#it’ll be more cinematic and have a slow burn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dee-dee-monster · 2 years

Text

Then Out of the Aether - (Ch. 6)

Summary: You and Eddie hang out on Friday’s now. It’s becoming a whole thing.

Warnings: Mention of deceased parent, but in a “happy memory” way.

A/N: multi-chapter slow burn. Henderson!Reader

< Click here to find previous chapters >

__ So. There is a “next time.”

And then another time.

And then there’s suddenly just this whole second half of your Pick-Dustin-Up-From-Club routine. On Fridays you drop off Mike, you bring Dustin home, you go to Bradley’s grocery store, and then you drive over to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie had initially upheld his solemn vow to let you pick the movie the second time you came over; he’d even been suitably pleased with your selection of Tron. Had complimented you on it, in fact.

“I 61% take back my slight on your cinematic tastes”

Which isn’t nothing, you suppose. Better than zero.

You’d laughed at his answer.

Since then, you’ve expanded your entertainment options beyond movies. You start bringing over music after Eddie mentions it again. Once more true to his word, he is totally fine playing a variety of music — if you’ll listen to his, he’ll listen to yours.

“So long as you don’t bully me into playing only The Monkees all night or something”

You don’t think anyone could manage bullying him into such a thing, and you told him so. He had seemed proud of your acknowledgement. Which is how you’re here.

Sitting on his kitchen counter trying to carefully rip into a Chips Ahoy bag while Eddie pulls out the tapes you’ve brought.

“Beach Boys?” he scoffs as he thumbs through the stack.

“Yup… …I have a couple albums because my dad used to have like all of their vinyls…”

You hear Eddie’s quiet “ah fuck,” and he slides the cassette back into the pile after having tossed it aside.

“Yeah?” he asks more evenly.

“Mmhmm... I remember listening to Surfin’ USA when I was little, and we’d act like the couches were surfboards…” you smile at the memory, and Eddie mirrors it back to you.

You sit in the happy memory while you nibble on a cookie. It’s a few moments before you see Eddie shifting his weight like he’s not sure whether or not to be uncomfortable.

“...was that weird of me to bring up?”

“No? …I don’t fucking know,” he falls back on honesty. “Am I…allowed to ask a question?” he checks, voice slow.

Which is fine. You’d brought him up; it feels okay.

“Okay,” he nods when you make your decision, and he’s more formal about it than you’ve ever seen him. “Did he…was it recent?”

You know what he means.

“No. Back in grade school…Dustin was just a little guy. He doesn’t really remember him. Just pictures and stories…”

And that fact has always twisted your gut in a weird way that you can only describe as guilt. Even though it’s not your fault – it’s no one’s fault.

“Sounds…sounds like that’s too bad,” Eddie clears his throat, and you note his thumb tapping rapidly against the stack of tapes still in his hand. “Like Dustin missed out on something good, I mean. Someone. Someone, obviously…”

Another hissed “fuck” under his breath that you’re not meant to hear.

“...you’re doing good,” you assure him with a small smile.

“Yeah?” Eddie glances at you from under his bangs.

“Really good. That was sweet of you to say – and true,” you promise.

He nods and flips open the Beach Boys tape in his hands.

“You don’t have to play it just because we talked about it,” you slide off the counter to take it from him, feeling oddly watched now.

Eddie holds it out of your reach and palms your forehead to push you back.

“I –hey! Seriously?” You brush his fingers off of your face.

“Then backoff and respect the ruler of the radio,” he orders you, nonchalant as you please.

“Ruler? Wow…”

He cackles on his way over to said stereo waiting on the table.

“In the presence of royalty, baby…” he assures you as he switches out tapes. “I may never voluntarily choose to play this again,” he admits as he snaps the cassette door shut, “but I’m sure it’ll go good with a smoke…”

He raises his eyebrows in invitation. Checking.

“Nah, I’m good,” you shake your head. “…but I’ll sit with you…”

Eddie fishes his pack of Camels off the counter instead before he ushers you out the door. You don’t mind the smell of the nicotine. You curl up on the couch out front and scoot close to his side because it’s a breezy night.

“No cushion surfing?” Eddie checks before sliding a cigarette between his lips.

You roll your head over to look at him with narrowed eyes, but a smile is on your lips. You find the look on Eddie’s face is soft. Fond.

“...no. I retired the surfing lifestyle,” you decide.

He chuffs and inhales his cigarette to life.

“Good thing in Indiana,” he judges and leans back so he can fling an arm up over the couch behind you.

He just…rests it there. Hovering behind your shoulders and offering a little warmth by proximity, but not touching you. He does things like that sometimes.

Well, to be fair, you both do.

You get close, just not too close. Something comfortable but nothing more than that. Cozy. Friendly. Those are all positive things. So what if it confuses you a little? So what if said befuddlement also makes you a little nervous…in a nice way.

Eddie doesn’t seem nervous. He always appears perfectly at ease. Confident in however you’re interacting, whether it’s here at his place or off at school. Maybe you’re embarrassingly unvaried in your friendships, but he seems comfortable. Like he knows what he’s doing. It’s heartening. The two of you are quiet for a while as a few tracks play through. You hum along here and there, but Eddie doesn’t have much to say.

“...how much do you hate it?” you grin over.

“Hate is a strong word… …but it all sounds the same…”

You laugh because plenty of people would probably say similar about his brand of music, too. At the same time, you get it. It’s mostly just a nostalgia listen for you. You’re not even sure why you’d brought this tape except that Eddie seems to genuinely appreciate that you like to dip your toe in many waters.

“You can change it…”

“Oh, I’m going to as soon as we go inside,” Eddie promises, though he’s lighting a second cigarette just now. He slides his eyes over to you. “I’m sure I can get with other things your old man liked…”

The consolation is nice, if unnecessary.

“He’s how I got into Janis Joplin”

“There ya go,” Eddie nods around his fresh smoke.

“And Jimi Hendrix”

He hums approval of this, too.

“But you brought the Boys, huh?”

“To broaden your horizons, Munson,” you nod.

“Christ almighty…”

You lapse into fresh silence, which is cut short by yelling nearby.

You jerk and twist your head around expecting to find someone on the lawn, but there’s nothing to see. Just yelling that jars over the quiet music.

“...at it again…” Eddie grumbles and slouches back.

“Hmm?”

“Two doors over. They have a, uh, quaint little on-again-off-again situation going…”

Huh.

“Quaint...not sure that means what you think it means...” you tease automatically in light of your discomfort.

“Hey, s’okay,” Eddie drags his hand back to tickle his fingertips over your shoulder, making you pull your gaze around to him instead. “They usually pop off hot and fizzle out quick…”

You nod.

“Guess people do that behind thicker walls in the suburbs…”

You’re startled for a moment but then find yourself nodding. Lindsay’s stories about parents come to mind, though they’ve never gone at it in front of company.

“Guess so…”

You don’t know why it makes you squirm. You don’t know them and no one is yelling at you. Still, you feel like you’re intruding…

“Alright?” Eddie’s fingers brush through the hair at your temple to push it back from your face. He’s watching you.

And if you were feeling edgy before, then the faux-intimate brush of his touch has you reeling straight into bizarre territory. That swoop in your chest? Best to ignore it...

God. You are the lamest.

“...yeah. I’m. Ugh, I don’t know why it’s uncomfortable…” you laugh it off.

Eddie obviously isn’t bothered. Maybe this is foreign to you, but you should just trust him and take his cue.

“You can go inside,” he shrugs.

Sure, you could.

“It’s fine”

He sighs some smoke out his nose and reaches for the ashtray on his other side.

“No, no – it’s fine. Go ahead and finish,” you grab at the shoulder of his shirt to yank on it.

When he acquiesces, you shift in just a little closer and lean on that arm he’d been offering. You’ve never done that before, but it’s...cozy.

Eddie simply accepts your move.

More than.

His arm shifts, and he raises his hand to just kind of …cup the crown of your head. He doesn’t really play with your hair but sort of pets a thumb back and forth over it. Which doesn’t even feel like much, but it’s kind of nice all the same. Grounding.

Shortly, a nearby door bangs open.

“Go then!” someone shrieks.

“I am!” a deeper voice roars back.

A tall silhouette marches outside, and seconds later a car peels out over the gravel drive.

“See?” Eddie nods as he stubs out the last of his smoke.

He isn’t saying it in a gloating way, all Look-At-Me-I-Was-Right. Mostly like he’s just stating reality. Like this is the rhythm of the neighborhood and he’s got it tracked.

“C’mon…”

He shoves up off the couch and offers you a hand to tug you along with. He ushers you ahead of him to get back inside and immediately sets upon the stereo. He chooses some Black Sabbath – “to cleanse the air,” he says, but he throws in a wink.

He tells you about how Black Sabbath was one of his first concerts – like actual concert. Something big. Something he saved for. Tells you about how his Uncle always encouraged his interest in music but couldn’t usually swing concerts; getting them both tickets and the cost and time of travel to take him was just a little too much. So Eddie saved money from odd jobs around the neighborhood so that once he got his license he could just take himself. Wayne let him do it, trusted him enough for that.

“Worth it!” he cheers.

You think it’s a nice story.

“Nice? No – it’s awesome. Rocking across state lines? On my own? Probably a little too young? Fuck yeah…”

You laugh.

“Oh. Sorry. I meant: how very metal of you…”

Eddie beams for a moment.

“Better. But you’re on thin ice, honestly…”

Then he throws his head back into Supernaut, air guitar and all. You lose his attention until after the solo, but you’re not offended. Rather, you kind of like it. He either doesn’t mind the attention or fails to notice while he enjoys the build of a song he likes and purges some of his energy into it.

It’s …kind of inspiring.

“Alright, alright,” he focuses up when the song winds down, and he slams his hands onto the table between you. “I know you’re not much of a concert girl - whatever that even means – but have you actually been to any concerts? You know I can’t just let you have that opinion if it’s not tested…”

For a second – okay, maybe two – the idea of a concert with Eddie sounds fun.

“I have been. Lindsey’s Aunt used to be some kind of groupie, I guess? She takes Lindsey to a lot of different shows – says she needs to see real cities,” you smile because Lydia is honestly the best. “I’ve gone a few times…”

“M’kay, m’kay,” he waves you on, pleased.

