts them away.

You grin into the kiss, before he pulls away.

“What? What’s got you so giddy, pup?” he asks, a grin on his face too.

“Briefs,” You hum, fiddling with the waistband of his briefs, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Thinking about your professor’s underwear?” He teases, leaning in to bite your neck. “Dirty, dirty girl.” He grins, and you swat at his shoulder, which causes him to laugh. He likes having fun with you, even if it’s not inherently sexual.

His hands come up to run gently over your skin, trailing from your hands up to your shoulders, and then all the way to your ears, where his fingers gently run over your hearing aids. It’s a nice gesture, really, but as soon as his fingers brush over your hearing aids, you immediately retract, the feedback shooting through your skull, uncomfortably.

“Ow—” You cringe, leaning your head back to try and get away from his fingers. He cringes, hearing the feedback, not as badly as you do but knowing it’s there and that you’re in pain pains him.

“I’m sorry,” he coos softly, his fingers moving down to cup your jaw. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I hadn’t realized—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” You hum, tilting your head to kiss his palm gently. “It happens, It’s why you should never touch them while I have them on.” You shrug. He leans down and kisses your stomach a bit, before going back to kiss you again, deepening the kiss a bit before roughly shoving you back on the bed. You giggle as he climbs on top of you, caging you in between his legs, as he slips his tongue into your mouth again. He kisses you with passion and need, and it drives you entirely too wild. As he pulls away, one hand comes up to grip your chin, before he leans down with his head against yours.

“Want me to fuck you, pretty thing?” He asks gently, his voice sweet as honey as he talks so obscenely to you. You whine, finally getting what you want after weeks and months of waiting. He just smiles and shakes his head, “No, no, puppy, you gotta say it to me.” He requests.

“Yes, I want you..” You groan, bucking your hips a bit at the thought of him finally fucking you.

“Want me to do what?” he asks, innocently.

“Want you to fuck me, please..” You request, and this finally seems to satisfy him. His hand comes down to unhook your bra, throwing it behind him with the rest of your clothes, before his lips begin to travel downwards, kissing down your jaw and neck, before he’s kissing the valley of your breasts, his hand going down to rub your clit again.

He groans against your skin at the feeling of your wetness soaking through your underwear and listening to your moans. His hands begin to work to take off your panties, and as soon as those are gone, your hands come up to his briefs, wanting them gone.

“Off, off, off—” You huff, and he laughs as he slips them off. Then, he reaches over and grabs a condom from the bedside table, but you grab his hand, shaking your head, “No, no—I’m on the pill, promise.”

“You sure?” He asks gently, and you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Sure.” You nod, and then you’re kissing him again, your hand going down to stroke his cock, and he gasps into the kiss, before chuckling. He pulls away to mutter out to you--

“Needy girl,” he purrs, before moving to kiss you again. As you’re kissing, he slips his cock into you, and you moan into the kiss, tensing at the feeling, “Relax for me, pup.. So fucking tight for me.” He groans, his hand coming down to swat your thigh. “Relax.” He tells you, his voice sterner this time.

You nod, trying to form a more conscious thought than the pure bliss you feel, your hands wrapping around his neck, scratching down his back a bit. He groans softly, as he starts to slowly thrust into you. He is using every ounce of self-control he has, resisting the urge to absolutely violate you.

But he’s trying to be gentle, be nice.

“Faster,” You gasp out, your fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He does that half chuckle, and it makes you whine as he begins to speed up.

“Beautiful little pup..” he says lowly, “Been staring at me.. Wanting your professor so badly these past few weeks, dirty little thing,” he hums, “Fuck, so.. fuck..” Your legs are beginning to shake the longer and harder he thrusts into you. “So fucking good for me..” You whine into his lips as they crash into yours, one hand going down to rub your clit gently, the stimulation too much for someone who hasn’t had sex this good, ever, but especially because you haven’t had sex at all in the past.. well, six or more months.

“Matty, ‘m..” You can barely get the words out as he fucks you harder,

“I know baby, come on, cum for me, pup,” he coos, his thrusts nor rubbing slowing down, maintaining his pace. Within a minute, you’re coming with loud moans into his ears, and he’s following suit shortly after, coming deep inside you.

But for the few minutes after the two of you finish, he continues his thrusting, relishing in the pretty moans and the sound of his deep thrusts into you. Eventually, he slows down, remaining deep inside of you. He pulls you close, kissing you deeply before flipping the pair of you over, and holding your legs close to stay buried deep inside of you.

For a few minutes, there are no words spoken, just deep, frantic pants and sweaty skin against each other.

“You know, that was as good as I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks.” You pant, “Better, even..” He laughs and nods.

“Me too..” he kisses you softly. “Let me take you out somewhere.”

“I thought we had to be careful..”

“We’ll go away somewhere then. Just the two of us for the weekend. I need to be with you, I can’t get enough of you now that I’ve had a taste.. Besides, I haven’t even eaten you out. Now that, that is going to be fun.” He grins, and you swat his arm.

“Evil, mean man!” You gasp, and he just laughs, kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry, pup, let me make it up to you,” he hums.

“How?”

“Calling you pup a few times, ordering Thai food and teaching you how to suck me off?”

“I know how to suck you off,” You scoff.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, leaning in to kiss him. Then, lips still against yours, he whispers, “Prove it, pretty puppy.”

[half-oz-eddie]

I am so utterly obsessed with rag-tag team heist movies so I made a Stranger things heist crew AU roster

Steve "Moneybags" Harrington's heist crew used to be a team of 2, the other being Dustin "Phisher" Henderson. Steve was the only person Claudia Henderson trusted to look after her son, and as Dustin grew older, the two of them became close friends.

Steve watched Dustin hack into all sorts of databases, uncover the truth behind town conspiracies and even hack a few of his bullies.

When Mr. harrington cut Steve off financially, he wanted to get back at him, and pull a "prank" with Dustin to empty out an offshore bank account that his father kept hidden from Mrs. Harrington.

The plan went smoothly. A little too smoothly, maybe. Or perhaps Dustin was a natural at this, that's what Steve believed. And since it was that easy for Steve and Dustin to get their hands on $1.5 Million, they decided to take their pranks to another level.

Steve proposed for their next prank, they should clean out one of Mr. Harrington's friends' cryptocurrency. He explains to Dustin how the asshole keeps his assets on a physical drive in his house that they could wipe while he was away on vacation.

Dustin agrees and suggests they bring Eddie "Safecrack" Munson into the fold. He tells Steve Eddie's trustworthy and knows how to pick locks and hotwire cars, y'know, just in case.

Eddie, of course, is thrilled by the idea. Not only does he love a little mischief, he'd love to get his hands on some money and a fast car. "However," Eddie told them "we'll need someone to drive one of those fancy cars outta there. We may be good drivers...but we're not that good. But not to worry, I know a guy."

The guy in question? Billy "Wheels" Hargrove. A California bad boy who knows plenty about fast cars and fast cash, so he's in without question. He also doesn't mind hassling pretty boy Harrington. (there's so much sexual tension between them. Billy's the one who gave Steve his code name. He said 'the hair' didn't quite fit.). But Billy's not doing anything unless his stepsister, Max "Sticky Fingers" Mayfield can come in and swipe whatever isn't nailed down for a cut.

They used to have a complicated relationship, but they bonded by shoplifting whatever Billy's dad wouldn't let them have. Max was a skilled thief. She could get out of any store with anything that she wanted, and Billy would drive away like a bat outta hell. She lifted consoles, games and even a little lipgloss, for Billy.

So their first heist goes without a hitch, and after wiping millions in crypto off some hard drives, swiping some expensive paintings and a 2020 Mclaren, they can't resist the urge to plan bigger heists together.

Billy suggests they call up his coworker Heather "Chameleon" Holloway. "She's got more wigs than personalities" He joked. When they brought Heather onto the team, she showed them her massive walk in closet, full of clothes, wigs, shoes and more. Not to mention, she could use her charm and distract anyone. Heather was bored at home, spending time perfecting her hair and makeup skills. She could change her appearance to look like a completely different person. It was all the fun she had. Her mom was always wine drunk, and her dad was a jerk who ignored her because he wanted a son, so she was happy to be part of a team that didn't treat her like she was invisible.

Under normal circumstances, they'd never spend time together, but now? They're an inseperable friend group.

They've made some friends (and enemies) in their line of work, but everyday is an adventure.

They recently took on a half a billion dollar heist job for a mysterious man by the name of Henry Creel, unaware of the dangers that lie ahead...

Tagging some people: @shieldofiron @adelacreations @dragonflylady77 @harringroveera @bigdumbbambieyes

Because I love your writing and I'd love to hear how y'all would include some other characters/ships in the mix. I just love heist AUs so much~

[blippymilk]

Veneer x Male! Reader Who’s Afraid of Fireworks

Genre: Fluff, a little tinyy tiny angst

Warnings: Reader scared of fireworks, yelling Velevet

A/N: I really appreciate all the love my page has been getting. I really didn’t expect to get this far but you guys really helped a lot so thank you!

“CRIMP!” Velvet’s shriek sent a shiver through your body, “Why do you always have to do everything wrong!” Sometimes you felt bad for the little thing. She was always under stress, and sometimes Crimp was a little annoying.

You were under the most stress however. Tonight Velvet and Veneer were holding a New Year’s (Eve) live performance. It was more of a mini performance with only 1,000 seats because the twins (*ahem* Velvet) decided they didn’t want a big concert tonight. There was also going to be a party held after the concert with close friends (surprisingly you got invited *ahem* Veneer) and they didn’t want to wait on thousands of people to leave.

Still the concert was to be perfect. The plan was for it start at 11:00pm on the dot, and the last song to end on 12:00am on the dot. It was stupid crazy but you couldn’t say that to Velvet, and no one else could either so it was settled. And after 3 hours of editing, scheduling, and moving things around, you and the crew were able to pull it off.

“Lights?” You shouted as a bright spot light beamed down on you. “Too bright, try again!” You felt the settings of the light dim a bit. “(____!)” someone called your name and you searched around the empty stage. In came Veneer out of the wings. “Oh hey Veneer…ready for your performance tonight?” You asked him, you’ve gotten a lot better at not stuttering when he’s around. “You bet I am. I’m ready for the fireworks at the end, everyone’s gonna go crazy!” Veneer said getting excited. Your face dropped a bit, the thought of fireworks didn’t thrill you too much. You hated fireworks actually. They were so terrifying and loud. You had actually gotten one of the other crew members to be in charge of the fireworks.

“What’s wrong?” Veneer asked basically frowning too. It’s crazy that it almost seemed like Veneer could read you like a book, usually unintentionally. “Oh it’s nothing Veneer.” You replied. He stared at you blankly as if waiting for a better response, “I’m…Veneer…I’m fine! Don’t you have rehearsal in like five minutes? You know you’re sisters gonna be mad at both of us if you’re late.”

“Oh she’s fine.” He replied trying to convince himself.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Um…no. I should go back .” You chuckled at his response. “But just know if you wanna talk I’m always here! Besides right now!” He said waving off as you waved back.

________________________________________________________

You watched the twins perform from the wings of the stage. You stood their with your clipboard as everything had been checked off, and the show was going accordingly. All a thousand people bought tickets and the chaos was crazy. Some people unfortunately took the media about not being able to buy tickets, some meaner than others and bashing the twins for it.

Fortunately for them they had the best assistant ever (no not Crimp). You made sure to thank those that wern’t so harsh about it, and gracefully bash those who were more ruthless.

The show was going excellent and you and the fans were enjoying every minute of it. Velvet as usual hit the hard vocals but Veneer stepped up and showed out a bit too. As if it wasn’t obvious to the other stage members why. Clearly he was trying to show out for you according to them. You denied it but couldn’t help feeling a little special when you caught Veneer looking back at you with a smile after hitting a note.

Suddenly as Velvet hit the last note from ‘Sweet Dreams’, fireworks went off in the distance not too far from the stadium. Stage sparkles also went up high without a hitch. So lost in song you had forgotten about the horrid explosions. You gasped and backed up further frop the stage, hiding your lower face with the clipboard.

Veneer cheered and waved to his fans in the audience. He was all smiles which could’ve been enough to reassure you, but the fireworks just kept going. Veneer did a little dance move and glanced back at you, his smiling dropping quickly when he saw the worry in your face. ‘Are you ok?’ he mouthed. You shook your head a little before a even louder ‘BOOM’ went off and you took off running.

Veneer had almost followed you off the stage but had forgot about being mid performance.

________________________________________________________

“I’m starting to think something is wrong.” Venee chuckled climbing up the grassy hill outside the stadium. You had ran as far as from the stadium as possible and made yourself comfortable in the grass.

“Yeah,” Veneer sat down next you, staring at you with big eyes as if waiting for you continue, “I may or may not be a little afraid of fireworks-” You were almost cut off by the distant booms of fireworks. Squealing a bit, you flinched and jumped back a bit into Veneers arms. “A little?” Veneer smirked cocking his eye brow, looking down at you.

“Oh my gosh,” you muttered realizing what you did trying to get up, “I am so sorry Veneer-” “Don’t.” He said tightening his grip around you. You didn’t want to be found laying on your client but you didn’t want to move.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve asked Velvet to cut most of the fireworks.” Veneer frowned. “I didn’t think it was that serious Veener.” You looked up at him as his frown stretched even further. “Besides, do you really think Velvet was gonna do that for you, let alone me?” You snickered, lightning up Veneer’s face just a bit.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Why it makes you so scared or…?” Veneer started again. “Nah I think we should just enjoy the moment.” “Yeah that sounds good.” You could practically see his smile by the way he spoke.

Veneer held you tight under the stars, holding you even closer by every firework going off in the distance. He’d even manage to calm you down so your jumping came to a slow. He hummed a few of his songs to drown out the sound of the fireworks which left you mesmerized.

After about a little less than a hour the fireworks had begun to come to an end. You both knew Velvet would be looking for the both of you sooner and later, and it would make it no better if she find you two together. You decided to wrap it up and head back.

“Thanks for the help Veneer, you didn’t have to. I’m pretty sure you missed the after concert party.” You said walking downhill with him, his hand in yours. “Eh it’s fine, as long as there’s some leftover pizza.” Veneer said as you laughed. “And if there’s not, we can order some. They don’t close for another 2 hours.” You added as he nodded.

You were silent for a minute before being hit with a thought, “Hey how did you even find me out here?” You questioned as Veneer’s face reddened a bit. “You get a lot done when you run around yelling, where’d he go? Where’s he at? Tell me now!” Veneer said motioning his arms in a dramatic manner. You laughed but blushed a bit when you thought about what lengths Veneer would go to to find you.

“Happy New Years Veneer.”

“Happy New Years (____.)”

[soleminisanction]

The thing I keep coming back to, now that I've wrapped up the first part of "Batgirl, Repentant" and am starting to outline the second, is how much the book's hyper-focus on Steph hamstrings the story I think they're trying to tell.

I say I think because obviously I can't read the writers' minds so for all I know they taped the random lip service about hope and justice and fighting for the little guys onto the Stephanie-love-fest in a half-assed response to criticism, but I'm trying to give them the benefit of the doubt and believe that when the first arc ends with:

And that gets followed up two issues later with Steph telling Damian:

I want to take them at their word that that's what they're going for. But it's not the story they tell at all because, for all the lip service paid, there's not a single plot point that actually backs those themes up. Every single narrative element is instead 100% oriented around Stephanie, her feelings, her desires, and her ambitions, none of which involve helping or protecting other people.

Batgirl's first appearance in issue 1 isn't about bringing hope or protecting anybody, it's about, "Ooooh, who is this mysterious new Batgirl who's such a badass but looked down on by The Man for being a little chaotic? Ta-da, it's Stephanie Brown!!"

When she talks about promises being made to her mom (by which of course I mean lies, she's just lying to her mother) or the supposed "promise" she didn't actually make to Tim Drake, it's all framed as unreasonable expectations that other people are piling onto Steph's shoulders, without so much as a second thought for how the person she supposedly made these promises to might feel.

When Cass leaves her the Batgirl costume, it's not with requests to carry on the legacy or protect Gotham in her absence or even to look out for Barbara, it's all about Cass's relationship with Bruce (as though that was ever her motivation!) and then "Now the fight is yours, Stephanie" while she vanishes into the rain in her underwear. Like Batgirl is a toy she's letting Steph have her fair turn with now that she doesn't want to play anymore.

When Steph thinks about the symbolism of the Bat and of Batgirl, it's not about how it can be a symbol of hope and protection in the darkness of Gotham, it's about how it makes her feel powerful. Even when she worries about messing up it's framed as, "Nothing I do ever ends well" and "It's just a matter of time before I get caught," not concerns about the harm her previous attempts that "didn't end well" wound up doing to other people.

And despite the fact that there's a riot going on in the next few pages, she's not inspired to go out and help with that, but to assist a single dumbass cop who got in over his head.

And then again when Babs shows up to chew her out in the next issue, it's all about Steph and her safety. "You already died" this and "You have a death wish" that. Barbara Gordon, the original Batgirl, only gets to talk about the symbolism of Batgirl as it relates to Stephanie Brown -- "Wearing that Bat on your chest might scare off the smaller thugs, but you're literally asking, no, begging for attention from more dangerous criminals. You're a mark for anyone who wants to make theirs."

Again, even the fact that she fucked up in the past and hurt people is framed around Steph -- "The last time you tried being helpful, you accidentally brought Gotham to its knees." And while Steph pays lip service to "doing this instead of sleeping" because she "thinks it's right," she doesn't ever elaborate on what exactly is "the right thing" she thinks she's doing, and it's not like she's gone out to protect people. You can't even argue, like you maybe could with the street race, that she's doing a flashy display to show ordinary people there's someone on their side -- she's beating up random goons in an isolated chop-shop.

Then of course there's the fact that nothing about Scarecrow's whole Thrill plot makes any sense because he's not being written with any kind of coherent villain motivation, it's all just being done to set up moments for Steph. Why do some of his goons decide to spike the punch at a random college party and then run away at just the right moment to make themselves look as suspicious as possible? Because Stephanie's going to be there and they need to hook her into that plot.

And when Steph argues with Babs later about why they should work together to solve this case, does she express concern about her classmates or her university, or even point out that Barbara isn't working with an on-the-street agent like she has in the past and hey, maybe you'd be a little less stressed if you had someone to share the load?

Nope. It's just "I'm just as much a part of it now as you are!"

To say nothing of my eternal, teeth-grinding frustration over Barbara's characterization. "I'm only being so hard on her because I'm jealous that she's Batgirl and I'm not anymore." Fuck all the way off, Bryan Q. Miller.

This whole thing is so bad that when you get to the climax of this arc -- when they've tracked Scarecrow and his goons to their creepy hospital lair -- the stakes aren't that anyone is in danger, or that there's any chance that Scarecrow might be able to escape in the next five minutes before the police arrive. In fact, if Steph's actual motivation was to make sure Scarecrow saw justice, it would've been a better strategy for her to stay outside watching the exits so she could jump him if he tried to make a run for it.

But she doesn't do that. Because the actual stakes for the climax of the first arc are that if she doesn't swing in and beat the shit out of Scarecrow right the fuck now, the police will beat her to it and then Stephanie won't get the credit for saving the day.

They even try to clumsily raise the stakes by implying that Scarecrow works for Black Mask, a plot point that goes absolutely nowhere because -- whoopsie -- Black Mask is dead at this point and has been since before Steph came back to life. He only ever showed up again as a Black Lantern in Blackest Night, at which point Ivy fed him to a plant.

(They did not fix this in the trade paperback version BTW, I checked)

There's some effort to turn Steph's fight with Scarecrow into something more by having him spout some weird nonsense about how he's controlling people with drugs because, "Nobody truly has a choice little girl" while she represents free will fighting back against attempts to take it away, but that's seriously hamstrung by the fact that writing is all over the place.

Like, at the start of Steph's big dramatic speech, she's all but arguing against the concept of free will, echoing an earlier classroom discussion I've bitched about before, saying that people (by which of course she actually means herself) stay when things get tough "Because we don't know how to do anything else."

But on the very next page she poses the question again and answers it with... frankly complete nonsense.

Because the point isn't actually 'control vs. free will', the whole thing -- all of the forced, misunderstood philosophy that fills out this entire arc -- is actually just repeating the same question Babs was asking earlier, this time in metaphor -- why does Stephanie keep throwing herself into danger, why doesn't she just quit?

And her answers, apparently, are, "because this is who I want to be" and "because I don't know how do anything else." Neither of which spare even a passing thought for anyone but herself, which is kind of a problem if you're trying to present Batgirl's mission statement as bringing hope to the people around her.

Then there's the bit about "facing your worst self," which refers to slightly before this, when Scarecrow drugs Steph with Thrill (a move that makes no sense in-universe because again, Scarecrow is only here to set up set pieces for Stephanie and has zero internal logic of his own). What Steph sees during that sequence is her ex-boyfriend and previous identity tearing her down and telling her that she's not good enough to be a superhero, which implies that her 'worst self' is self-doubt, or possibly "letting other people make you doubt yourself." Again -- all about her, with other people framed as nothing but obstacles to her happiness.

And just to remind you-- she has no actual reason to be here. She's not "saving the city," the city is not under threat. She's not doing anything heroic by throwing herself into this fight. She's only doing this because she wanted the credit for saving the day. That's the only stake the story ever establishes.

It's like there's this standing assumption that she must obviously want to be superhero for selfless reasons, therefore they don't need to bring that up ever and can just focus on how much she wants to be one and how noble it is that she's willing to fight through pain and hardship to be one.

But that's just not how it works? Maybe if you were still writing for the Golden Age when the storytelling was simpler and characterization was optional, but not in 2009. Part of the purpose of a solo book's first arc is to establish/re-establish the core hero's motivation and, if it's changed, explain how and why.

Just as a contemporary example -- Red Robin sends Tim Drake off on what's literally a personal quest and spends its first arc establishing how he's darker and more alone than he's ever been before... but it still opens with him rescuing a kidnapping victim, reaffirming that, whatever he's going through and whatever he has to do to accomplish his goal, he's still, at heart, a hero who will put his own needs aside to protect an innocent. That's also the role that Tam Fox essentially plays in the second arc, giving him someone to protect even when he's isolated from the normal push and pull of the DCU.

Whether you're approaching Batgirl (2009) as a new reader who's never met Steph before in your life, or as someone who read her previous material, there is nothing in this first arc, or those that follow, that establishes her motivation beyond, "I want to be Batgirl and I won't let anyone tell me no." She'll occasionally say she's being selfless and heroic, but it's not backed up by her actions or her thoughts.

Perhaps the most blatant self-contained example of this "It's all about Stephanie and obviously she's a perfectly selfless hero so we don't need to bother establishing it," mindset comes in the denouncement of the first arc. They recreate the vow in the dark -- not the most iconic scene in Batman history but still one that's well-known, a moment that goes all the way back to the first appearance of Robin, when Dick and Bruce vowed an "undying oath" to fight together against crime and corruption and never to swerve from the path of righteousness, symbolically committing themselves to act as a light in the darkness and protectors of the innocent.

Batgirl (2009) recreates this scene... by having Barbara vow to support Stephanie Brown and only Stephanie Brown in everything that she does "for as long as she wants it" so she "won't go out alone" and end up in a chair like Babs did. Meanwhile, Steph's response boils down to, "Oh yeah totes me too," because, according to the book, she doesn't need to take an oath, it's just completely self-evident that she's already made her right choice and will obviously continue to do the same forever and ever, no doubt about it.