“I liked The Cramps,” you note Eddie’s scrunched nose. “And we saw Heart last year in Chicago…”

“Okay, that answer could’ve been a lot worse …”

“Kindda full of yourself, Munson…”

His nod is enthusiastic, not at all put off, and you laugh.

“You bring any Heart?” he reaches back for the pile of your music.

“No, but I can”

“...I’d allow it.”

You stage-whisper something about him being “so stuck up” and he smirks as he pushes a few of his own cassettes in your direction to pick through.

You enjoy this. The easy back-and-forth. Swapping stories. New music, which gives as much insight as the stories sometimes. You both like different things about music but are open to each other’s perspectives.

And to think people probably believe Eddie likes what he likes just because it’s loud and dark and shocking.

Which…ya know, is probably all true.

But it’s not the end of things. So the music gets turned up and down as you talk or just sit back and enjoy a track.

Until shouting picks up down the way again. Then Eddie interrupts conversation to tick the dial up a few notches and try drowning it out.

That would be fine if you hadn’t been in the middle of defending a little Joan Baez: “We’re staring down 1986, Henderson!” versus “I like what she’s about – and her voice is nice!”

The two of you stare at each other across the table a while until Eddie rolls his eyes and yanks the stereo’s cord from the wall.

“Grab snacks. Come on…”

He heads down the hall, toward his bedroom.

You’ve been in the living room, kitchen, and bathroom, but never Eddie’s room.

That’s…

It seems…

Well, hell, you don’t know what it seems. You grab the pretzels and M&Ms and follow after him. He’s already brushed through the door, but you tread along the worn carpet with caution. Step into the mouth of the room with slow, careful feet.

“Hope you weren’t expecting anything too posh…”

Eddie is watching you while he wiggles the stereo plug into a new outlet. His tone may sound bland, but his eyes have something searching about them. Cautious.

“Perish the thought…”

His room is about what you’d expected. Not that you’d thought about his bedroom!

Just.

It seems fitting, is all. Haphazardly decorated in a smattering of very Eddie-like things: music posters, worn out band t-shirts, some sheet music, a few skull posters. Lots of red, black, and greens.

It’s cluttered and there’s a lingering scent of weed clinging in the air, but it’s not dirty. His bed, where you definitely do not let your eyes linger, is in unmade disarray, but you rarely make yours either so zero judgment to be found on that front.

You spot a record player on top of a thin dresser next to you.

“And we’re shuffling tapes?” you tap the top of it.

“Easier,” Eddie shrugs but takes the hint and lopes over to start fingering through his milkcrate of records.

You move a smidge further into the room now that you’re over the surprise and Eddie appears to have decided you’re not judging the state of the place. Your foot knocks into something that crinkles, and you have a joke in mind about textbooks…only you look down to find a comic.

Heavy Metal. You’ve never heard of it, but the cover is …eye-catching? Some sort of dragon and a woman who is scandalously clad. You think maybe it’s not about music, and you reach down to take a better look -- but a foot beats your fingers and kicks it over under the corner of the bed.

Oho!

That certainly confirms something.

“...well, well…” you grin up at Eddie.

“Leave a guy some secrets, huh?”

“...are you blushing?”

He scoffs, face twitching in offense. Then he glances for the ceiling and just shrugs.

He is.

Is there part of you that wants to dive for the floor and flip that comic open? Yes, absolutely. But ultimately you’d rather keep this evening going. Soon, Hendrix is playing through the room. Eddie adjusts it to a decent decibel and then kicks the door shut to cancel out whatever is left of the neighbors’ argument.

He’s still avoiding your eyes – he’d definitely been blushing

“He played at Woodstock..”

Eddie frowns and cocks his head over at you, now. He doesn’t have to say “Yeah, obviously” because it’s written on his face.

He says it anyway.

“...you know who else played at Woodstock?” you suck in your lips in an obvious attempt to hide a grin.

Eddie looks thoughtful for a moment, but then your face probably gives you away. Smug.

His look falls into something deadpan and unamused.

“Don’t you dare…”

“I’m just saying – Joan had a whole set, too…”

“Get out of my home!” He complains.

“...c’mon. She even plays the guitar. Gotta respect that…”

His eyes tighten, and a couple of his long steps eat up the space between the two of you. He towers over you and leans in close.

“...are you going to mount an argument comparing her to Hendrix?” his breath fans over your nose. “Is that what you want to do right now?”

You just know he’s already crafting a whole dissertation against you, but you’re momentarily distracted by his proximity. By sharing his breath.

Luckily his challenge is crackling in the air so you can’t be too lulled.

You laugh in his face.

“No”

He straightens up and relaxes.

“Thank Christ…” he exhales slow. “But remember that thin ice?”

You flick the center of his chest right over the demon head on his Club shirt. A grin twitches one corner of his mouth and he backs off to flop onto his bed. You take over his previous spot at his milkcrate, then, and browse through his records. The air seems to have thinned back out, and it’s all quiet save for the music while you kneel down on the carpet and inspect the collection. You slide several out just to look them over, though you don’t feel inclined to change music.

Most of the sleeves are worn, slightly tattered in the corners. Not in a careless way, but used. Well-loved, like music should be.

“...you’re quiet,” you realize and glance over your shoulder.

Eddie’s sitting on his bed watching you. When you meet his eyes, he shrugs.

“...just enjoying the music.”

“Would…you rather we not hang out in here?” you scratch your thumbnail over the edge of the box in front of you.

Bedrooms are personal, and you’ve already snooped. Well, not really snooping because he’d left the comic sitting out, but that only serves as evidence he hadn’t intended to come in here with you in the first place.

“S’fine…”

You feel torn between your general belief Eddie is a truthful guy and feeling like something is off about him. He never seems like this, and the only new turn is coming in here.

You try to think of a way to distract him. Commentary on one of his tour posters would probably do it – there’s got to be a few stories wrapped up in each one. Or–

Oh. To the left of his cluttered desk, you spot a familiar drawing. Your drawing from that first time sitting out by the tree.

“You hung it up…” you call this out before you can decide if you actually want to.

“Uh,” he follows your sight. “Yeah…”

You get up to cross the room, but Eddie hops to his feet and beats you there. Smacks a hand over the sketch.

“You’re not stealing it back, are you?” He’s suspicious.

“...no.”

You've only gotten up because … …because it’s surreal to see it here.

Your art fills your own room and is scattered around your house, but nowhere else. Well. That’s a lie. Your work is in the art classroom, obviously. And Lindsey has a couple doodles stuck to her mirror and those rocks you two had painted are out on her back porch …but you’ve known her since you were, what? Seven?

Seeing this thing here…it feels like a lot.

Maybe because Eddie doesn’t owe you anything – wouldn't have hung this just to be nice because you hadn’t been close. That means when he put it up he probably assumed you’d never know.

He just…likes it. Apparently.

You clear your throat and shake off the idea.

“You know…” you try to cover the fact that you’re just standing there next to him like a dope. “You never did make a guess about it.”

He’d wanted to know what song inspired it, but he hasn’t brought it up in quite a while.

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins. “I kind of don’t want to know...”

Talk about a change.

“Really?”

“Well…I do. Like, if you told me I wouldn’t want to punch you in the face,” he scoffs and you laugh. “But I don’t really care. I sort of like just wondering about it sometimes...”

What the ever living–

What?

You just stare at him. Blink. You’re flabbergasted, and for a second you don’t know what you feel. Something light is in your chest. Flutters to life.

You’re…

Flattered?

“Was…that rude?” Eddie cringes, unsure, when you glance back to his face.

“What?”

You’re just gaping like a fish. You’re the rude one.

“Well, I said I don’t care, and I don’t mean it like that…” he assures you.

You laugh. A funny, relieved little sound.

“...you hung up something I made and told me that it’s still interesting to you. And you’re worried that’s rude?”

Absolutely not.

The direct opposite.

“Well. When you put it that way…” he smiles at you but then glances away, maybe blushing again. “So…uh. So how would you draw this song?”

“Huh? Oh…” you give a thought to what is playing – The Killing Floor -- and shrug. “I dunno.”

Eddie rifles around his desk and pulls out a legal pad and a pencil, both of which he tosses to you.

“There. Do your creative little thing…”

If anyone besides Eddie said that, you might be offended. But you know by now that he digs it -- that he does his own “creative little things” too.

“My little thing,” you roll your eyes anyway.

“Yeah…it’s all right up there,” he rubs at your temple.

He’s good at that.

Better than you, anyway.

The touching. He’s a toucher. Whether it’s shoulders and knees pressing together because of proximity or because he just reaches out and does it, he’s a toucher. Just for casual reasons.

You’re mostly past being surprised by it.

In fact, you’re trying to find more reasons to reciprocate. If he’s a tactile person, you want to meet him there. Plus…it’s satisfying.

Warm.

Personal.

You feel you’re quicker and flightier about it than him, but you’re getting there.

“Fine…then you have to, too,” you rip a piece of paper off for him.

“Ugh, no fair,” he drops back down onto the edge of his bed. But Eddie digs up another pen and plays along. He flops onto his bed, you sit on the floor, and you both doodle.

He pulls the stereo back over so you can use that and jump music more quickly. After the first couple songs, he gets more into it. Closes his eyes to feel the music and then requests a replay so he can get to making something.

“...maybe it would be easier with paint or markers,” you decide after he scratches something out, balls it up, and holds out a petulant hand for a fresh piece of paper. “You wouldn’t feel like you have to, like, actually make something literal to represent the song. Color and texture counts…”

“Hah! So you bullied me into doing things the hard way!” he gripes and throws his pen across the room in a grandiose display of frustration. He’s left huffing when it bounces off the wall, rolls across his dresser, and falls down behind it.

“Yup,” you laugh at the ill-fated projectile. “Threatened your life and everything to make you come into my world…”

“Meh,” Eddie shrugs. “I like your world…”

You catch his eye and hold it, your breath clogged up in your chest. Geeze, he’s just saying…things tonight.

Shit.

You swallow.

“...how about your world?”

Eddie guffaws.

“What about it?”

You roll your eyes and swing your head toward his dresser. An electric guitar is propped up there. You gesture to it, then to the acoustic one in the corner.

“Play something?”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me twice!” Eddie abandons the fresh paper you’d given him and practically soars off the bed.