Two extra little details scattered throughout:

Through the entire series, Steph is constantly doing this obnoxious humble-brag thing of, "I'm Stephanie Brown, and I'm just a normal girl tee-hee" over images of her doing badass Batgirl things that are obviously supposed to be ironic, and she always uses her full name. The trade paperback version is literally called, "Batgirl: Stephanie Brown" because there's nothing else to say about this story. Tim Drake: Robin didn't use his full name this much and it was actually in the title.

And that's not even getting into how often they waste entire pages on splash images of just... Stephanie. Not Stephanie doing anything special, just, Stephanie, and we're supposed to be very awed and impressed by her because she's Stephanie Brown and she's Batgirl now wowie wow wow.

That one tiny little caption box in the upper-left corner of the last page of the storyline? That's literally the first and only time that the concept of "Batgirl makes sure everyone gets home to see tomorrow" is ever mentioned.

This his is all just the first storyline. This same pattern continues on into the rest of the book, only getting worse as they add in other Batfamily member guest-stars for Steph to show up and prove wrong, and stock civilians who do nothing but shower her with praise and adoration. The tiny little sprinkles they offer up of, "Oh yeah I'm doing this to bring hope to the people of Gotham!!" just don't compare to deluge of "Steph gets to be Batgirl because she wants to be Batgirl, that makes her the coolest motherfucker on the planet, and if you disagree you must be sexist."

---

TL;DR (and sorry this got so long) -- Bryan Q. Miller et. al seem to be either under the impression (or want to give the impression) that they're telling the story of Stephanie Brown, the plucky young girl who never gave up on her dream of being a superhero no matter the haters or setbacks she faced, and how seeing her succeed despite being so average and relatable inspires other average people to have hope and fight for a better tomorrow.

But the story they actually tell is of Stephanie Brown, a teenage girl utterly obsessed with becoming a superhero to the exclusion of all else, including her own well-being, future, and relationships with her friends and family, apparently just because she likes the way it makes her feel, has no self-control and can't imagine herself doing anything else, who is applauded and cheered for this by everyone she meets, save for a small handful of haters who are just there to be proven wrong, beaten up, or both.

The first could've been a good-ish story -- ish, because it doesn't actually engage with Steph's previous characterization, but that's a different post -- but it's just not the story they told.

[mercurygray]

Hii could I pls request #26 "The smell of Cologne/Perfume on warm skin" for Cord and Bucky? 👀 — @shoshiwrites

She'd never had an issue with the commanding officer before, but Cord was quite sure this was verging on ridiculous.

It was one thing to be told to show up to a party - that was well and good. She could do her hair and fix her dress uniform as nicely as the next girl.

But to be told she had to dance? And with him?

"Don't worry," Major Egan said, obviously just as thrilled as she was with the direction the evening was taking. "I won't get any ideas. It's one dance, not an engagement. In five minutes you can go back to hating me."

The band was playing something by Benny Goodman and of course, no sooner had Harding issued his order but they'd switched to slow songs. It would have been fine if the CO had made the observation that Cord hadn't gotten a dance and left it lie, but then he'd added that he would be damned if chivalry on his base was dead, and ordered his former Air Exec to get the Lieutenant a turn around the floor, and there had been snickers.

Cord had to admit, grudgingly, that she'd wanted at least one dance. But she wasn't partial to the way she'd got it. Or the man she was getting it with.

Benny Goodman was making her think of home, and dances at the Legion Hall downtown and airmen who were away from home for the first time getting anxious about asking the shop foreman's daughter for a dance. Nights that smelled like cheap cologne and gardenias and the faint tang of spilled whiskey, even if the dance was supposed to be dry. She'd gotten her first kiss at one of those dances - Tom, a tall skinny fellow from Indiana. She wondered where he was now, whether he was still flying.

None of that, however, helped her with Egan - or the matter of the next four minutes - but she wanted, in this exact moment, to make sure they got something straight. "I don't hate you, Major."

"Really? 'Cause you got a funny way of showing it."

It was true. She was not the man's biggest fan. John Egan was loud, and frankly full of himself, and the world's most devoted flirt, but she didn't …hate him. That just wasn't true. Disliked, strongly, but not hate.

But how to explain that to him? "The first time we met you called me gorgeous."

He scoffed. "And? It was true!"

Cord felt herself go red. "But you call everyone gorgeous," she pressed on. "A Lieutenant would have been nice. I'm an officer- just like you. I worked hard for it, and everyone seems to forget that." Including the CO, it seems. I'm not just here to be an easy date. "Everyone respects a pilot. It's different for us. If you'd walked all over me…then they all would have. Sir."

John Egan might have been many things, but stupid wasn't one of them - and while he could be loud, he could listen, too. For a moment it was just the two of them and the Goodman in the background. "Seems I owe you an apology, then, Lieutenant. For forgetting my manners. I think I've done okay since?" She nodded. "But I stand by the gorgeous comment," he added, almost forcefully. "A man's allowed to say things that are true. Or am I cutting in on some guy back home?"

Cord suddenly felt a little pale, and extremely mindful of just where they were, and who she was with, and who might be watching them, and the feeling of Egan's hand wrapped around her own, the other decorously between her shoulder blades, the smell of his aftershave musk and faint sandalwood. "No, no… guy back home." Certainly none calling me gorgeous. Dozens of airmen who'd been happy to take a dance or two on a Friday night, but never anything… serious. Not when they were always moving on to something else. "And you?" She asked, trying to be polite.

He chuckled. "No one would have me." His smile was just this side of reckless, and she had a hard time believing what he said. You mean to tell me all the girls in Nebraska don't have eyes? You've never had a problem getting a date here. "And it didn't feel right," he added, almost as an afterthought, "to tie a girl down like that. At least not yet."

"She'll be lucky when you find her, sir."

He murmured assent. "Does this make us square now, then, Lieutenant, or can I expect to keep getting shut out of the tower?"

He was fishing now, and she knew it - the ground between them felt thin and she didn't like the feeling. "I'll keep shutting out anyone trying to be a distraction," she said, as fairly as she could.

He smiled at that, and Cord felt something in her chest soar up seeing that smile before it fluttered back down again. Oh, he's not that charming, girl, some small part of her sneered. You've just been out of the game.

The song wrapped up, and the two of them broke away to clap for the band and go their separate directions. "Do you need a drink?" Ann asked, steering them towards the bar without waiting for the answer.

No, Cord wanted to say, following her friend. But I think I need my head checked.

[ohlovxr]

the one where layla first sees you (+ bonus: the one where the plan is made

masterlist | series masterlist

It’s Layla who notices you first.

She’s coming home from work at the early hour of three thirty, when you’re moving in.

A deal that fell through because of a rumoured raid had left her without work for the day. It’s rare, but watching you struggle with your boxes makes her feel like her circumstances are almost meant to be.

“Here.” Layla swoops down and relieves your aching arms of the heavy box. “You look like you could use some help. And a drink. Been at it all morning, yeah?”

You laugh breathlessly, “Yeah. My roommates - they’re at work.” You cross your arms over your chest, giving another breathy laugh. She can tell you’re feeling more insecure than imposed on. It takes you a minute and you only stare at her during it. “The… Thank you, um…”

“Layla.”

“Layla.” Your eyes flutter nervously. “That’s a pretty… pretty name. Layla. It’s Arabic, right? I mean it could not be, but it’s just that you look- I mean, like… you know what? Nevermind.”

You laugh nervously, eyes shifting away from her in embarrassment, and Layla tries so very hard to keep the amused smile just begging to break free off her face. “Don’t worry. It is. I am.”

“Right.” You swallow, nodding in what Layla could easily presume was self reassurance. “Right.”

Silence took up the space between you two for a moment before Layla broke it, slowly losing her battle with the amusement she felt trying to physically manifest onto her face. “And you’re…”

“Oh!” You perk up suddenly and give her your name.

It’s pretty. She thinks it’s fitting. She can imagine it rolling off her tongue over and over and over…

“Look.” Layla sets the box down by your door before meeting you at eye level again. “Why don’t you come to my place for a drink. My husband should be back soon enough, and we’ll help you with the rest.”

“Thank you. So much. You’re so nice but I can’t ask you both to do that. Besides,” you shrug as your mouth opens and closes, reaching for something to say, “It’s not even noon.”

“Fine, coffee then.” Layla challenges, a smirk gracing her face. “And Marc really won’t mind, trust me. He’s going to love getting to know our new next door neighbour as much as I am.”

You look at her with hesitation, gnawing at your lip anxiously, before a little smile finds its way onto your face. “I’d love to get to know you guys too.”

“Then it’s settled.” Layla boldly grasps your hand and begins to pull you towards her and her husband’s shared apartment. “Now, how do you like your coffee?”

You were everything she hoped for and more.

From your sense of humour and your laugh to your aspirations and the twinkle that sparks in your eyes when you talk about them; everything Layla had anticipated off first laying eyes on you a couple hours ago.

Your humility, empathy, and caring nature; everything you so pleasantly surprised her with.

Anyone else aside her husband would ask how she could possibly know the extent of those things about you. They’re characteristics that hold so much weight, so how could Layla have possibly figured out your heart was made up almost entirely of the three?

Greedily, she notes how your face flushes when she compliments your shoes on the way into her apartment and are oh-so-quick to offer the name of where you got them from. Even still, your eyes widen after you say it. “Only if that’s your style, duh! I don’t wanna push you to, ‘cause a compliment doesn’t always mean, uh, you know… anyways.”

Cockily, she notes how your eyes widen with curiosity and ears perk up as you listen to every word she speaks with the utmost of attention and care.

With awe, she notes how you rush to her side to grab the cups of coffee in her hands just as she’s walking over - how you manage to express empathy for the roommates that didn’t bother to schedule a single day off to move in and left you to it all while you were heading over to the couch.

Thrill fills her chest when she hears the door open.

“Hi, honey,” Layla leans over the couch as she calls out to him, speaking over his hummed Hey, baby, and looks over at you again to see your lip tucked anxiously between your teeth, “How was work?”

a few weeks later

“I don’t like those roommates of hers, Marc.”

Marc hums at his wife’s hushed remark, smoothing your hair down with his hand. There, you lay sleeping with your head in his lap, tears drying on your cheeks. Layla drapes your legs over her lap with care once she’s sat next to her husband on the couch.

A pause fills the air between them. The hand rubbing your shin pauses when Marc asks calmly, “Is it love or an obsession, Layla?”

She scoffs a laugh, “Be my guest, and tell me the difference.”

Marc sighs, and that forces her eyes to squeeze shut. “I love her.” Her eyes open to find his boring into her. “Everything about her, and because I love her, I want her.”

He looks away, only for Layla’s next words to pull him back. “I know you do too.”

Marc rolls his eyes, frustrated. His wife knew him well. “So, what?”

Whether it be the slightest shift in volume of his voice or the way his body rumbles when he speaks so urgently so suddenly, you shift in their laps as a soft whine escapes your lips.

They both pause and wait until they’re sure you’re still fast asleep in their arms.

“It would be so easy.” Layla urges. She points to their front door. “All she has are those- those idiots, Marc.”

She lets her hand drift down to your ankle. Marc watches as you’re held with possessiveness. A dangerous kind. “We could have her. Easily. Happily.”

Marc takes a moment, looking into his wife’s eyes to find nothing but a darkened look in them. It was one of the traits they shared. One of the things that made them so compatible. “We can’t make any mistakes if we don’t want any fighting.”

It starts with learning everything they can about you. Of course, anyone has to know the basics before moving onto the big thing. That, though, means Marc has to take on a delicate feat to collect all that they need.

What makes breaking into your shared apartment a sensitive matter isn’t the risk of someone catching him.

No, Layla specifically had you over for an impromptu movie night under the guise that came out as, “I know it’s sudden and weird to just ask you to hang out like this. We don’t actually know each other. But Marc’s at work and assuming those roommates of yours are too?” When your head nodded at that, his wife completed her part of the plan. “Why would we both sit in our apartments alone when we can relax and have some fun together?”