You keep your seat on the floor and watch him retrieve his guitar, then fiddle with the amp shoved in the corner. He flicks a couple dials and strums a cord before making a couple more adjustments to scale it down.

“Alright,” he seats himself back on the bed again. “Any requests from the crowd?”

You decline the chance to give him any direction, and he tutts at you.

A moment later he’s doing his own thing.

He doesn’t play anything you immediately recognize, which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s original music, but it could be – you’ve never heard Corroded Coffin play. Watching Eddie here and now, you assume you’re missing out. Even unaccompanied and relatively quiet, he’s into his music. Moving his body rhythmically. Letting his eyes fall shut now and then. Fingers dancing.

You become hyper aware of the pencil between your own fingers. You start paying more attention to Eddie than what he’s playing, strictly speaking. But, like…drawing him right in front of his face would be weird, right?

…right.

Most definitely. You straighten up the pencil and start drawing anyway. Nothing crazy. Only…it’s comfortable.

A genial little bubble, both of you doing your thing.

Time just kind of floats for a while.

The tune and tempo of music changes easily. Some snippets you recognize and could pick out a name for if you tried, others you don’t. Eddie’s obviously not sticking to one whole song, but it all flows. Gradual. Connected. Like he’s done this a million times and it fits for him.

Just like the moment is easy for you, too.

You love this. Love when time slips away and you can get lost in something. A moment. A piece of work. When the journey from your mind to your fingers goes easy. Sometimes you can’t quite get there. Other times you’ve spent hours in that headspace. You’ve…

You’ve never felt that way with someone else around, honestly. On that thought, you stop working. You chew on your lip and bring a critical eye to what you’ve got so far.

The moment had been lovely, but your drawing itself is…fine.

“...what’s that face for?”

You snap your eyes off the paper to meet Eddie’s. His fingers are still moving, but his gaze is on you. How long has he been looking? At what point had he clocked what you were up to?

Is it…okay? Did it make him uncomfortable?

“No face…”

“You’re making a face,” he assures you, nodding.

“Just…not my best,” you glance back down.

Hands aren’t really your sweet spot. Proportions and angles always get you. Plus he’d been moving…which is a sorry excuse, but one you’re personally willing to live with.

“Let’s see,” he cranes his chin to try seeing over your knees.

Shiiit.

“....can I decline?”

His smile is charming and dimply even as he shakes his head in the negative.

“Yeah… I figured,” you sigh your resignation.

“We’re both sharing. C’mon, c’mon,” he encourages.

Right. Very true. But giving Eddie an audience is clearly a lot more fruitful than giving you one, so it’s another few seconds before you get up and step up to the bed.

Eddie scoots over to indicate there’s plenty of room for you, so you perch next to him on the mattress and twist the paper his way.

“It is me!” he cracks, like he hadn’t quite been sure if you would.

He stops playing so he can snatch it from you.

It’s not much, really.

A section of the neck of his guitar with some frets dashed in, and his hand wrapped around it to press at the strings. Something isn’t quite right about it – either the real movements of his hand had hindered you getting a good position or your rendering isn’t portraying a proper illusion of potential movement. Something.

Not that Eddie seems to care.

“Not what I was expecting, but I like it – me and my baby,” he lovingly strokes the body of the instrument in his lap.

It makes you chuckle.

“...why don’t you like it?” He checks

“I don’t dislike it. There’s just things I would touch up if it was a real drawing…”

You’d fuss with his fingers – especially the tips. You’d finish filling out the faces of his rings.

“Looks pretty real to me,” he decides and rips the top page off to set it on his nightstand.

“Oh –” you blink. “If you like it I can make you a nicer one. On better paper or something.”

“Shh,” he throws two fingers over your lips. “I like it.”

He only moves his hand away when you smile and hold up your hands to indicate you’re backing down. He nods, and his arms fall back around his guitar like it’s natural.

“So what were you expecting?” you ask since it’s clear he’d watched you watching him. To some extent, at least.

“No clue… …drawing the music — oh!” he lifts a hand to snap his fingers. “I’ve got it – yup, great idea. New game…”

His eyes dance.

“...why am I scared?” you laugh because you’re not.

Mostly.

“Nah, don’t be scared. New guessing game,” he clarifies with a glance over to where your old sketch is taped up by his desk. “I play instrumentals. You guess the song.”

He starts in before you even agree, picking away.

“Smoke on the Water. Come on…” you nudge his knee with yours.

He may find some of your tastes questionable, but you do know things.

“Just easing you in… …”

He continues for a little while and then filters the song into something else.

“...Crazy Train. We were just listening to that...”

He nods but continues the song just, it seems, for the joy of it.

When he switches it up again, nothing comes immediately to mind. You close your eyes and think on the melody… Eddie peppers in several songs that are easy, but a few take time. You think he takes satisfaction in stumping you and telling you to get a proper education… plus then he gets to play the songs he likes longer.

“Ugh,” you groan in frustration and drop back against the rumpled bed. “I don’t knowww…oh!” you startle yourself when you consider your current position. “Crap. Does this bother you?”

Sitting on his bed is one thing when invited, but laying on it might be another.

Eddie glances over his shoulder without stopping his playing. His eyes dip down to you before he shakes his head in answer.

You don’t notice the strong line of his jaw from this angle.

You absolutely do not. …except for how you do. You really, really do.

You kind of clench up thinking about it, and you continue to stare at him even when he looks away. You forget to pay attention to the music until he starts singing along to it. Softly first, then more obnoxiously.

“...can’t you see? Can’t you see? …No, no, nooo!...”

“--you got the best of meee!” you laugh and nudge at Eddie with your shin when recognition comes.

“Don’t disrupt me– give me my moment, woman,” Eddie gripes as his fingers slide.

“I knew that I knew it!” you more or less ignore him.

“But it’s cheating! Doesn’t count!” his hair flicks as he shakes his head.

“Boo – you didn’t make rules,” you laugh, recalling this conversation in reverse.

“I’m making them now,” Eddie smiles over his shoulder in a way that suggests he remembers it too. “You gotta guess it before I start singing.”

“...see, by your tone you seem to think that’s a threat. But you have a nice voice…”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

He’s still peering over his shoulder, and you feel caught in the personal mess of this compliment. As if it isn’t personal enough that you’re sprawled out on his bed. Or that you both know you were staring at his hands earlier. Or that you’re sharing pieces of your passions with each other in the first place.

And then there’s that damn jawline.

You squirm uncomfortably

…or maybe you’re a little too comfortable?

“Thanks,” he grins when he decides to take the praise for what it is.

And that smile?

You’ve seen it countless times now, but suddenly you can’t stand it.

You shove yourself back up to sitting.

“So…do you and the band do covers then? I’m an asshole for never asking …”

Yes. Yes, put yourself down and move along. Classic.

“You’re not an asshole,” Eddie chortles as he continues to pick across the strings. “And, yeah, a bit…we add in some of our own stuff to test out. Covers get us invited back, though…”

“Guess that makes sense”

“I like to pick up riffs and licks of shit I hear and dig,” he shrugs. “I don’t always know a whole song…”

“Oh. Well. Then I’m no longer impressed”

He catches your eyes again like he’s checking, but he laughs when you smile.

“...I impress you, huh?”

You don’t often hear him double-back for validation – that’s more your game. But he’s staring at you, grinning…so maybe he’s teasing? Or both.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks under his gaze, and finally, in that moment …you fully accept you might have an Eddie-sized problem.

It’s occurred to you before, of course. In those moments that his touch feels extra warm or when he says things that feel so strangely personal.

You always shove it away.

Now it’s kind of …weedling deep into your brain.

Your inclination is to deny his question. To lean into the joke and insist he is a complete and utter bore.

“...yeah. I guess you do,” you say instead.

Because he does, honestly.

“Ah,” he shakes his hair out and puts on a show of preening under this praise. “I told you – flattery will get you everywhere.”

Damn.

In your mind, you imagine taking that and running with it. Of smirking and saying something like “Oh yeah? Like where?” just to see what happens. To gauge his reaction.

But…then what? You can’t quite picture the other side of that conversation.

“Jeeze…you’re going to be impossible now, aren’t you?”

“Nah,” he glances back again. “Not for you…” . Whaaaaaaat the fuck is he doing?

No. Seriously.

Eddie hasn’t known what he’s doing ever since the two of you had stepped into his room together – he’s just flying by the seat of his pants. Or…he hadn’t known what he was doing before that, either, if he’s honest (and he doesn’t want to be).

He has no idea what he’s doing any time you come over, really.

At this point, he can pretty well admit to himself that he is into you, but to hell if he knows what to do about that.

Well. He knows what to do…like, ya know, if it came to fucking around. He’s done that. A bit. With some old classmates – college Freshmen who’ve come back to Hawkins on spring break, who’ve opened their minds just a little and now Eddie maybe seems more fun than freaky. The rebellion becomes more intriguing than scary for once. Okay, maybe twice.

Fine. Cool.

Only he’s pretty sure this isn’t that. Is it going there? Maybe. But it probably isn't. No one is saying it is!

He’s definitely not saying it is.

Fuck.

You just. You have a good time together, and it’s so easy. So easy, and shit like this is never easy. Not for him.

And you’re nice and you’re smart and you’re funny...

Which is why he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Or saying.

He’s a mess.

See, he doesn’t date. He’s never dated…at least, not at any age where it would count. Being the Hawkins Freak doesn’t really lend itself to having an easy time in the friend department, so fucking forget about the romance department.

That’s what he wants, though. Sometimes, when he squints …he thinks you do, too.

He could always be conflating things, though. That sounds like something he might do.

He should cut it the fuck out, is the thing.

He should stop saying things. Things that are suggestive from certain angles. Telling you stories. Inviting you to share your shit. Telling you he’s possible, whatever the fuck that meant. Sitting there and jamming while you draw him. Jesus H, that had been fucking hot. Even before he knew what you were drawing, it didn’t even matter. You could’ve been doodling Yoda, and he would’ve still gotten wrapped up in watching you, how you glanced up toward him now and then but otherwise just relaxed and listened to him play and got all up in your own world, just for a while…

“...s’matter?”

Your voice tugs him from his thoughts, and he realizes he’s just sitting there. He’s lost the thread of whatever he’d been saying and playing. The room is quiet, save for a passing car.

“...just thinking…”

“...want to share with the crowd?” you tease and kick his ankle lightly.

“Nothing interesting…”

You tilt your head in consideration and then prop your elbows on your knees.

“Let the masses be the judge of that…”

Hah. Masses. Someday, maybe, he’ll play for the masses. For now it’s just Gareth’s neighbors, the regulars at The Hideout…and you.

“I’m hungry,” he announces.

And that’s the truth, if not all of it.

Eddie unplugs his guitar, sets it gently against his pillow, and gets up to fetch the snacks you’d set down by the record player and haven’t touched since.

He recalls you kneeling there beside his records, thumbing through them like it was a comfortable place for you to be. How he’d watched and realized that, besides the guys, people generally aren’t comfortable here. It’s small and old and not on the right end of town… there’s a fucking demilich tacked up on the wall.

He’s pretty sure you don’t give a fuck.

You can’t be pretending, right?

“...sounds like Phiefer has quieted down,” he points out once he’s scooped up the food. “Movie?”

He watches your eyes dart around and realizes you’re looking for a clock. Yeeeeah, he’s not the greatest with alarm clocks.

He twists up his arm to check his watch.

“...what time you gotta be home?” he asks though he knows you don’t really have a curfew.

You’re one of those teenagers who gets a lot of leeway at home because you’re not a trouble starter.

“Not too late,” you answer the same as you always do.

“Then you’re good,” he makes the promise he always makes.

“...no slashers?”

He rolls his eyes at you and strolls down the hall.

“No slashers?!” you repeat, following swiftly.

“...next time,” Eddie vows.

“Then I’m sorry to inform you, this will be the last time I ever come over…”

He laughs because you jest. Or…he’s pretty sure you’re joking. He’s gotten in a few horror flicks and you have yet to bail in the middle of one.

“You pick,” he waves you off to the Munson Movie Collection and veers into the kitchen to grab a beer.

Salty, sweet, and beer? Sign him up, thanks.

Since it’s his movie shelf, he’s not worried about what he’ll have to end up watching. Though he has to admit he hasn’t been disappointed by Tron or Caddyshack when you’d brought those, you’ve been threatening him with Flashdance so you’re on notice.

As it is, you narrow the movies down to Dark Crystal or This is Spinal Tap, then make him pick. Spinal Tap, it is!

Eddie lets you set it up and situates himself on the couch. He sits close to the middle with his arm up over the back…his regular invitation these days. You’ll usually sit close but not really touching, not leaning in. He’s perpetually disappointed by this, though it does leave an easy road open for casual touches while you chat or share food and drinks.

Sure enough, when you sink down on the couch you leave the slimmest gap between you.

“...it’s been a nice night,” you face him once you’re sitting, and Eddie perks up because that’s usually the kind of thing you say on your way out the door. “Thanks…”

“...thanks?” Eddie twists his mouth up so his confusion will come off friendly rather than dismissive.

“...yeah. It’s been a cool night. You playing for me, doing some art together…”

Oh.

“Well, I’m not sure if I was really doing art, per say…” he chortles.

Your fingers cover his mouth, and his lips are on fire.

“...looked pretty really to me.”

You’re quoting him at him, and he smiles against your hand. You do that sometimes, and he loves it – thrills on knowing someone was actually listening. So many people don’t.

“You’re right,” he keeps smiling when you slide your hand away. “It was art. Fine art, even.”

“Ugh. Ego!”

“Facts are facts, Princess…”

You chuckle but straighten yourself up.

“Anyway…what I’m saying is, it’s nice. I don’t really do that kind of stuff with anyone else…”

Your confession seizes something up high in Eddie’s chest, and he is going to kiss you.

He knows it, just for a split second.

He’s going to do it.

He is.

He’s so fucking sure of it that he drops his hand to your shoulder. Squeezes. He’s going to draw you in, and it’s going to be so fucking soft and warm and… Then he clocks your smile. How it’s one of those small, tentative things you use sometimes. You’re unsure, and he knows it. You get that way occasionally.

He’s not always sure why.

…but he knows you’re saying something here.

Really.

You are.

You’re testing some waters, and the brakes in his head slam on when he realizes he doesn’t want to cheapen it by doing something he’s only half sure you’re going to reciprocate. That would be fucked. And selfish.

And just…fucked.

You don’t do this with other people.

At least he has the guys to jam with and nerd-out with over D&D. He doesn’t think you have that. You have Lindsey, but you share friendship not, as far as he’s seen, passions.

It doesn’t seem like you have people in Hawkins.

Maybe…maybe Eddie can be your people.

“Yeah…” he squeezes your shoulder again but stops short of pulling you closer; he doesn’t lean in. “I enjoy it, too. You don’t have to thank me, though.”

It’s not like he’s doing you some favor. Maybe he should be more exuberant, say more than “I enjoy it.” That’s kindda fucking lame...

But what’s he supposed to say?

That he buzzes on spending time with you? That he wants to know more of the things you like even if he doesn’t like them, that he wants to crawl inside your head and see how you see shit?

(How you see him, but that’s a whole other matter…)

Eddie’s always been proud that he is himself all the time no matter what anyone says or does. But you? …you’re yourself when you feel safe, so the fact that he gets to see you…well. That makes him a little proud, too.

But, like, he doesn’t know how to fucking say that.

“Too late – I already thanked you,” you tell him cheekily.

Eddie huffs.

“Yeah, because you’re weird”

“...says the freak.”

That surprises a laugh out of him because you never say that. Given the givens, he’s not offended since it’s you.

Your responding smile is something wider, more fitting to your face. And your eyes dance instead of search. You’re relieved.

…should he say something?

Before he can, you lean forward and pick up the pretzels and pour the M&Ms in. Then you shake the bag up.

“Fucking genius,” Eddie groans.

“Yeah, huh?”

Pleased little smirk in place, you sit back and close the gap so your side is pressed up to his.

…maybe that’s not a lot.

But it’s not nothing either. ______

Next Chapter >>>

#Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson slow burn #slow burn #Getting cute though #stranger things fanfic #henderson!reader

29 notes · View notes

mariamariquinha · 2 years

Text

Bossa Nova (Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f!reader) - One

Prologue | Two

SUMMARY: The ‘Hitchcock method’ was Nick O'Brien's way of saying you could handle the job.

WORD COUNT: 2.293.

WARNINGS: Crime scene, death, mature themes, angst, sexism, talks about cop work, talks about divorce, people being trashy and sadness. It’ll get better with time, but for now it’s complicated.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Benny is kind of in the background for now, but everything will work itself out. Consider this a slow burn. This first chapter is very introductory so you can understand the dynamics of the characters.

It’s always good and safe to remind that this history is FICTION, not related to real life people at all or with any US police force. There will be canon references, but just that - if you didn’t watch the movie, it’s okay.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

****

Summary: WPS* - Witness Protection Service

****

Alfred Hitchcock had the idea to write The Birds when he saw a news report: in 61, birds made a mass attack on Capitola. There was a scientific explanation for that, of course, something like a contamination occurred by neurotoxins from fish that drove the birds crazy. It’s not that interesting when that second part came – movies could do things way better, tho.

Dr. Martin was one of your favorite professors from college. As a huge fan of Hitchcock and Hollywood (and probably obsessed with Marilyn Monroe), he always made cinematic analogies to be practical in his classroom approaches. In the case of the old Alfred, Dr. Martin used the maxim that 'the birds punished the humans because the humans thought they were the center of the fucking universe'.

“In a crime scene, we have to think of it as a misrepresentation of what we consider correct or humanly moral. People do bad things, and the first impression we have of them when they do these things should be that these fatalities just happened. Then we move on to explanations.”

You always wanted to be a field agent, but only because it was the most plausible path between being an obsessed nerd and a police officer: you had the theory plus the practice of being able to use a gun. Putting Dr. Martin's and any other professor's theories into practice seemed extraordinary.

But then you ended up giving up. You lacked willpower. You were left with temporary licenses granted by your boss to collect evidence at crime scenes, which bordered on the illegality of bureaucratic processes so much that she ended up suggesting that you try again, just one more time, just in case.

If you had known that this would land you in a ton of situations that you would have to deal with with Nick O'Brien, you really would have said no and put any spark of expectation in being a field agent in the trash.

He was old school, obviously. Everything was seen and reviewed before gaining some kind of approval from him, which by chance seemed to continue to make sense to the guy even after you had told him to eat shit right at the beginning of this… endeavor. You hated needing the job enough to keep doing this.

When you got to the crime scene, equipment in hand and still feeling the brunt of one of California's hottest summers, you knew that it was one of those Hitchcock occasions. You never really got used to the idea of being surrounded by death and blood and whatever, so you took your time to get out of the car.

The liquor store was close to the beach, which had to be one of the worst places to commit a crime considering the tourists and the location. Still, it looked well done. The fact that the body was exposed in the hot concrete already made it clear that whoever did this wanted to send a message. Gang work. And if there was gang work…

“You look tired,” Nick was the first one to talk to you like always. He had an arm resting on the door of your car, almost purring like a devilish cat and very, very fake.

You didn't answer the tease. With the sunglasses still on your face, you opened the door abruptly and made him go back before he could be hit. The kit was already in hand, because you were in a hurry – always in a hurry to be away from him.

You looked around cautiously; apart from the people who hadn't yet dispersed, the ambulances were still checking the status of witnesses and you could see Gina working the scene around the victim. You sighed at the sight of DEA vests. Fuck.

“I don't wanna ask.”

“If you don't want the answer, it's best not to ask.”

“Mm,” You swiped your eyes over the scene one more time, spotting the guy on the other side of the containment band. “When did he get here?”

“About ten minutes,” He shrugged a little, certainly following your gaze with a defeated sigh. “It's the kind of thing that makes us think about retiring.”

“Yeah, it doesn't inspire me to renew my CSI license either.”

Of all the people you managed to maintain the least bit of good-neighbor with at the agency, Mathias Walsh was on the list of human beings with a unique ability to be insufferable, disrespectful, and with terrible taste in haircuts or tailored pants. You almost got suspended for a fight in a past collaborative case; he almost spent the rest of his career at a desk for the same reason. It was easier to hate him than anyone else at that point in the game.

That could explain the phone call and the urgency. It wasn't like the egos fight between the Major Crimes and the DEA was new – Nick needed the evidence and a scapegoat. Or maybe he was more restricted to the sheriff's command to act like the man he was so sure he was.