What made breaking into your apartment so difficult was making sure he left it exactly the way it was when he broke in. Marc’s not an idiot nor is he a slob, but three women living in close quarters in what looks to be a messy yet in its own way organized apartment? Him so much as putting back a hairbrush wrong could start a did you use my shit? kind of argument and risk you getting the slightest bit suspicious when accusations and denials get thrown around.

So, he’s careful. Does the two things he came for with care; take a couple notes and leave behind a small something to keep an eye on you.

He finds out that you really don’t have family near you. Your textbooks say you’re here for school and your uniform speaks to how you work at the restaurant he and Layla like to eat at every now and then.

You’re simple from this perspective. Cute and manageable. He’s only glad that he didn’t find-

“Great.”

He cuts off his own train of thought after opening your bedside drawer. Condoms and birth control pills.

Marc closes his eyes, frustrated, and takes a breath before reopening them. He doubles back to your dresser. He skips over all drawers except for the one dedicated to your pajamas. At first, he thought they were cute and just like you. You’ve got matching tank top and shorts sets in all sorts of colours and designs. Long, fluffy, and kind of ridiculous looking pajamas for when winter comes knocking, too.

Now, flipping through the drawer more carefully, he finds a couple shirts tucked away in there.

Marc could stand there, now holding the shirt out in front of him, in denial. He could assume you bought the oversized shirt for yourself because it’s comfy.

But he’s the one who told Layla that they couldn’t be stupid about this, and now he’s forced to face the fact that there’s got to be a body to bury before they get yours.

With their endgame in mind, Marc couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 2: The Mechanic

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Summary: You get to know the Crest, surprising the hell out of your host.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence, Reader has hair long enough for a braid. uhhhh please advise if there's more to add here thank you

A/N: Hi! To say again, I am completely new here. I am just a struggling writer with a brittle heart and this little story has lifted me out of a block the size of a small moon (that's no moon). Here on A03, I just got encouraged to share here. And in terms of Star Wars canon and mechanics stuff, I'm just making it up, friends. Hoping it's still a fun story like its inspo.

--

‘Dank farrik,’ he – Mando – mutters, punching at the pad until it lights up.

The ship had been cruising at sublight for a while, you assume so that your pilot could chart out courses or whatever. Navigation was never your strong suit.

‘I will need to make a stop,’ he says. It’s not apparent whether he’s talking to you or himself. ‘These blast corners are not going to last the journey.’

You sit up. What are you doing? You ask, ‘Do you have the parts?’ 

‘Yes,’ he says absently. ‘But it is a specialised process. In cases like this, I take the Crest to a dock.’

‘I could replace them.’ Shut up.

He doesn’t register you for a long beat. Then looks over his shoulder. ‘What?’

‘I can replace them for you.’ You can’t stop yourself. 

‘And you know,’ your eyes roll around the cockpit. Why are you about to say this? Keep it to yourself. But you’d been noting little things to keep yourself occupied and, for some reason you don’t scrutinise too closely, you want to let this guy see you for who you are.

‘That transition from atmo would go a lot smoother if your power didn’t have to divert through the drag shafts. A little rigging, a simple program, and it can pass straight through the core. Smooth as.’ 

His whole upper body turns toward you. 

‘And,’ you lean forward, ‘I bet those thrusters were last serviced on Navarro?’

A heavy pause.

‘They were.’

You sniff, knowingly. ‘Don’t get me wrong – can’t fault those mechanics much – but for some reason they insist on four cylinders for every row. Is it cultural? I don’t know. But it just gums up the rotation. You only need two.’

Finally, he rotates his chair, facing you. He leans forward on his elbows.

‘How do you know all this?’ You hear what he doesn’t verbalise, You’re a wealthy, spoiled heiress who’s never known a day’s work.

You just keep a level look on your face. ‘I’d rather keep that to myself, if it’s all the same. Cards close to the chest and all that. But I can be more helpful than just sitting here. I can help out around here, show your ship some love.’

He huffs and leans back. ‘Right.’ He turns back to the console.

‘Okay,’ he comes to a decision. ‘I have to pick someone up anyway. We will land and you can make the replacements while I retrieve him.’ You’re wondering to yourself who this ‘him’ is when Mando spins back around, you jump a little. His voice is fierce. ‘But if you mess up my ship, I will leave you on the most backwater planet I can find. And Mandalorians have extensive nav maps.’

He turns.

Mandalorians? Hm.

--

The sense of relief felt at seeing the child Grogu again is still thrilling to the buttoned up Mandalorian. The kid is cooing in Peli’s embrace, who in turn chatters away. But the moment he clocks Din walking toward him, the child reaches up and – whoosh – is in his arms again.

‘Hi Grogu,’ Din’s smiling behind the mask, ‘were you good?’

‘Total angel!’ Peli shouts. ‘Bye baby!’

When he returns to the ship an hour later, with provisions and a babbling kid, he’s expecting to see you fumbling around an input hatch. But you’re nowhere to be seen.

Din turns to his son. ‘Grogu, there is a person on the ship. I am confident she is no threat to us, so do not worry, but please play nice.’

The baby squints and blows a mischievous little raspberry. Din sighs, oh well.

But where were you? Hells, if he’s lost her already…

He scans the hatches that house the blast corners; they are all neatly clipped in place. Even the one that had always stuck out a bit and would rattle in dodgy atmo entry was sealed flush against the hull.

He frowns. 

On entering the ship, he hears the quiet hiss of the fresher. She’s helped herself to his amenities? Damn Maker, he thinks. His resentment lessens considerably though when he drops into his cockpit chair, the child wandering up behind him, and engages the test switch for the blasts. The light flips on instantly. The diagnostic scans green. The diagnostic never scans green.

He’s staring so hard at the panel that your bright ‘Hey!’ from behind makes him jolt.

You’re pulling damp hair into a loose side braid, strolling into his space.

‘Sorry, that was oily work and I figured a wash up was a fair trade,’ you’re saying. You seem like you’ll go on but you trail off when you spot Grogu, who for his part is giving you his most doe-like, glossy-eyed stare. ‘Hi there…’

But Din’s distracted. She’d changed all four corners with enough time to spare for a jet stream? And they were responding better than they ever had? In the whole time he’s owned the Crest?

‘Woooo, hahaha, oh wow you’re a cutie!’

Your voice brings him back to himself and he’s stunned again to see you kneeling by Grogu, the both of you laughing and playful as you swing the bottom of your braid while he tries to catch it. The kid’s giggling. 

Grogu catches your braid, you let him, and toys at it tentatively, cooing away. You look up at Din, smiling.

‘This who you had to pick up?’

‘Yes,’ Din barely gets the words out. ‘This is my son, Grogu.’

You look back to the gremlin who has your hair. ‘Hi Grogu, charming name you have.’

Grogu looks up at you with a happy ‘ahh!’ and drops your braid.

Din doesn’t know how to feel about any of this.

The innocuous little light blips in his palm. He glares at the fob while an internal battle rages. It is a bad idea, but Din knows in his gut he probably won’t get a better opportunity than this one. A huge bounty so elusive he’d been carrying the damn – infuriatingly silent – fob with him for an age.

Now here it was, blinking to life. He looks over at you.

You’re snoozing in the flight chair, elbow crooked on the arm rest and knees tucked in. He’s remained perplexed by how at home you’ve looked on his ship. Not only that, you’re a savant with the thing. You’d made good on adjusting the exit power flow already, and the Crest was practically singing for it.

You’re nothing like what he was expecting. But you were still a job he had to finish. No question there. 

This bounty though… 

As if sensing his fitful inner conflict, you stir. Rolling your head up and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you hum to yourself.

‘Mm, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to doze off there,’ you say, sitting straight. You take in the ship’s stationary mooring, systems in standby. ‘Where are we?’

‘Nowhere special,’ he says. ‘But…’ 

You clock the blinking fob he’s holding. ‘Ooh, that a job?’ 

You seem… all lit up by it, Din thinks. Worlds but you are strange.  

Without any real fight left, the war inside him ebbs and he gives in to the pull.

‘It is, a big one,’ he holds out the fob. ‘It’s not far from here, and should not take me long. I will lock down the ship; you will be completely safe.’ 

You sit forward. ‘I could come with,’ you say, eagerness in your voice.

‘Absolutely not!’ He stands, scandalised by the idea. ‘You will stay here, in the cockpit, until I return.’

He may have laced his tone with too much menace, because you lean back in the chair and drop your gaze. 

Regretting it, he sighs and drops back into his flight seat, turning to the controls. ‘Your safety is more important,’ he whispers. You stay quiet on the descent and landing.

It’s only when Din summons Grogu to his side as he readies that you speak up.

‘You’re taking him?’ you exclaim. ‘Your kid?’

‘He is in training,’ Din says, offering no further explanation. Grogu, for his part, wanders over to you, babbling away. He reaches up and touches your knee; you lean down and scratch his ear, mumbling something like ‘keep him out of trouble then, hm?’

Din takes in the scene, something pricking at his chest.

‘Grogu, let’s go.’ He turns and knows the child will follow.

Just this job, he tells himself. Then he’ll take her home.

- - 

Listening to the whir and grind of so many locking mechanisms engage and clunk into place settles a weary sense of dread over you. You’ve been here before, stripped of volition and made to stay in place.

You decide to be bored and restless instead of anxious and afraid.

Looking about the tiny space, your eyes land on the code pad by the door. You’d noticed the release switch catches a little, and Mando has to jab at it twice or thrice each time it’s used. You can fix that.

Casting about, you find a little stash of tools under Mando’s seat. Perfect.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take much time and you end up dithering a little, readjusting the light sensor as well so it actually responds to input. 

Just as you’re tucking the pad’s cover back into place, a long slick of ice slides down your spine as the ship groans. The lockdown is disengaging.

‘He can’t have been that quick,’ you say aloud. 

You move to the front of the ship and spot two gruff and burly henchmen striding toward the Crest. A glance at the ship HUD shows the ramp to the hold gliding open, lowering steadily to let the invaders inside.

‘How’d you get onto this ship,’ you spit a few minutes later, wiping a bound wrist at your bloodied lip.

Your dazed victim grunts and rolls his head from left shoulder to right. From his place crumpled against the wall, he looks over to his unconscious companion and then up at you. ‘Fuck you, bi—’

You slam onto your knees across his hips, lock your hands together and swing them across his face. Gods it hurts, you’re not usually a puncher. But your hackles are raised and you know something is badly wrong.

Lucky for your almost lacerated knuckles he gives up immediately.

Hands fly into the air. ‘It’s a trap!’ he yelps. ‘An- a- an- ambush! Cephlate knew he would come. He hates Mando. Wants- wants to end him. He’s got tech to control the ship and he’s going to lure him into—’

You hit his carotid artery and he’s lights out. Time’s up. You surge to your feet and move.

--

Everything had been going wrong since the second he’d breached the perimeter. There were more enemies than he was expecting. They had better weapons than he’d anticipated, fucking artillery. He and Grogu had worked as a team as best they could, but the forces were overwhelming.

He hadn’t even had time to zero in on that stupid fucking warlord. Hunched behind a low building, he scans the hacked layout of the base via the holo of his vambrace. He spots a building built like a bunker and, thank the Maker, underground access – a tunnel that barrels off the edge of the plans, presumably out of this hellish place.

It’s fine, he’ll get back to his ship and come back ready for war. 

‘Let’s go kid!’ He shouts and he sprints for the doors. Grogu follows, leaping from cover point to cover point.

Wrenching the doors aside just enough for the two of them to slip in, he jams a vambrace against the control pad and programs them to seal. Twisting to lean back against the wall, he surveys the room and his heart stops. He swears he is hallucinating.

Din stalks forward and leans over the rack of servers.