“Oh, finally!” Connors made an appearance by your side, Borracho and Tony at his tale. “What took you so long?”

“Was signing my divorce papers.”

“Was it today?” Nick asked.

“Yep. I got the house. Win-win,” You took off your sunglasses and placed it in the pocket of your own vest. “So? Information… Victim identification, time of attack…?”

“Desiree York. 37, single. Stripper,” Borracho answered.

“Sounds like someone you would know,” You eyed O’Brien.

“We kind of did,” He crossed his arms over his chest, not an ounce of shame in his statement. “She was one of DEA's potential informants.”

“Where is the WPS* when we need it most, huh.”

You gave O’Brien an annoyed side glance before turning to the other guys.

“I’ll go over the footage material and take some pics. Will you stay here or…?”

Because you didn’t want to ask for someone to do so. You didn’t, because it meant that you couldn’t stand up for yourself and, being really honest, your ego was way too hurted for you to go over your pride. You indulged, instead, letting the ball in their hands.

“You and Gina are big, you know your way around,” Nick patted your back with the force of a brute. “You can handle it, can’t you?”

“Yeah. No, yeah, of course. No problem.”

“I think it would be better if one of us stayed,” Benny intervened with a calm, unfazed tone. “Dude will be on her ass, you know how he is.”

“Then you stay,” Tony snorted, elbowing him with a grin on his face.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” You and Nick asked in unison.

“If it’s okay for you too.”

“Erm… Yeah, yeah. It is, no problem.”

“Don’t worry, ma. I got your back.”

And, look, honestly, out of all the people Nick worked with in that department, Benny was the most aloof of them all, to the point where you could tell you enjoyed his company. He didn't bring up any subject any more than was necessary – he knew when to shut up. Maybe he was better than you in that regard, honestly, and sometimes he looked at you strangely when he went to the lab and you were talking to yourself, but Benny was… peaceful. Without Nick's rigid presence, Tony's petulance, Connors' advance or Henderson's blatant indifference.

Probably very successful with ladies too. Not every guy could contain the necessity to jump in every chance to run their mouths over anything.

“Security cameras and forensic photos,” You pointed a finger at Nick, passing by them.

“I'm under your orders.”

“If you were, you wouldn’t be wearing that aftershave.”

“You’re the best we have!” He exaggerated behind your back.

“I know.”

Mathias took a big part in the way things escalated that day, mainly because he didn't say anything when he saw you talking to Gina or just cataloging the scene, as it should be. Maybe it was Benny's presence at your side, occasionally glancing in the man's direction to make sure there was no problem, or Nick really had some big advantage there since Desiree was DEA’s responsibility.

Like the coward he was, he waited. As stupid as he was, in fact, he thought it would be a good opportunity to kick a dead dog when he approached you at the end of work, when you already had material to take back to the precinct. Benny distanced himself for a moment too long and Walsh came up as if your testosterone dome had opened a gap for him.

“I didn't think you would come today,” You sensed him sliding beside you, his body way too close while you adjusted your things in the back seat, door open.

“My my, so sad to disappoint.”

“Tell me, did you sign the divorce before coming here or did you do it on the way here?” He was gesturing in your peripheral, and you could really put those fingers of his in a place who wouldn’t be able to reach out ever again.

You closed the door harshly before turning to his sarcastic face.

“Do you want to know if I made my ex get down on all fours and beg for another chance like you did with your ex?”

“On the contrary. With an affinity for someone like Nick, I don't doubt your kneeling skills are better than mine.”

“Pretty smart words coming from the sheriff's official blowjob guy. Do you deep throat or is your gag reflex still refined?”

He didn't answer. Judging by the number of people still there, it was already clear that some were listening to the interaction, so you let out another sigh (for what felt like the hundredth time) and turned your back to leave.

“Working with you makes me understand why your husband left you.”

The people on the team who stayed behind heard that as much as you did, because suddenly they were watching the scene expectantly. You closed your eyes, then your fists, and calmly turned to look at him almost over your shoulder. A punch would come in handy. A punch and a little lack of love for the job would so much come in handy.

“He must have another, doesn't he? What was her name? Thinking about it, he must have chosen one less unbearable. Bigger boobs, probably? Better performance in bed?”

When a woman spoke of sexist situations in the workplace, especially in the police, there was a myth that things were more veiled. Well, it wasn’t entirely a lie, but times were different, things took a few progressive forms, so no one just offended you for being a woman like they used to. Your problem with Mathias came from that context, but it wasn't the whole picture of the situation. It was personal. He was uncomfortable because he had a fucking daddy issues complex and needed to replace the anger he received somewhere else.

If it happens to be a woman and, more importantly, you? That was his deal.

He opened his mouth right there, then, with cliché words and dirty comments, because he wanted to get a reaction out of you. Because you were visibly tired and failing to stay resilient – because your divorce became the subject of gossip and people were talking about it.

“I think you should go,” Benny appeared in an instant, getting in the way between you two and staring at Walsh. There was a negative sense of anger coming out of you, mostly because nothing was going to happen, mostly because you were at your limit.

“Oh, I see. You all take rounds with her.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You averted Benny’s body and took one step, then another, your nails biting the skin of your palms.

Before you could go any further, Borracho’s hand flew to hold your arm, and that grounded you a little. You could hear the whispers from other people, the same ones you had nightmares with and Mathias was having the best day of his life.

Benny’s fingers flexed on your forearm, enough to make you take a step back. Walsh scoffed at that, a complete opposite of how you felt (but tried not to show) at that moment – you hated every second of that sensation.

“No biting, kitten. They don't like inexperienced girls,” With a final blow, Mathias walked away, and soon enough everybody dispersed from the show.

You wanted to cry, die, tear up, whatever came first. It hadn't even been 3 hours since you had officially gotten divorced and everything had already started to go to hell. Instead of doing any of those things, however, you swallowed your humiliation with a swallow and a heavy sigh. You broke away from Benny's touch, hearing Gina say something like 'bloody bastard' before telling everyone to go find something better to do.

You could feel Borracho staring at you and you exchanged glances before you assured Gina that you were fine, that you just wanted to go to work and let it go.

“Are you okay?”

Yes, you wanted to say, but you didn't. It makes no difference, you could argue. But Borracho had his merits and he could be very observant, so you knew you couldn't let it go by the simple, uncertain way he looked at you.

“Mm-hm,” You hummed, sunglasses now back in your face.

He didn't ask any more questions.

Whether it was the demeaning comment Mathias made or the way Benny gave you the first sympathetic look since that fucking shit had started in your life, you couldn't tell; the hidden tears you shed in the ladies room later were very genuine anyway.

****

No pressure tags:

@sexuallover

@paintlavillered

#benny borracho magalon #benny magalon x reader #benny borracho magalon x reader #den of thieves #den of thieves fic #maurice compte

36 notes · View notes

boykingdom · 4 years

Text

Dean doesn’t have to drive far before he finds Cas. He’d had a hunch Cas might be waiting for him no matter the direction he went, but still he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees the slump of Cas’ shoulders among the trees.

He doesn’t have to walk far, either, once he’s pulled the Impala into the grass beside the road and let the metal door shut behind him with a creak. He’s in the forest after a few paces—it’s a pretty forest, all green and overgrown, the tan of Cas’ coat standing out purely for its dullness. Cas’ back is to him and he’s looking down at something, hands in his pockets, but the rigidity with which he holds himself gives away his awareness of Dean’s presence. Cas won’t turn toward him but will angle his head so Dean can see the sharp line of his cheekbone, like he’s any sort of thing that would need ears to gauge how close Dean is.

Dean has half a mind to hesitate, to stop and take a deep breath and collect his thoughts or something, but he’s so fucking tired of not being near Cas and of schooling how much he gives away to Cas in every conversation that he walks up so their shoulders are inches apart and he doesn’t think twice about it. He looks down to take in what Cas is looking at and finds a small pond with a few muddy-gray fish scooting their bellies across the silt. Dean thinks Cas might be gearing up for a speech about the fish and creation and humanity, something nice and cinematic to bookend their journey, but instead Cas says, “Hello, Dean.”

That works, too. At least Dean knows how to respond to that one. “Heya, Cas.”

They’re silent for a second.

“Sam?” says Cas.

“Went off to the Roadhouse. Wanted to see Bobby and Ellen and Jo,” says Dean. “But you knew that already.”

“Mm. I did.”

They both watch the fish drift. One comes close enough to the surface to form gentle ripples in the water.

Then Dean is smiling, because he can see Cas out of the corner of his eye, see the way he shifts and fidgets and is so clearly also looking at Dean out of the corner of his own eye. It occurs to Dean that Cas is nervous—that after everything they’ve been through, after the end of the world, after Cas’ big sacrifice, this angel of the Lord is nervous to speak to his best friend of twelve years. Dean can’t help but take the opportunity to tease him.

“What, did you think we’d never talk about it?”

A pause. Cas half-grumbles, “I thought I’d have a few decades to prepare something to say.”

And then Dean is laughing and laughing and bent over double with it because this whole thing is so fucking absurd and he’s so happy to be standing here next to Cas, weird and awkward Cas who pulled him out of Hell and told Dean he was in love with him just months ago. Cas who he thought he had lost forever. Dean laughs so hard he cries and then he—he cries, and cries, and he’s not laughing anymore. It happens fast and hard. Cas finally turns to him, eyes wide and hands suspended in front of him like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch. Dean’s sniveling and holding his jacket sleeve under his nose so his face doesn’t get all snotty but he probably looks fucking gross anyway, the way the tears won’t stop coming. Cas says, “Dean?” all worried and concerned. Dean practically falls forward into him, wraps his arms around Cas’ waist to clutch at the back of his coat and shakes when Cas immediately holds him in return.

“I missed you so bad,” Dean sobs into Cas’ shoulder. “I missed you so bad. I thought I would never see you again. I missed you so bad.”

“Oh,” Cas breathes. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Cas hugs him tighter, leaving no spaces between their bodies. His voice breaks a little when he says, “I missed you, too.”

They stand like that for a moment. The forest buzzes around them, twiddling with birds and squirrels and insects. Dean breathes Cas in, feels him warm and safe and real in his arms. It’s a small piece of Earth here in Heaven. Unlike any other time before, Dean lets himself lean into it, touch Cas without Death looming over their shoulders. It feels good.