‘What are you doing here?’ he hisses at you, crouched as you are by an open panel bristling with cables and blinking lights. You’re holding some complicated looking motherbank. ‘I told you to stay on the ship.’

You take a handful of wires and reef them from the bank.

‘Yeah, well,’ you say, not looking up. ‘Couple uninvited guests dropped in and told me about this.’ You shake the device in his visored face.

‘Uninvited what?’ He checks behind him, unholsters his blaster. 

‘Guests. Couple of your quarry dearest’s goons.’

Din is speechless, then, ‘How’d they get inside the Crest? Ground security was active.’ A massive boom rings against the sealed doors.

‘Because of this.’ You shake the object again, pulling a tiny pair of pliers – his pliers? – from a pocket and poking inside it.

‘What—’

‘Traction lock. Writ large. And I mean large. Look at this place.’ You wave a hand around. ‘Could take total control of like, an Imperial battleship with this setup.’ 

Din’s in shock, barely taking anything in. Who are you? He gives himself a shake and snaps back into focus, looking at their surroundings and assessing the best way to deal with the incoming ambush.

‘I’m decoupling your ship’s code from his systems,’ you’re saying. ‘Although it would go a lot quicker if,’ you raise your bound wrists. He notices them for the first time and leans down to cut them free. 

‘Hss, thank you,’ you say, going back to work and taking a few more moments before dropping the messy bundle of tech to stand.

‘Done,’ you chirp.

‘How did your hands end up…’ Din gestures.

‘Bit of a story on my way in,’ you say. ‘These guys have the weirdest weapons—’ You’re cut off.

- -

The doors separate and the room erupts in screaming red. You gasp as you’re picked up and flung against the wall. A heaviness lands on your chest and your vision is obscured by black and chrome crowding you in. You take in what’s happening. 

His body shields you from the pulse probe that had just been tossed into the room. His torso is flush to yours. The helmet tilts up and bumps the crown of your head. You’re completely covered by his broad form. As the pulse fades, boots thunder on the deck toward the opening. For one, barely there fraction of a second, your hips press together as he abruptly shifts and hefts you back behind the bank of servers. 

‘Stay down!’ His command sears across every point your bodies had made contact. He moves toward the formation approaching and becomes a force of nature again.

Hands free and blood singing, you think fuck it. You emerge and survey the scene, taking full advantage of the squad failing to consider you part of the fight. You spin between two while they’re focused on your escort and let fly a flurry of interjections into their joints and airways. One yelps and falls to the side, clawing at his neck. The other fares better, but only until you reef his own blaster in his hands, surprising him with his own momentum, forcing it into the open patch below his helmet and firing.

Dropping the weapon and his limp hands, you convert to a crouch and kick out. With toes pointed and bright, two sets of knees twitch the wrong way and the owners give startled shouts as your fingers find homes in significant places.

A rough hand grabs your tender wrist and you cry out. The shock lets the attacker tug you toward him, fist raised to ram into your face. You barely get your feet under yourself to duck. The swing still manages to brush by your ear, causing a burst of pain. But he’s already let his momentum carry him too far and you yank your seized wrist down so he loses centre. You get your shoulders into his groin and straighten in a rush. He topples over you and lands at a very unfortunate angle on his neck. He stills.

You whirl and register the fight is over. Mando’s whipcord snaps back into place at his wrist and he holsters a pistol slowly, shoulders rising and falling only a little. Seven other bodies surround the still and watchful figure. 

‘Five against one, huh?’ he echoes you from your first meeting.

You can only shrug.

He saunters toward you. ‘Where did you learn to do that?’

Another shrug. Man, that must be annoying. ‘Woman of mystery. Cards close to the chest. All that,’ you say.

Mando regards you. ‘Hm. I would be interested to know just how many cards you hold there to be honest.’

Would he now.

You’re about to lobby a smartass remark in deflection when his hand rises to your face. You resist the urge to jolt back, letting his palm move to hover within an inch of you. It holds there, making no move to turn into actual touch. Still making your lungs fizzle though.

‘You’re hurt,’ he says. You realise he means your injured mouth.

‘It’s nothing,’ you squeak, cringing at yourself. ‘More story for later. Seriously, I’m fine.’ You think you’re staring into his eyes, as he stares back, but hell if you could really know. He breaks away first and you exhale.

‘Time to go,’ he says, moving to the open grate you had climbed through earlier. The three of you drop into the access tunnels and move out.

--

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[cryptwrites]

i wrote this for a creative writing class so now you can have it. also my professor DOES know my tumblr. hi

CW:

To start off, the story - no the account - I am about to tell you is in no way a confession of guilt or a weight off my conscience but I need to know I'm not crazy or-or alone. I have to tell someone what happened at the Porter house..

The Porters live in a classic two story house just on the other side of town. They have… had two small children, Whitney and Jackson. Their lives were normal? I suppose? As average as they could get there.

Mr. Porter was a bastard of a man. He had rotting anger inside of him that he had slowly let consume over the past few years. Now, he never showed his anger, not to his wife and not to his kids but Mrs. Porter knew, and if she knew, the children knew. Eggshells were always walked on around their father, you could tell those kids did not fear him but certainly did fear what he could do if he ever stopped muzzling his anger.

I don't know if they ever saw, but I suppose they must have… sometimes when I would go out to get the morning paper or just to get a breath of air I could see him. Just staring. Not at anyone or anything in particular anytime, no. The subject of his gaze shifted with every day that I saw this, sometimes it was his wife… other times it was his kids. Sometimes it was a squirrel and once… it was me. He would stare with an unbroken gaze for minutes (hours?) at a time. Nothing would even happen for him to go back to normal, he just… did. Carried on like nothing else happened.

I’m not the only one who could feel it. This… off feeling to Mr. Porter and his house. You walked by and you felt depressed. Even without knowing what they were like, the house was sad. I bought my house at a lower price than anything on the market because the realtor couldn't sell it no matter what they did. I wasn't thrilled about this gloomy aura that followed me around the block but… I’m a college student who couldn't afford anything else.

Anyways, Mrs Porter was a fine woman, she was friendly but she was sad. But one day, Mrs Porter discovered she was pregnant. All the neighbors got these little flyers taped to their door announcing it. I didn't even know they were wanting a third child. Could they even afford it? Regardless, Mr. Porter began working on the nursery. He worked on this damn room day and night. I live on the other side of the street and I couldn't sleep at night from all the hammering.

Mrs. Porter started to show up less though. I thought that maybe the pregnancy was getting the better of her. I mean, she was an older woman, and the pregnancy might have just been a little harder on her now. But days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. That damn nursery still hadn't been finished and Mrs Porter was nowhere to be seen. The hammering now just had become a customary part of life, something I only noticed when I was trying to work or study. Other than that, it blended it with the other mundane sounds of life.

It was only at my neighbor's barbeque - Cher. A sweet guy who I honestly have considered asking out two or three times. Anyways at this barbeque I mentioned the Porters and how if he knew anything about the nursery or has heard anything from Mrs Porter. Cher gave me… this weird look. Half way between concern and pity. He asked if I had been sleeping well. I laughed at this and said “Obviously I haven't been sleeping well. There’s a man hammering together a room throughout the night.” Cher didn’t laugh though. He told me I should go talk to them and then wrote down the number to his psychiatrist. Pleasant.

I didn't think much of it, Cher lived two houses down, I mean, maybe he just didn't hear the incessant hammering throughout the night like I did. But I did take up his advice, so I went over to Porter's house the next day. Now, I don't know why but knocking on that door made me more anxious than I had felt in a while. Every knock took a considerable amount of effort but eventually, someone answered.

It was little Whitney. I asked her where her mother and father were. She looked at me confused, so I asked if I could speak with her father. She shook her head and went to get him. Waiting there, at that house, it felt like I was being watched. I mean neighborhoods like that tend to be very nosy so maybe I was being watched - but this, this felt wrong.

Eventually, Mr. Porter came to the door. He was wearing the exact same clothes he had been wearing the last time I saw him. I asked him how he was, how the nursery was coming along and how Mrs. Porter was. He gave me fairly generic answers of courtesy but paused when I asked about his wife. He offered to go and get her. I told him it was not a problem if she was in too much pain to walk. He laughed at this. Told me “We only just found out a few days ago. She’s more than fine to walk.” he walked away with that - presumably to get his wife - but he left the door wide open. I just stood there… had it really only been a few days? That can't be right. I had gone through an entire semester's worth of classes by this point, there was no way it had just been a few days.

Mr. Porter eventually came back and asked to borrow my phone, noting that his had died. I didn't even think about what he was asking before my phone was in his hand. He dialed a number - I, I don't know what the number is. I’ve tried calling it numerous times, but it just goes to a deadline. - he spoke on the phone for a little bit, giving his address and the name of his wife before handing the phone back to me. I asked him what it was. He said he had called the police. I asked him why. “Ms. Porter isn't here.” he said. He went back into his house without a word being said. He told his children what had happened. They both just looked at him. Whitney and Jackson did not cry. I don't know if they were just too shocked to cry or if they just… didn't. I just stood there, looking into this house and… I could swear I heard the hammering start again. Eventually the police arrived, they questioned Mr. Porter who didn't really have much to give, they talked to the kids, who were quiet. And they talked to me, who was as helpful as I could be with my now warped perception of time.

“He’s been in the house. With the children.” I told the officer. I think about it now, and I don't think in those days… months? That I ever saw him or any of his family leave his house. Not that I was looking too closely but I hadn't seen anything. The police couldn't find anything or any evidence of a crime and so they left. Mr. Porter and his children reverted back into the house, still leaving the door open. I don’t know how long I stood there, just staring into this house but I know that by the time I turned to go home it was fully dark. The hammering did stop that night, I could see them all around the dinner table silently eating. Once that was done, he led his children to bed and then went to his own.

I woke up the next day and went back over to the house - I don't know why? I just felt like maybe I owed something to the poor man. I knocked on his door, Mr. Porter answered. I asked him how he was, if there was anything I could do to help and if the children were at school. He paused at this last question again, stating that the children were on the porch. Playing. I pointed out to him that young Whitney and Jackson were nowhere on or near the porch. Mr. Porter could not say where they were. He expressed utter confusion. He once again asked for my phone, I once again gave it to him. The police did not believe him this time and arrested him. But they were forced to let him go as there was no evidence of his involvement, and was brought back home.

The neighbors avoided him, but they had always avoided him. The police would make periodic checks on the poor man but all he would do is work on that damn nursery. The hammering became louder and more violent. One evening, after several weeks of this, I walked over again. I wanted to check on him I guess. I knocked on the door, he answered. Looking the exact same he had the last two times. He greeted me, and welcomed me to his home. I hesitated, but eventually walked him. He offered me a cup of coffee, which I accepted and he offered to show me the house. I didn't really want a tour of the gloomy house I found myself in, but my mouth had other plans and agreed.

He showed me around and I soon learned that Mr. Porter no longer went to work. He did not make breakfast or dinner, he did not sleep. He just worked in the nursery. They were always a strange family, and he was always a strange man and something strange was bound to happen to them eventually, but this was not strange. This was sickeningly ordinary. Not for your whole family to go missing. That's not ordinary, but for this family, it seemed like the most ordinary tragedy that could have happened.

Eventually, we got to the nursery. I opened the door. It was heavy and hard to open, but eventually it moved. I stepped inside and everything about this nursery was bright. It was ordinary. It didn't have the gloomy feeling the rest of the house had. I stood there, looking at it for a second before turning back to Mr. Porter, but there was no Mr. Porter to look back too. I searched the whole house, calling out his name and there was no trace of Mr. Porter. So, like he had done many times before, I opened my phone and called 911. When the police got there, I told them my story and showed them the nursery. But when I opened the door to it, there was no longer a nursery. Just an old spare guest room.

Evidence was searched for, and evidence was not found. The Porter house stands empty, with all of the family’s things still inside – furniture and clothing. Even the food, rotting in the refrigerator. The Police arrested me, thinking maybe I had hurt the entire family, but of course could never nail me for anything because I didn't do anything.

This is not a confession. This is not a plea. I do not know what happened in the Porter house but I know that what happened was far from ordinary and much too ordinary. Something is wrong with that house. Something. Is in that house. I fear that something is in my house. If there was anything to be learned from this, I… refuse to learn it.

[beomgyw]

A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND

you chose to not give jintaek your number

if you’re new here, go back to the beginning !!

you hesitate under jintaek´s shit-eating grin. the kind of grin that makes you want to wipe it off his face with a well-aimed punch. "aw, cmon, pretty girl, give me your number..." he insists.

"actually, i don't need a guide. i grew up in geoje, too."

"huh? what high school?" he asks, his grin faltering a bit.

"i left when i was 13, but you probably remember me from middle school." you say, and your tone should be starting to give away that you're not that fond of him, but of course, he doesn't take the hint.

"i mean... loads of girls were into me back then, hard to keep track of them all." he retorts, more to his caveman-like friends than to you.

"really?" you raise your eyebrow. "cause i remember you used to be all about hanging out with me."

"doesn't ring a bell, babygirl, but i'm definitely focused on you now..."

"you seriously don't know who i am?"

only then does he stop, squinting at you, trying to place your face in his memory. flipping through a rolodex in his brain, looking for the right card. finally, recognition dawns on him, and his face lighting up.

"...damn. ugfuck?" he blurts out, bursting into laughter before he can even finish pronouncing the nickname.

you were naive enough to think that maybe he would've been embarrassed, that maybe he had grown a conscience or basic human decency. but when he laughed out the nickname, his friends following right after, all your confidence faded away.

"damn, girl. time really did you solid... ugfuck took our advice and got a new face." jintaek blurts out. same style of insult he used when he was thirteen. but you're an adult now, it shouldn't sting this much. but it´s not about which specific words he uses, you realize. it’s about the singling out, the humiliation. humiliation that cuts just as deep at 21 as it did when you were a kid. "you don't look like peter griffin no more, with the dorky stupid glasses and your shape like a-"

"jintaek, come on." the boy with the big eyes, who had not laughed one bit since they got there, intervenes. "you're going too far."

but jintaek doesn't listen. "i'm complimenting my girl! you remember her, don't you, terry? you were the one who recorded the video, after all..."

like a deer caught in headlights, you find nothing to say, nothing to think. your cheeks are ablaze and all you know is that you want to cry, but hate crying in public, and that you hadn't felt this vulnerable since you were a preteen.

you attempt to walk away but find jintaek standing in your way. "woah, woah, easy there. we gotta catch up! i don't give a damn that you used to be a pig, you know? i'm an open minded guy like that, doesn't turn me off or anything...." he says, hooking a finger under your chin and lifting your face to meet his gaze. you resist at first, but his grip is insistent. "that's right, let me check you out... goddamn, little ugfuck is hot now..."

"dude, enough." again, the boy with the big eyes. "you're acting like a total freak right now."

"shut up, terry." jintaek snaps, his attention turning to the boy. "you've gone all soft since you started hanging out with those wimps."

"why do you get off on harassing girls? it's messed up."

"you can fuck off if you don't like it. ain't nobody twisting your arm to stay.""

"fine."

and he actually moves to leave. he grabs his bags, he opens the door. but then he catches your eye, and some unwanted sense of duty calls. he just couldn't leave you to his mercy. he doesn't seem too thrilled about having to help you, but he does anyway.

"she's leaving, too." he says.

"fat chance."

terry rolls his eyes. "you're not gonna make me fight you, are you?" he says with absolute calm.

"like i'm scared of sheldon fucking cooper."

and, as composed as ever, he takes a deep breath and throws a punch so precise, so clean and sharp, it seems rehearsed.

jintaek hits the floor, his mouth oozing blood. the compartment falls silent. that is until he starts laughing. like he had just sniffed coke, like he had just scored the winning goal. he bursts out laughing.

"FUCK YEAH." he bellows. his friends exploding with cheer right after. "i knew kang fucking taehyun had it in him. there's a man in there after all."

taehyun, appearing more disgusted than surprised, looks at you and nods toward the door, silently urging you to follow. you grab your bag and rush out, barely able to process everything that just happened.

you trail behind him as he wanders through the aisle, lost in thought. you couldn't help but wonder what was running through his mind, figuring that he was most likely reevaluating his friendship with jintaek.

upon reaching the dining compartment, he settles into one of the booths. it’s unclear to you whether he expects you to join him or if he even desires your company at all. then, as if he had been reading your mind, he speaks. "you can sit, if you want. i'm not great at playing therapist, so refrain from telling me how you feel, for your own good. but if you don't wanna be alone, you can sit."

so, you do. after a few minutes of silence, awkward probably just to yourself, you decide enough is enough. you rise, you go to the counter and return with two cups of coffee. taehyun watches in silence as you place one before him. it is your small gesture of gratitude, the best one you can muster.

he accepts the coffee. and, suddenly, speaks. "i'm not a girl."

"you're not." you reply, puzzled.

"i'm not a girl, but i've seen jintaek torment so many of them... that i'm starting to connect with them, like, cosmically, you know?" he says. it sounds deliberately comical, somehow, but he's so serious you don't dare laugh. he continues, "when i see girls humiliated because of him, i get furious. and the more they suffer, the angrier i get," he explains. "and it's not just with girls. jintaek messes with anyone weaker than him. but girls, it's a bit different. they see through his crap and reject him. and that rejection, he can't handle. just proves he's a piece of shit. that's why he's so vile. so don't dwell on what happened today. it's not your fault. it's all him. he's just a small-minded man with a massive inferiority complex."

you gaze at him, feeling like you'd just conversed with a sage. sheldon fucking cooper, jintaek´s voice echoes in your mind. he's cool, you think. taehyun is cool.

"you're not half bad at playing therapist, you know?" you say to him, and he shoots you a death stare. but you find his tough boy facade endearing and chuckle as you take a sip of your coffee.

"do you even remember me?" he asks suddenly.

"taehyun, yes. i do."

he hesitates before saying, "i'm sorry... about everything."

"you made amends today. and you weren't as bad to me when we were kids. not like the others, at least,"

"well, i tried–" he begins to say, but you cut him off.

"at least not to me... but huening..."

his expression darkens. "i know." he mutters. "i’ve already apologised to him. we’re quite good friends now actually, believe it or not. he helped me with some things in the past. he's a good kid, huening."

with that, the conversation dwindles for the remainder of the journey. when the train finally arrives, taehyun insists on walking you to your pickup point or even offering you a ride himself, just in case you crossed paths with jintaek again. you politely decline; he'd already done enough, and you aren't keen on feeling like a helpless child.

before leaving he says, "i heard you’re gonna be staying at huening’s, so i guess ill see you around."

as you watch taehyun walk away, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. you check it to find a text notification from huening kai. "i'm here! bring the awkward on. 💪🏻"

go find huening kai.

[thegeminisage]

readers i am so thrilled to report that tng this evening absolutely ATE. i thought tng was bad but as it turns out tng is good sometimes??? we did "a matter of honor" and "the measure of a man" which are proof of fucking concept: tng CAN BE GOOD!!!

a matter of honor: this is the first time i've been really, really fond of riker. his go-with-the-flow attitude is fantastic. yeah i'll wear the slut costume on the woman planet. sure i'll eat these worms to please the klingons. absolutely i will fuck two of their women at once. good for him. i get it now. I GET IT NOW. he is not only down to fuck is is down to do any and everything. when it rome. so true, buddy. he would've eaten those worms in the conspiracy episode fr

i was just noting how pleased i was that wesley only basically had secondary lines this season ("aye sir" and the like) when they called him to the transport room, but luckily it was just to be racist to that one guy...like, it was stupid, but obviously they were just explaining why they were re-using the prosthetic which turned it around into being funny

picard turning his nose up at the klingon food. WHAT A LIMP NOODLE OF A MAN. IF RIKER CAN EAT IT YOU CAN EAT IT. kirk would've eaten it. don't worry i'm only ragging on picard for this episode he's gonna get his time

whatever worf and riker had going on in this episode was gay. ok gayboys!

riker on the klingon ship...chefs kiss...he was so good. effortlessly parrying the challenge to his authority. conniving to become captain. the word phrase "who's your daddy now" may have been uttered by one or both parties during these scenes, among incredulous laughter. i can't believe he had it in him.

oh and HOW can we forget the klingon women. i actually forgive them for not only the threesome joke but also the breastfeeding joke because they were: fucking hilarious, actually, and felt more like they were punching down at riker instead of women. also i now 100% believe he is prepared to fuck his way through any given spaceship at any time and GOOD for him.

the measure of a man: FINALLY SOME GOOD FUCKING FOOD

still flying high on the endorphins of riker doing All Of That we got to view the poker game, which is apparently the first of many. it was wonderful. i loved data's little visor

episode started to drag when picard's lawyer ex turned up (toscore) bc i dont (didnt?) care about him or his love life, but when maddox showed up i was on high fucking alert bc i knew the name but couldnt remember why

LISTENNN every time he called data an it i gasped. i did call him a bitch several times in a row sorry to catherine. i knew obviously that data was going to be fine but i went on this ENTIRE journey

where do i even start. data resigning rather than submitting to the procedure, his goodbye party, his goodbye to geordi specifically AND THEY SHOULD HAVE HUGGED, augh augh augh

i think it was dumb to make will be the prosecuter if he wasn't going to more actively convey his regret to the audience. all of his goodwill from the klingon ship episode was used up sooo quickly especially when he used data's off button. data doesn't like that!!!!!

i did LOVE however the conversation picard had with guinan...which is bonkers bc apparently it was a last minute addition. but her like oh yeah they're gonna make more datas. entire generations of disposable people and his lightbulb going on OH YOU MEAN SLAVERY and she's like no thats a little harsh and hes like ACTUALLY NO IT ISN'T. it was so good. for the first time tng excelled at something that tos doesn't - like it wasn't too on the nose or pointed the way grand speeches in tos were. it was JUST subtle enough and coming from a black woman who is on tng because of the black woman in tos legitimized it in a way that it couldn't have been as much if, say, picard had come to it on his own. david cage WISHES

PICARD'S EXAMINATION OF MADDOX AND SPEECH IN THE COURTROOM. DID YOU GUYS KNOW HE COULD ACT? hey. did anyone know patrick stewart can act??? he was so fucking pissed off this whole episode and it was kind of nice but like did you guys KNOW he could ACT. when he got in maddox's fucking face about it. GO the fuck OFF i have been waiting and WAITING for him to do this

i loved data's packing things coming back, esp his hologram of tasha yar...she literally took his virginity lol i miss you queen

"does data have a soul? i don't know. i don't know that i have" I LOVE WHEN STAR TREK IS ATHEIST

data forgiving maddox in a sense at the end and maddox switching to calling him he...EYE certainly don't forgive maddox but his shock was so good. realizing something you thought was an inanimate object was like, alive.

also i really like that he forgave riker...i was so relieved they had a scene at the end together and so moved that data could find compassion for him after everything he did that EYE forgave riker...data is genuinely the most loving soul wtf i'd fucking die for him. anyway that made me well up a little bit. what a great episode 10/10 this is gonna be my first "must see" i think

ok! next i do "the dauphin" on my own and then tomorrow we do "the contagion" together

[pippin-pippout]

My Demon Finale + Final Thoughts

Ok My Demon was cute. I really appreciated that the last episode was mostly all wrapping things up. We got resolution on every character, each completed their arc or did what was natural for them.

We had just the right amount of angst for this story - the villains were scary, but not enough to turn this into more of a thriller than a romance, or to detract too much from the ultimately happy ending. Sure they were nice and twisted and messed up, following the well formulated pattern. I don't need anything more.

And I really did love the 'good guy' characters in this show - I never felt like any side was getting too much attention at the cost of another or of the story.