Dean does calm down after a few minutes, and as much as he would love to freeze time and stay suspended in that moment, he knows he can have even more if he gives it one last push. He pulls away, Cas’ hands sliding off his coat, lingering. “Sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed despite himself.

“Don’t be,” says Cas, in a way a that shows he really means it. Dean clears his throat and looks at him. Cas looks back. The whole thing is so achingly familiar, so akin to how they were when they first met. Even when Cas was alien and unknowable and potentially a threat, Dean always had to stifle the breathless thrill of having Cas’ attention. He doesn’t stifle it now.

He hasn’t quite internalized all the things Cas said to him, but he can see Cas was telling the truth about one thing—he is clearly so happy to be standing at the edge of this pond with Dean. Nothing in his gaze is asking for something more.

And as much as Cas would argue differently, Dean isn’t as good as him. He was never content just wanting. He had long ago accepted that he could never have Cas, sure, had recognized that he would spend the rest of his life with a horrible ache in his chest, that he would white-knuckle the wheel of the Impala to keep himself from touching. But he couldn’t find peace with it. Love rotted in him like a body at the bottom of a well. He spent a long time thinking it would kill him and kill Cas too, that it was a weapon to be used against them both, that the heat of his gaze would actually burn Cas if he looked long enough. He still has to choke down those half-formed thoughts when he looks at Cas now and can see in his eyes that he loves Dean without reservation, that despite everything he doesn’t think of Dean’s love as a death sentence. That he wants him.

Dean’s mind was made up the second Bobby had mentioned Cas’ name on the porch. It took him too long to untangle that part of himself that couldn’t separate loving men from danger, but he did untangle it, in the end.

“I know I can do it,” Dean says, both to Cas and to himself, “but I think it might be hard.”

Cas’ brow flickers in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he answers, gesturing lamely at the two of them, at the space between them. He swallows, steels himself, thinks of all the words he spent the nights since Cas died murmuring into his pillow, deliriously drunk. “I don’t know— I don’t know how to be this to someone— to you. I’ve never— and you’re—”

He’s getting frustrated, is upset that after thinking so long and hard about this moment for so many years he somehow still doesn’t know how to explain to Cas how much he means to him, how much he wants him, how hard it is to beat down his self-hatred and accept that he might just deserve Cas, too. But Christ, he wants to try.

“Dean?” Cas says. Dean can see in his expression the flowering bud of hope. He is so beautiful.

“I love you too,” Dean says, because it’s the best explanation he can give. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat. Cas blinks; his mouth drops open. “God, Cas, you have to know that. Of course I love you too.”

“You mean...?” Cas can’t finish the question. He’s looking at Dean like a man finding faith, finding Heaven. Dean feels so overwhelmed and so happy for the two of them and surely he’s still red from crying before, but again he feels himself burning.

“I’ve been yours,” he chokes out. “You can have me. Please.”

Cas kisses Dean. It happens so fast that Dean feels it coming rather than sees it, feels Cas’ hands on his face, feels himself be tugged forward. Cas’ hands are shaking and Dean’s are too when he grips the front of Cas’ shirt and the back of his neck, eyes closed tight, learning the shape of his mouth. It’s hard and a little desperate and not at all artful, and Dean’s whole self feels a bit like an open wound but Cas is healing him, like he always has, like he has since the beginning.

Dean pulls away for air but doesn’t pull far, keeping his forehead pressed to Cas’ and his eyes shut. Cas’ thumb strokes his cheekbone. “Dean,” Cas says, and Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath. The way Cas says his name doesn’t scare him anymore.

Dean opens his eyes. He smiles. “Hi,” he says.

Cas smiles back.

They’re sitting in the Impala, Dean’s hand on Cas’ thigh, when Cas asks, “What do you want to do now?”

Dean pauses, thinks. The answer to what do you want has been Cas for so long, but he never let himself think far enough to decide what he would do if he ever got him. He’s safe, Cas is safe, Sam is safe. Realistically, he shouldn’t want for anything.

He looks out the Impala’s windshield, smooths the hand not holding Cas over the steering wheel. He knows that he loves this car with everything he is—that for a long time it was the only home he had. He also knows that he’s tired of the road. Desire has always come too easily to Dean.

“I think I’ll build us a house,” he answers, and immediately he knows it’s the right thing to do. They can pick a spot wherever Cas wants—Dean’s not picky. It’ll be something solid, something with walls that he built with trees he cut himself. Something that reflects the home he already built for Cas, the one that lives between his ribs.

Cas’ eyes light up. “I like that plan,” he says. “I want that, too.”

Years ago, Cas had sat in Dean’s passenger seat and asked him if he would rather have peace or freedom. Dean never got the chance to answer him.

Dean leans across the seat and kisses Cas again, open-mouthed, slow. He does it for him now and for the version of himself who mourned the distance between them. It’s answer enough.

#spn #supernatural #deancas #destiel #15x20 coda #i know the finale happened so long ago and also isn't real but i had to try my hand #i'll reblog this when the europeans wake up 🏃‍♀️#my fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

shinjaeha · 4 years

Text

itsay ep 3 (thoughts + spoilers)

itsay ep 3 fucking obliterated me so here i am with some more thoughts on this episode (drama) in general. this is just me being an incoherent mess bc my mind is basically just one long !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! after having watched this (once raw and again subbed). this isn’t an analysis, it’s literally me just gushing over the ep as i watch it bc boy oh BOY.

WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT EVERYTHING HITTING DIFFERENT AFTER THE BOAT SCENE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if i thought the tension in the boat knocked the breath out of me, this whole ep was that x10000.

they really started us off with a bang having continued straight off from last ep with teh smelling oh-aew’s hair, huh?? teh rubbing his face with the coconut paralleled with oh-aew smelling his coconut scented shampoo?? excuse me as i cry into my hands.

teh wasn’t willing to wake up early for tarn when she wanted to draw early in the morning, but when he sees that oh-aew wants to wake up early to study, HE’S the one that makes sure that oh-aew wakes up (and he stays up to keep oh-aew company, even if it’s just over the phone). then again when they’re at the resort...love that tarn realises that too. boy ain’t subtle. also, how is it even possible that they can have that much tension just speaking over the phone?? they’re not even in the same room and the tension between the two of them is so thick i can barely breathe.

the “let me know when you’re home”!!!!!!!!!!!!! BOYFRIEND BEHAVIOUR. as soon as oh-aew asked teh why he always asked tarn that, i KNEW they were gonna put that in there for him and oh-aew and i’m glad i wasn’t disappointed :))) the look on oh-aew’s face when he saw the text!!!!!!!!!!! the way he stopped in his tracks!!!!!!!!!

i already had a feeling that oh-aew was going to be the first one to properly realise and accept his feelings for teh based on the teasers (makes sense since he already knows he likes boys...he’s more sure of his sexuality, which would of course make it easier for him to accept based on that). seeing the way he used the ‘if you get close to him and he doesn’t move away it means he likes you’ theory that teh initially told him to try on bas with teh too was really cute. and the jealousy over tarn. i LOVED that we got to see a more petty side to him when he announced he was going to room with bas partly bc of how lowkey jealous/mad he was about teh and tarn talking over the phone. it left teh so unsettled and confused (the piano music was PERFECT in that scene), and is 510% something teh would have done too (based on the previous two eps). they really are a perfect match huh. but poor bas being caught in the middle of the two of them ;;;

i liked that a lot of this ep was from oh-aew’s perspective. i feel like we got mostly teh’s pov in the first two eps, so it was really nice to see things from oh-aew’s pov too. gave us all more insight into his personality and he’s honestly SO MUCH more flirty than i thought he was going to be omg. the potato chip scene where he just crawled over to teh and ate that potato chip all the while staring straight at teh, then lying on his lap?????????? teh was (understandably) flustered after that AND SO WAS I. i was not expecting that whatsoever. i was also really impressed with how honest oh-aew was about his feelings. i love that he’s stayed true to their previous heart to heart in the boat scene last ep where he basically told teh that he wanted transparency between the two of them. he’s sticking to that, and i admire him so much for being able to be that vulnerable and true to himself. i thought there might have been more confusion with bas, but it looks like as soon as he realised his feelings might have faded/that he was feeling things for teh now, he just went with it. i know in my last text post i said that oh-aew is usually the more cautious/pragmatic of the two, but i feel like when it comes to his feelings, he seems to be really in tune with who and what he wants (more so than teh). this of course makes sense bc he’s likely had more time to come to terms with his sexuality...which is what teh’s figuring out for himself now. on top of that, oh-aew’s feelings for teh are a lot stronger than the ones he has for bas. and since he’s also more certain that teh likes him back, he’s so much bolder in how he approaches teh. and teh, to his credit, returns that honesty too when oh-aew basically pushes him into acknowledging that there’s ~something between them (hammock scene). i was kind of expecting him to push away from that/deny it, but he didn’t. he’s obviously just a lot more confused with his feelings and still needs some time to understand them and process them fully. on a related note, hammock scene was so loaded and SO well acted by the both of them. the fact that they can move from playful in one scene too achingly intense in another always throws me for a loop.

another thing i really love about the two of them is how they push one another to be better. it’s that rivalry that makes their bond even stronger, but it’s also something that worries me for future eps ngl...

but i honestly feel SO BAD for bas...clearly, he likes oh-aew, and although oh-aew was initially confused with the two of them, he’s definitely more convinced when it comes to his feelings for teh. but when bas essentially asked oh-aew out, and oh-aew said let’s invite the rest of they guys?? he looked so sad and my heart kind of broke a little. it’s like watching the poor second lead in a kdrama. and tarn too :( i really hope that when teh accepts his feelings for oh-aew, he doesn’t keep her hanging on the way that most BLs tend to do. she deserves so much better than that. my heart really hurts for the both of them, but at the same time teh and oh-aew are just magnets being pulled together at this point. they can’t stay away from each other.