For like the first half of this show I thought her not-cousin (you know the smart one/second male lead) was gonna turn out to be evil. Like I was convinced that psycho-dad was just a distraction. I'm really happy I was wrong. Also thrilled to see him become absolute besties with Gu-won. In fact I am more thrilled than Gu-won is.

Similarly happy for sword-dance girl, who kept saying she was leaving to the point I was like 'then why haven't you?' and then when she's about to, she finds a reason (a real reason) to stay. I feel like she and psycho-dad's wife will do a lot of good for children in the future.

Seeing the son before his dad could completely destroy him was a somewhat formulaic choice, but it's a formula for a reason, and I did really feel for him. Even before that, I had hoped he would survive. everything and be able to heal. The writing/acting choices for his character were good in that, in most of his interactions with Do Do-He, I felt like something non-villainous was behind the curtain - even before the abuse was revealed. I couldn't tell if he liked her or was trying to warn her or was looking for her to save him, but I appreciated that the reveal that he wasn't the villain actually had some foundation. I'm glad he was posthumously cleared and that his mom will hopefully learn from this shit to help others.

Eunni with her two sons continue to be ridiculous, but harmless as always. A nice bow-tie comedic moment. Sure she was one of the 'bad guys' but they're always there, and considering the rest of her family, she honestly was the most normal. And I think the narrative did try to show that she was at least a good mom.

Ms. Shin and the past lives/aka Fuck You guy! They are so weird for each other and I love that for them. Not me though. Did not need more of their makeouts. I freaking loved Ms. Shin throughout everything though. Such a good balance of no-nonsense with compassion.

Our comedic relief third wheels - the PR trio and the dogs/parsnips - both fun. The ex-mob brows definitely won for me (they did have a dog). Every time Gu-won wouldn't acknowledge them my heart broke a little. Glad the writers understood that and gave us their happy ending.

I liked this portrayal of God. Very 'I don't know what the fuck is going on either but good luck' with a side of compassion rather than just dropping riddles and life lessons (those were learned along the way anyway). Felt more realistic.

And for the main couple, I'm happy we got to see their version of a silly fight, because couples fight, and that makes me believe their happy ending more (also so thankful to have a show with a demon main character have his love interest play hymns and prayers when they're arguing).

I really thought when Gu-won came back, he'd be human, and it'd be all 'perfect.' But I kind of love that he's a demon and the little-shitness of his character as a demon (yet is afraid of pissing off his wife who puts stickers on his demon manual). Also good for Do Do-hee having a demon on speed dial is useful af.

Anyway, they established that she'd continue to age and eventually die, and that it was ok because impermanence is what makes this, and every moment, so not insignificant. I felt like he would happily accompany her beyond when the time comes, but for the time being they're able to live knowing every second matters, the good and the bad, and be happy to have them.

A sweet show with a sweet ending; just what I needed tonight.

[tibby]

hi i know you like to talk about chainshipping and lawrence (saw), ive gained so much more appreciation for him and adam because of it. i think youre really smart and i love seeing you dig into this content. i wanted to know if you have anything to say about hoffman’s lore/development/etc? his relationship with john, his relationship with the other two apprentices, anything to say about hoffstrahm? id love to hear it all

sure! i’m glad you enjoy my lawrence/adam/chainshipping thoughts, and i will admit that i’m far more fond of them than i am of hoffman, so i’ve spent a lot more time thinking about them than him. so my thoughts i less coherent and this may reflect that, so apologies!

i think with hoffman, there are two very big things to take into account with his character (three if you count his tits): he’s a bad person. and the films did a bad job with him. my friend kief did a good job with exploring some of the narrative failures here, particularly in regards to hoffman in the final chapter. he cares way more about hoffman than i do, so i suggest checking that out.

anyway. i think saw v does a very good job of establishing hoffman's character, and it’s something that the later two films drop the ball on. i don’t think we get enough of him in iv to make much judgements there, outside of knowing that he….exists and is an apprentice. v is really the movie where we get to learn anything about him, and i think the movie does a good job of laying the groundwork for the narrative of this guy with a tragic backstory who initially performs iin justified ways, before going off the rails entirely.

there’s a lot to be said about hoffman later in his arc (most of it not good), we’re meant to believe that it’s his sister’s death that breaks him. and i’ve always thought that it makes sense that it breaks him. i can’t imagine how i’d respond if someone i loved was murdered and then their killer got away with a little more than a slap on the wrist. and this isn’t even taking into account that it’s quite possible he basically raised angelina - she’s 25 when she dies, and hoffman is in his early 40s when he gets recruited by john 5+ years later. there’s at least a decade between them, and john’s comment of “she was your only family” + the different surnames suggests a….complicated at best family situation. 

so hoffman’s sister is murdered, her killer walks free after five years, he develops a drinking problem, loses faith in the system he built his career upon (which. the justice system being a corrupt failure isn’t news to a lot of people, but that’s clearly not an intended part of the movie’s narrative, so.) the jigsaw case presents him with the opportunity to kill seth baxter, and he gets away with it. but his response to the act and his paranoia in the aftermath (made worse by john’s letter) suggests that it wasn’t something he *enjoyed.* killing seth doesn’t bring back angelina, and it just makes him a murderer.

and then he ends up under the control of john. john, who has a talent for preying on the apprentices for their perceived failures, punishing them for it, and then putting them in situations that exacerbate their faults. john views hoffman as a violent killer for what he did to seth, and his response? take hoffman under his wing as his murder and torture apprentice. and it’s this where hoffman’s love of violence, thrill of playing god, and distaste for the lives of others really begins, and it escalates very quickly.

hoffman starts to love violence and the ability to punish those that he views as “undeserving.” and while some of his victims deserve what they get (ivan, the nazis from 3d), he’s not just punishing bad people. he wants power, and he wants control, and he’ll take down anyone that is in his way. strahm, perez, john, jill, amanda - they’re either undeserving or they don’t learn, and they all threaten his position, so they have to go.

what’s interesting about hoffman to me is that there’s enough there to do varied interpretations of him had someone interfered before he went over the brink. by my own admittance, jigsquad hoffman is notably largely different to canon hoffman - and a majority of that is based in adam being there and pointing out that. well. hey. what john is doing to you is bad. don’t lose your humanity to this man. and therefore changing the narrative. adam (unknowingly) stops hoffman from losing his mind to blood and violence entirely, and also ends up shifting his perspective on certain people and things (namely amanda). i know a few au interpretations see amanda fulfilling the angelina role in hoffman’s life, and it’s something that i think can be done well for both characters in certain situations.

HOWEVER. that kind of stuff only works within an au. strictly operating within canon, if hoffman compares amanda to angie at all, it’s not in a positive light. he doesn’t think highly of amanda and views her as someone who doesn’t appreciate her life due to her struggles with drugs and mental illness, and decides she deserves to die in the most painful way possible for it. to him, amanda is a worthless junkie who is wasting her life when his own sister is dead. his grief does not excuse his misogyny and his ableism and his violence and his love of power.

so. when it comes to his relationship with the others involved in team jigsaw, they’re not good. he hates john for blackmailing and controling him. he thinks very poorly of amanda, to the point he decides she should die for it. he hates jill for playing the game better than him, and kills her for it (with a heaping of the misogyny that 3d is riddled with). it’s not really possible to view his relationship with lawrence in canon, mainly because there’s nothing really there. given his response to the lawrence reveal, i think it’s safe to assume hoffman never knew he was an apprentice at all. so that’s that.

as for hoffstrahm….never has there ever been a more fitting description of “this person is my mirror and i loathe them for it.” while strahm adamantly refuses to acknowledge their similarities because he won’t confront what that says about him, hoffman is fully aware and he sees strahm as either: his perfect ally, or his greatest enemy. hoffman gives strahm chances to join him, or at least *understand* him: he only gets water cubed because he doesn’t just stay in the fucking room, both he and perez follow the steps of rigg’s failed recruitment, and the glass coffin. unlike most of the other people hoffman kills, strahm dies because he refuses to *listen* and play by the rules. he didn’t want to understand hoffman and their two sides of the same coin dynamic, so he gets killed for it. @romanromulus once said something about saw v being a story about the death of hoffman’s humanity, and his relationship with strahm being his last attempt to hold onto it:

(screenshot courtesy of my beloved kiefer)

so. hoffman goes from someone grieving and struggling with addiction to a remorseless, brutal killer who loses touch with his humanity. it’s an interesting story, and one i think v sets up quite well. unfortunately  i don’t think vi or vii follow up on it very well, and it feels like they traded in a potentially compelling arc to having this Badass Character. which is a shame, because i think as awful as hoffman is, they could have done a lot more than him. we all joke about him being stupid and he absolutely has his moments, but he does occasionally play the game well. he’s deeply out of touch with his own emotions but able to understand others and anticipate their next moves, and he was able to construct the pendulum by himself. one of hoffman’s biggest problems (not including his personality) is the fact that even though he’s good at putting plans into motion, he doesn’t know what to do when things don’t go his way. vi is the perfect example of this: his plan to frame strahm quickly falls apart, and he responds by….setting fire to a police station and doing what he was told didn’t work earlier? stupidity, and just irrational, panicked behaviour.

anyway! all this to say is that hoffman objectively sucks, but there was a good story there, he’s someone with limitless au potential, and the films could have done his story a lot better.  and boy. are his tits fat.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

five good things

okay, gonna start with the main one because it's a big one:

LAST CAT STANDING IS GETTING HIS THYROID SORTED! He's had an overactive thyroid for pushing on for three years and we've been managing it with medication but it's been getting worse and although there is a treatment that will fix it outright (radioactive iodine injection) there have been such shortages that only one place has been doing it and their waiting list is over a year long, so he wouldn't be getting it this year, and he's nearly 18 so the longer he has to wait the worse he's going to get. However! Our vet called us last week and said she'd been doing a bit of research and found a couple of places much closer to us who are offering the treatment again and have much shorter waiting lists - one of them only about a month - so we said please refer him to one or other of those, and settled down to wait. Then I got a call yesterday from a very lovely vet at one of the places who talked me through it all and booked him in FOR TWO AND A HALF WEEKS' TIME. He'll have had it done by the time he turns 18 in mid-April! The really amazing thing is that this treatment has a 99.9% success rate - the vet described it both as 'the gold standard' and 'magical' and if a Sensible Veterinary Science Person is describing a treatment as 'magical'...well. I can't even begin to describe how thrilled we are. Our other three all had things that couldn't be cured (we don't even know what it was that Beanie had) so to have something that really can be cured straight off with one injection is just...it's such a relief you guys, I don't know how to tell you.

I've just had a really good two days at job number two with my gardener-lady biographer (who has turned into a really good friend and in fact bought our lovely little car off us a couple of months ago - so I got to see the little fella again which was lovely) - we did some reboxing of the stuff she's been sorting out, shuffled everything up and sorted it into a better order, and it all feels a lot more manageable now.

X-Men 97 is out!!! I haven't had chance to watch it yet but I'm SO EXCITED YOU GUYS OMG. I've seen a few stills, and it looks like my beloved Gambit is just as he was, and oh I am so pleased. <333333

The sun's been out today and we went for a wander at lunchtime, the spring flowers are all out and it was just so gloriously lovely to stand in the sun and feel warm.

Barduil Month is nearly here! (if anyone wants to prompt me please feel free - I have a couple but am always on the lookout for more!)

I am sitting in the pub with a very nice pint of Camden Hells and the laptop, one of my fellow regulars who I get on really well with is in the back room watching the rugby on his ipad and is going to come and join me when he's done, and some of my favourite bar staff are working. I am utterly knackered (I am such a lightweight, I'm not used to doing five-day weeks any more, and when I do two days in a row for job number two, to make it worth it for my friend to come up from London to work on gardener-lady's papers, I am always utterly wiped out at the end of it) but I'm chilling out and decompressing, there's a Wall of Sound playlist on the speakers (Da Doo Ron Ron currently) and everything is very lovely.