the scene where teh rubs the smell of oh-aew’s coconut scented pen (from what he’s written) all over his face bc he’s at his limit and can’t stand all those pent up feelings anymore, only to race out to their special meeting place on the beach????? the moment he sees that oh-aew’s there too and he chases after him entranced (and the smile on oh-aew’s face)????? the way the instrumental ost just swells the moment they see each other????? the way they tease and dance around another yet again????? PURE ART. A CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE. THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DRAMA I HAVE EVER SEEN. this whole sequence has to be my fave scene in this ep. god, that part where the camera closes in on them and they’re face to face before oh-aew steps away again had my heart trying to flutter its way out of my CHEST. THEY HAVEN’T EVEN KISSED IN THE SERIES YET AND THEY CAN REDUCE ME TO THIS. honestly, their power is something else. the fact that they can stir so many emotions in all of us just by the way they glance at one another, by the way they dart around one another barely touching...there are dramas/movies with multiple kiss/love scenes that can’t even create that tension and longing. it’s the kind of chemistry that burns you inside out. it’s so palpable.

the thigh massage scene had me CAPTIVATED (like all their scenes tbh) and then teh’s mum came to wake me (and the both of them) up haha. but for real, there’s just something so tentative about what’s happening. these feelings are new to them, and they’re easing their way into it. always toeing the line, but not overstepping it yet. it’s primal. they keep letting those feelings build up more and more and more. and you can always feel the way it’s leading to something else. and of course it leads into the next scene where teh’s tutoring oh-aew again but the atmosphere is so incredibly heavy, so tight, that they can’t contain it anymore (i mean, the fact that they contained it for so long when they’re teenage boys with feelings for one another is already astounding enough to me). teh tries so hard, but then the back scratch happens and...THIS ICONIC SCENE...i thought they were going to kiss then (before oh-aew turned around), but then we got something else entirely and the intimacy of it all. just wow. literally not a single kiss and it was one of the most sensual scenes i have ever seen in a BL. it’s just the way they get so caught up in one another. THE YEARNING OF IT ALL. this whole ep was just pure anticipation, and i have never ever wanted two characters to kiss more than i do these two. it’s the build up that gets me (idk if this can be considered slow build since there’s only been like three eps but it sure as hell feels like it!!!!!!!!!). then teh pulls away and it’s like a smack in the gut...but at the same time, i get it. he’s not ready yet. there’s so much for him to take in and he’s not there yet (not the way oh-aew is), and just like oh-aew, it keeps us all hanging on, so close but not quite there yet.

so much of this felt like this cat and mouse game between the both of them where one of them would advance, then retract...it makes the tension between the two of them even MORE overwhelming bc you keep anticipating something, and you get fleeting moments of it, but then it’s over by the time you blink. they keep toying with one another, but not crossing the line YET bc they know that that’ll change everything the moment they do. it’s such a testament to the writing AND the acting bc it’s the chemistry that bkpp have with one another that creates all of that push and pull dynamic, that yearning and desire. having to wait a whole week again is just devastating...i think next ep seems like it might be the climax?? i’m pretty sure it’ll be the ep where teh accepts his feelings (or at least won’t be able to hold himself back physically anymore), where all the build up finally properly erupts, but at the same time, i just know that the angst is going to start piling up and idk how to feel other than terrified bc i’m way too invested now tbh.

anyway, this drama is absolutely magnificent, and all i want to do is rave about how damn good it is. so high quality. it feels so fresh, like they’re reinvented the tried and true coming of age tale in a way, and we’re all just along for the ride. it transcends the typical thai BL story (and i now understand why they were hesitant to label this as BL when it really feels like it encompasses so much more than the usual BL tropes and story). one of my fave dramas of the year by far (BL or otherwise). it’s just a class apart from any drama i’ve watched before and ticks every single box for me. stunning in every way. down to every detail and every feeling and emotion. it’s so raw and real and i can’t praise what nadao and the team have done with this enough (and we still have 2 more eps to go!!). there’s just so much meaning in every little thing, and in all those little things you can see the time and care it’s taken them to make this.

#wait have i talked about the ost and how they use music and silence in this bc it's brilliant!! perfection!!#i told sunset about you #itsay #bkpp #text #oh and not to mention the chinese lyrics being translated to thai STUNNING #nothing else can compare to how this series makes me feel i could write essays upon essays of my thoughts and it wouldn't be enough #it's the headiness of the two of them that has taken my apart in every way #this has felt like the longest week ever and this next week is going to feel even LONGER until the day i get a new ep once again #i think i prob have more things i want to say but i can't think of anything else off the top of my head i just needed to rant somewhere #normally i would just leave my thoughts and feelings in the tags but this is just too much the way the both of them overwhelm us all #you KNOW i'm gonna rewatch this again bc i can't help myself i really can't #i have a couple feelings on how the end could go and it absolutely worries everything inside of me bc there's A LOT of foreshadowing #going around and it's just got me feeling :///#climax next week (i'm pretty sure it'll be next week) is gonna feel like a volcanic explosion after all this waiting #i can't wait till we get the other teaser and i know what's happening in the next ep preview one too #we're getting the infamous neck kiss in ep 4 and it's gonna scrape out my insides just you fucking watch #i will sob until there is nothing left of me #didn't billkin describe the neck kiss as just the sauce???????? fuck i'm not ready I'M NOT READY #the way this is the only thing i want to talk about for days months years decades #the feel of it def reminds me of cmbyn and yeah i totally see it #it's the authenticity of it somehow

64 notes · View notes

spiritmaiden23 · 4 years

Text

last ooc post because i do feel bad constantly posting with no writing to show for it but this counts as headcanon of sorts, a very sloppy one but still one to keep in mind for those who ship romantically with meeeee!!

the cinematic parallels between how both my zeldas (sky and alttp) is *chef kiss* poetic fucking cinema. LET ME EXPLAIN!!! First though, ugly headcanon banner to show that this post is legit!

I’ve only mentioned this a few times with a few people, namely Bear and Legend but ALTTP Zelda, though she has a habit with bottling up her feelings all for the name of being a dutiful royal all while maintaining her usual placid attitude; Princess Zelda is still very, very emotionally intelligent! What she does is not exactly healthy bottling up every thought but she doesn’t have the luxury of allowing herself to freely speak her mind at the cost of losing points with the public, ya dig? So, it takes a while for her to fall for someone mainly because she’s at war with herself in figuring out all of these emotions and what this means for her status (SINCE PRINCESS ZELDA SEEMS TO HAVE A THING FOR NOT ROYAL PEOPLE MAINLY WHOLESOME IDIOTS AS WE ESTABLISHED AT TELESTHISIA.TUMBLR.COM MANY TIMES HWEOH) it’s not that she’s dense, she’s well-aware of romance but she doesn’t know how to deal and lacks courage in confronting her feels. Once she breaks that whole bottling up habit, that’s where the fun begins because my girl is all like “you know what? i love this person! i love them, and i will show them” because again high emotional intelligence and ALTTP Zelda is a very, very loving girl. All Zeldas are as a matter of fact but ALTTP Zelda is someone who likes to show her affections through actions rather than words. So expect constant hand holding, hugs, and kisses! Her boldness plays into the whole “yolo” mindset she has a the result of being surrounded by death constantly as well as Limited Lifespan but like, that’s a whole other can of worms. More or less, enjoy the time you’ve got and love like tomorrow will be your last!

NOW WITH SKY AKA MISS. SHOUJO PROTAG OVER HERE, HOOO OK!!! The fun thing about the beginning of Skyward Sword and Sky Zelda in general is that it gives me the vibes of cute, wholesome, shoujo tropes we tend to see! I’m talking cute, playful, plucky girl next door vibes who has an amazing bond with her childhood friend, Link. For Link and Zelda of that game it can be played as either romantic (very strongly implied) or not for those who don’t like the ship! So, I more or less took things of how this Zel acts on her feelings from the beginning of the game as well as her emotionally maturity and growth as a girl who comes to term with being a mortal goddess. I feel like Sky Zel also has great emotional intelligence! But it’s not exactly on the same level as my ALTTP Zelda, who had to grow up fast as the result of her environments and duty. On top of that, Sky Zelda is someone who wears her heart on her sleeves, she’s very much an open book where you can read every thought through both expression and whatever actions she makes. She’s very funny in that regard because of how easy she gives into her emotions, even post game it’ll take her time to let logic take control over emotions when it comes to decisions. So when it comes to love she’s actually very shy in expressing that. Mainly because it’s all new territory for her. Romance isn’t something that she experiences all too often and like my ALTTP Zelda it takes her time to fall in love HOWEVER unlike my Princess Zelda she doesn’t at first understand what the hell all these fuzzy doki, doki feels are. Like any other Shoujo Protag she’s just like a blushing mess and becomes quite shy and cute.

This little shot where she’s playing with her hands as she shyly asks Link to go flying as she does the anime “neeeee” in this cutscene will always be the cutest god damn thing to me!!!! I’m getting off track here point is, it’ll take her a while until she comes to that Love Realization moment and until then she will be shy in expressing her interest because she has no idea what the heck she’s doing hence why I always go “haha jk unless” joke with her beCAUSE THAT’S LITERALLY HER! As for showing affection? Lots of “I love you!!!” And junk like that, pet names etc etc! Flirting but like with Meaning™ to it rather than it just being playful banter that doesn’t mean much. And very much someone who’s having their first love! It’s cute in other words!

As for the Sky Zel post game would she be the same? Yes and no... she’s far more melancholic because she has retrieve her memories as Hylia and like she has a lot of guilt to deal with as well as constantly worrying over Link and how the Skyloftians will react to living on The Surface along with the Triforce and etc etc. She has too much on her plate so love will be a super slow burn in that verse too. Wowie!

Here’s a cute thing to imagine that’s super unrelated: Sky Zelda making a list for her first date and how things will go and ending it with a kiss BUT EVERYTHING GOES OFF PLAN AND SHE’S STRESSED!!!

In short: Slow Burn is a def a thing not just because I love me some slow burn but I feel with their characters it would work better than something like love at first sight! But they are still very loving and I believe it’s worth the wait ;v; so if you’re ok with the wait then welcome to hell to my future shipping partners! (Also be careful of the goddesses ready smite you for dating mortal goddess)

#| piece of heart: headcanon.#wOWOWOWOW IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I WROTE A HEADCANON POST #but i try to include these little things in writings so shoutout to those who notice this ;v;#i have no clue how to end this post here is good right? right!

4 notes · View notes

spectralarchers · 4 years

Text

fic writer tag game :)

I was tagged by @stormxpadme, thanks darling! I don’t think I’ve ever done this so far!

AO3 name: spectralarchers

Fandoms:

The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Marvel Cinematic Universe

The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Marvel (Comics)

Marvel

Marvel Ultimates

Marvel 616

Powerpuff Girls (it’s for the Scooby Doo AU...)