Both Isaac Howlett from Empathy Test and The Holy Ones have new singles out! Isaac's is here and is just perfect wounded-yearning-boy electropop (much like Empathy Test really) and THO's is here and is huge fun stoner-rock and Japa-the-guitar-player (who is one of my favourite people from the Finndom) hasn't changed a bit in fifteen years and I adore both him and the song. I'm hoping they'll announce some shows - they were playing in Helsinki in May 2020 and announced the show with enough notice that I was able to make arrangements to go, and I was on the point of doing so when Covid happened, the show was postponed to the September (when I still wouldn't have been able to enter Finland) and then cancelled, so I'm really really hoping they come through this time because I'm dying to see them. I also have itchy feet like you wouldn't believe and am dying for an excuse to go somewhere, and Helsinki being one of my favourite places in the whole world, well... :D :D :D

I had a fab birthday last week, and we went up to the new 'food dock' in town (one end of the docks has been converted into lots of bars, cafes and restaurants and it has been a very protracted process but it's finally finally all open) and had awesome burgers, locally-produced ice cream and locally-produced beer and looked at the pretty lights on the water and generally had a lovely evening of it.

Aaaaaand I have a fancy record player that works with our fancy wifi sound system, and Placebo's last two albums on vinyl, courtesy of the missus, and it's fancy enough that it doesn't auto-return at the end of a side so for the first time in about forty years I heard the track in the runout groove of side two of Sgt. Pepper which I hadn't heard since my dad got a tower stereo system in the 80s that had an auto-return and didn't play the runout groove and...yeah. Awesome. I sorted all my vinyl back into order (the missus does not do alphabetical order, and she'd had it all out of the cupboard at some point to do something or other behind the cupboard and then had not put it back in the right order), rediscovered a good few things, listened to a bunch of stuff and generally nerded out quite happily for a good few days XD

I had 96% on my most recent OU assignment XD all that's left to do is an essay plan for the final assignment, and then the final assignment itself, and given that I find planning really difficult, I'm probably going to write the final assignment and then summarise it for the plan, hand that in, then hand the final assignment in once I've had the feedback from the plan XDDDD And then I will be done, and I will be the king's favourite band (the Three Degrees) XDDDDDD

I think that's more than enough, don't you? :D Things are pretty all right at the moment, which is rather nice.

[lightneverfades]

So... I have a few thoughts regarding Sylvie. In spite of my love for Lokius, I feel really bad for Sylvie's character development in this season cause I really kinda wanted her to flourish as well cause last season we didn't get to see her backstory apart from that one scene in Ep4, S1. Just me?

Warning: Contains spoilers for Season 2, Episode 5 so do not read if you haven't watched the episode!

Cause there was a lot of potential for Sylvie to become Enchantress!Sylvie. And even though the whole McDonalds thing is funny, I kind of wish they had found a better way for her to become who she is.

Perhaps in Season 3 (I think there will be one considering the high ratings Season 2 is getting), we will see her able to develop as a character. Still, right now it's hard to see too much character development from Sylvie, cause the season is prioritizing the plot and Loki's character development, as well as Mobius's (and a few bits and pieces of B15, Casey, OB, Brandon/X-5 - which granted didn't need to be that long, although I am not complaining so much cause we got some hella great scenes of Loki using his magic).

I really want to see the badass Sylvie again we saw in Season 1. And while I do love her development scenes like that moment with Timely in episode 3, or those small moments when she realizes she needs to go back to the gang, I find that these are small developments and not quite enough to shape her character more richly. I kind of actually wish Marvel would release a limited series of Sylvie (three episodes or so) just to give her story breathing space because right now the only person in her life that seems to really matter is the people in her lives (like that kid in McDonalds or that guy at the record store) and we don't know them so much, so it's hard to feel invested in her life because it feels so separated from Loki's current situation.

So this is not really about Sylki or Lokius (in spite of my love for Loki/Mobius, I dislike the ship wars that start between these two), but mainly focused on my thoughts & concern for Sylvie's character moving forward. Hopefully, we will get some great character development for her soon (Season 1 was rather lacking in that dept, to be honest, and I had been hoping to see more of her getting fleshed out in this season, maybe even going back to her Asgardian roots possibly?), and she will be able to be her own magnificent kickass self after our amazing Loki gets a chance to ascend to the throne he was always supposed to have in the (most likely) form of God of Stories <3!

I mean, come on... if she went back to Asgard right after killing He Who Remains, that would have made more sense right? I know she probably has another double version of her in that timeline, but I just think it sort of makes sense... I almost wanted her to be curious about that life she could have had in the 'original' timeline.

Still, all these not-so-great thoughts about Sylvie's character development aside, I'm personally loving the effin' heck out of this season for the suspense and thrills this show is giving us with the grand twists and turns it's giving us, so apart from this little qualm, I am SO here for Episode 6! <3

I just want the show to treat Sylvie better I guess, that's all <3 Especially caused Sophia Di Martino is SUCH a great actress, she deserves to have great character development for Sylvie! <3 And hopefully a great origin story moment for Sylvie later on in the future for the Multiverse storylines in the coming future!

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

2023 Movie Journey #17: Elemental

elemental. i watched this one earlier this week with my family...and i'm finally caught up on movie reviews! which means i can now post new ones right after i see the movies. yay.

this movie's cast has some actors who i know, probably most notably a guy i enjoyed in jurassic world dominion. but much, much more importantly, the star of this movie is leah lewis, so even if i hadn't liked the movie overall i still would have had a great time watching it.

i fell immediately in love with leah lewis's portrayal of george when i started watching nancy drew this year. and i mean immediately--i was watching with somebody who loved bess the most, and i had seen so much ace on my tumblr dash that i knew i'd like him too, but george was still my favorite character by the time i finished the pilot. without even knowing how great and rewarding her season 1 arc would be, or how much depth she would eventually have beyond her introduction as 'grudge-holding black sheep nancy's boss,' i could just tell she was my type of fave.

and even after watching the whole first season of nancy drew, it wasn't until i was rewatching it to show it to @actuallylukedanes that i accidentally learned george was played by leah lewis...and that i already knew her! she was in the half of it! which i watched and reviewed in 2020, and loved so much that i've wanted to get other people to watch it ever since. i didn't connect her performances at all, but even my review back then raved about how she was what made the movie good.

so when i realized she was starring in this, i was thrilled. and what i love about her is that she's consistently the kind of actor who has a real presence: she makes her characters engaging and stands out in a big way for somebody still young (though she started acting as a kid, so i know she's not new just cuz she's newish to me). she's signed on to the matlock reboot with kathy bates and i don't expect to love that cbs show, but i am very excited to try it anyway.

as for the movie though: i couldn't help but spend the first half just hearing george, in all her lines. not in a distracting or bad way, but a nice familiar feeling. i suspect the goal with animated disney heroines is to not make them too distinctive, because there's kind of a 'friendly normal' sound to the modern ones regardless of the actress that means even when i can recognize who's speaking, they all sound a little more similar than i would ever say they do in live action work. (either that or it's just me not being able to differentiate as well in animation, which is certainly possible.)

anyway, i loved everything about her work in this; she was the reason i cried a few times. in my opinion that's always a mark of good work, making an impressive amount of connection with viewers using just your voice.

i also really liked her parents and wade, despite the movie's core conflict revolving around all of them--this movie did a good job of explaining who everybody was as things went along, in a more than superficial way, so that it was much easier to still like people when the Bad Times came because they made more sense and were more sympathetic. as family conflicts go, compared to encanto and turning red, this one was my favorite because of that. no matter how angry or disappointed her father got, or how much that affected ember, i could still sympathize with him too and believe that his love for her was more important than anything else.

now, i know this movie got mixed reviews (or possibly worse? i only saw vague headlines) but i'm not really sure why! the metaphor they used to tell the story about immigration and a diverse society was maybe more blunt than usual, but i don't think that's a bad thing. and while it did center on themes that disney movies cover a lot (family expectations, parental disappointment, feeling like a failure, being an outsider, etc)...there are reasons those themes pop up so much!

especially when pixar movies are trying to appeal to both kids and adult audiences, i think it makes total sense to keep coming back to the 'classics.' again, there were a lot of thematic similarities between encanto and turning red and this movie (despite their differences in the details) and i watched those other two--encanto more than once--but still cried just as easily when ember confessed to her dad that she was a bad daughter, and when they bowed to each other before she left. the wounds between us and our parents never really heal, i think, at least not for everybody. so this movie tugged at me by just representing those feelings well, and making me care about the characters.

and when it comes to caring about the characters, probably my favorite thing about the movie besides the cast was the way the plot genuinely surprised me. i expected a happy ending, because it's a disney movie. but based on the trailer, i didn't know what to expect between ember and wade beyond 'they meet and things happen.' and the movie does such a good job of setting up the world they live in and the rules they live by that i believed them.

so in the beginning, i figured they were going to become unexpected friends, and navigating that alone would be a challenge. in that story, presumably the happy ending would've been something like, she learns that wade is right and she doesn't have to stay with fire people and never interact with the rest of the world, and they get to have further adventures.

but then! it turns out that this movie is going for romance. weirdly, i don't expect that from disney movies--you'd think i would when they're the home of princess culture and everything, but i wasn't a 'princess meets her prince for a happy ending' kid. i grew up with disney classics but didn't imprint on any of them.

instead, i was a don bluth kid! singing music from an american tail is literally one of my earliest memories, and my animated love story growing up was anastasia. if i squint, i can kind of see overlap between that animated romcom and this one, in terms of traumatic family history and a guarded, feisty female lead who gets what she thought she wanted all along just as she's also fallen in love with someone whose difference threatens her new fulfilled goal.

i'm not saying the two movies are very alike, lol...a zombie sorcerer belongs nowhere in elemental, obviously. but they both treat their romances with less sentimental sweetness, more sparkage and sincerity. the flirting in this is cute, and i loved them more the further along we went.

but of course, there's still that pesky plot-established problem that makes them a doomed romance. so once it was clear that their dynamic was about falling in love, not just befriending the 'other'...then i honestly expected a bittersweet ending where friends is all they can be. because this is disney, not pushing daisies, and in a world where nobody seems to have invented the elemental version of saran wrap for characters to safely kiss through, what kind of future could they have?

i did not expect them to give us this story where the characters are all believable in how firmly they believe (or don't, in wade's case) that different elements can't mix, and then for the story to show us those differences being overcome. i mean, that theme isn't exactly a new one, love conquering all, but the differences were so much more concrete here--it was life or death for them! when the parental disapproval alone was almost enough to ruin their chances!

i suppose you could flip my reaction to this movie and look at it the opposite way, and complain that their ability in the end to do what the story all along told us couldn't be done made it a waste of time, like the stakes were fake even if they didn't know that. maybe if you predicted the ending from the beginning, it could have felt that way.

but i didn't have expectations for the ending. so while i was really hoping ember and wade could be together, i was prepared for the alternative, a more modest 'crossing the aisles' journey of discovery for them both that opened her world and future and allowed him into her life from a safe distance going forward. instead, their whole story was wonderful and i love them and i'm so glad that they get to be the odd couple they are in a very divided world.

one last fun (if also slightly vexing) thing about this movie is that while it does end, it leaves a lot open, too. and i wanted to get to see ember start her internship; i wanted to learn about their new life and if it goes well for them once they're out in the broader world. i guess i wasn't ready to say goodbye to them, really, is all.

but that was fun at least on the level of seeing this with my family--it meant that after it ended, we were discussing what a sequel could be about, and that segued into a discussion about whether ember and wade could have kids or if they'd have to adopt--and how cool it would be if them having kids would create new elements or something. i love that idea a lot.

and i enjoyed this movie a lot. it was super pretty, i liked most of the characters, and it was unexpected romcom fun. i'm officially rooting for pixar to make more love stories now.