Hawkeye (Comics)

Avengers (Comics)

The Hurt Locker (2008)

His Dark Paterials - Philip Pullman

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Totally Spies (also for the Scooby Doo AU...)

Captain Marvel (2019)

Sherlock (TV)

Scooby Doo - All Media Types

Number of fics published:

34 - not a lot by any means, I should say, lol. I’m a slow writer, and I’m teaching myself to write shorter stuff instead of my 50k+ monstrosities.

Fic I spent the most time on:

Well, I started ‘Til the skies bleed ashes in November 2018 and I’m still not done with it, so I’m going on two years for that story.

HOWEVER, I started Destroyed Under Gods in November 2016 and I only finished that in November 2019, so that’s three years, so it’s probably that story that I’ve spent the most time on, I think, lol. BUT I FINISHED IT IN THE END!

Fic I spent the least time on:

Some of my shorter things. I mean, quiet when i’m coming home and i’m on my own is only 700 words, and I think that roughly took 20 minutes at the most to write.

Longest fic:

Swallow Your Soul - that’s 114,400 words in total. That’s followed by Destroyed Under Gods with 87,418 words, and in third, there’s ‘Til the skies bleed ashes which is currently at 80,172 words, so it’ll probably overtake Destroyed Under Gods when I finally get a grip and update it.

Shortest fic:

Give me fuel, give me fire, give me that which I desire from 2014 sits at 598 words. I barely even remember what it’s about, lol.

Most hits:

Swallow Your Soul with 7,382 hits!

Most kudos:

Nothing else matters with 211 kudos!

Most comment threads:

Also Swallow Your Soul with 129 comments threads for 245 comments in total.

Most bookmarks:

And we have a newcomer on the pitch with Remember, I loved you, which as 42 bookmarks!

Total word count:

534.620 words in total!

Half a million! That’s an average of 15,724 words per story, considering I’ve only written 34, but we all know that it’s my NaNo-monsters who shake the wordcount, lol.

Favourite fic I wrote:

Nothing Burns like the Cold, I think, because it was fascinating and super interesting to do all the research that went into the story and all the politics I had to weave into the story.

Reading on Greenland’s global position before, during and after WWII and during the Cold War in order to paint a relatively believable story of it was one of the best things I’ve ever done. Ever. And I’m so glad that so many of you have left feedback that you’ve learned something from it!

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on:

I could write more on Nothing Burns like the Cold - just for the sake of expanding still, but I’m more interesting in expanding stories featuring Barney Barton as a main character, to be honest.

Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on:

Chapter 10 of ‘Til the skies bleed ashes:

“I am bringing you a gift,” Ramonda says, motioning to Nakia, who walks up to Thor, handing him the pouch.

Not knowing what to say as he opens it, Thor needs to sit down. Finally, the words make it out of his mouth, barely. “I cannot accept it.”

Ramonda smiles, while Nakia nods, ushering the pouch closer to him.

I also have a couple of ideas I’ve mostly been talking to people privately about:

That Barney Barton centric fic, which I’m still figuring out plot-wise.

That “5 iconic tall buildings and/or architectural wonders Clint Barton has dangled off of while on missions” story I thought about a while ago (Sydney Opera House, Golden Gate Bridge, Nîmes Roman amphitheater, Øresund Bridge between Denmark & Sweden, and I was thinking maybe Angkor Wat, since my mom and sister have just been there)

That “5 times Clint Barton experienced a natural disaster first hand and survived” story I have had in mind for a long time (the five things would be tornado, tsunami, bushfire, flood and drought, but I still need to figure out the details of that)

That “5 times Clint had to cash in on a favor” with the 5 favors being crossovers: Lara Croft (Angelina Jolie version), Frank Martin (The Transporter, Jason Statham version), Brian O’Conner (Paul Walker, Fast & Furious), something something Expendables, something something Men in Black (because Goose, Carol’s cat, and the cat in the first movie are both flerkens, obviously).

A bunch of other stuff I text people and am like “imagine if” like that one Teen Wolf / Werewolf AU thing, the Vampire/Werewolf hunter thing, the "reincarnated as old gods” thing and more.

*****

I’m going to tag @solrosan, @vinnie2757, @fezwearingjellybananas, @stephrc79 and @brendaonao3, if you feel like it! :D

#about me #fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

shadowsparrowfic · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tony Stark/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Original Female Character(s), Tony Stark, Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Happy Hogan, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Extremely Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Tags Are Hard, salty language Summary:

Mina Taylor only tried to trust her inner voice - she never thought she was saving The Richest Man in America. Unwittingly caught up in the whirlwind that is Tony Stark's life, their shaky relationship soon grows into real friendship. But can they derail the fateful forces bearing down on them? And will either of them acknowledge the uneasy feeling that their friendship is growing into something more intimate?

(This is one fic in a large series of intertwined planned stories. How these stories will be intertwined will become abundantly clear as the story progresses, but for now, it'll be a mystery.

Chapter-specific trigger warnings will be in the notes before each chapter. Please take care.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m not quite sure how tagging works on tumblr (it’s not my usual site to read fic), so if you have any recommendations or tips on how to tag better, please leave me a comment! <3

#tony stark x original female character

1 note · View note

letterboxd · 5 years

Photo

Most Picture 2020.

In which we award the Most Picture Oscar to the most-rewatched of the 2020 Best Picture nominees, and track down the Letterboxd member who most obsessively rewatched the Most Obsessively Rewatched Film in our 2019 Year in Review—Avengers: Endgame—to ask “Why?”.

Once again, we dive into the data on the Oscar Best Picture nominees to name not the Best Picture (respect to Parasite!), but what is the Most Picture, as in, which of the nine 2020 finalists was rewatched the most by Letterboxd members?

And the 2020 “Most” Picture Award goes to… Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

Letterboxd member Movie15 has the distinction of having logged Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood the most—a whopping 26 times since its August release, and though he hasn’t reviewed it on Letterboxd, we’ve enjoyed his quest to see Tarantino’s latest in as many Los Angeles movie theaters as possible, on 35mm as often as he can.

Bong Joon-ho’s multi-Academy-Award-winning masterpiece, Parasite, comes next, just 859 views behind—Khoi is the Letterboxd member who has most obsessively rewatched the film to date, with eleven recorded watches. Third place (and almost 14,000 views behind the two leaders) goes to Joker, watched the most (seventeen times) by Kenai Fleck, a hard-core Batman fan.

In fourth place, Little Women. Micah Simmons has logged the film fourteen times (but may in fact be pushing 20 views). On the thirteenth view, “I have nothing to add, except for mentioning a shot right before the scene where Amy does *the thing* to Jo, and there’s a crazy shot that foreshadows *the thing* so well and fuck this movie is smart.” Then come Marriage Story, The Irishman, 1917, Jojo Rabbit and Ford v. Ferrari in that order.

The official Letterboxd Most Picture list reveals the combined number of watches for all members with two or more entries for these films.

The Rewatches We Logged Along the Way

Avengers: Endgame was the Most Obsessively Rewatched Film of 2019 in our Year in Review, which means it had the highest number of Letterboxd members logging it five or more times in their diaries.

Member Max Joseph has the distinction of having logged Avengers: Endgame more times than any other. When we told him we needed to know why, he replied: “I’d be honored to talk about my love for Avengers Endgame!” Spoilers follow in this Q&A with Max (though at this point if you haven’t seen Avengers: Endgame it’s probably only because Max has watched it for you). This interview was conducted prior to the 2020 Academy Awards.

How many times do you think you have seen Avengers: Endgame? Max Joseph: Well, I’ve logged it 26 times as of today. But I also think there are a good three or four watches I didn’t log because I occasionally put it on before bed, and just never logged it. So I’d say my final answer is 29, but that honestly may be lowballing it. I have a feeling that by the time the Oscars roll around, it’ll probably be at 30. I always watch every single film, documentary and short nominated for the Oscars, and thankfully, Endgame was nominated!

What’s your reaction to the news that you are the member who has logged it the most? Kind of shocked! I really didn’t even realize how many times I watched it until you told me! I watch Avengers: Endgame because it brings me happiness, and I love the adventure! When it finally came out on Blu-ray and digital, there were a few times I would watch it multiple times in one day. Then I’d throw something else on, then get upset that I wasn’t watching Avengers. So maybe it isn’t as shocking as I had thought!

What keeps you coming back to it? I love all genres of film. Take this season for example. I love the more meaty and dramatic films like Parasite, 1917, Waves, Queen & Slim. I love comedies like Jojo Rabbit and Booksmart. Animation like Toy Story 4, Frozen II and Klaus.

But, you give me someone flying, turning invisible, super speed… that’s where I live. Superhero movies are just my favorites, and I think the reason I keep coming back to Avengers: Endgame is because besides being a superhero movie—which I just naturally gravitate towards—in Endgame, I get a little bit of every genre and mood. I also like that it’s split up into three acts, and each act gives me what I want in a superhero movie:

Act one is the slow burn, which we never really got in the MCU up to this point. It’s the aftermath of Avengers: Infinity War, and them dealing with the implications and the new normal of the universe. And this gives a chance for the story to build, and our actors to show off, especially Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans and Scarlett Johansson. It gives something new to the fans of the franchise and is one of the biggest reasons I keep coming back for more.

Act two is the “time heist” and it is a pure love letter to the fans of the franchise. They revisit some of the best parts of our MCU journey over the last eleven years and mess with it. Is it fan service? Absolutely! But I think they did it right.

Act three is the final battle at the now-destroyed Avengers headquarters. And this was where the slow burn pays off. It is what we’ve all been waiting for since 2008. The grand finale. The culmination of eleven years and 22 films. We are gifted my favorite battle I’ve ever seen, bone-chilling and heartbreaking moments, as well as the most cathartic endings to the most epic story I’ve ever had the privilege to watch, nearly 30 times over.

What have you noticed with each rewatch? Two things: firstly, how unbelievable the visual effects are. I may be alone in this, but I think Marvel has the best visual effects on the planet. By miles. And rewatching this makes me appreciate how much time and dedication was put into making this. So much happened behind the scenes, that I personally don’t really think about while watching it. But after 26 views, I start to think about green screens, the motion capturing, all of those elements, it’s insane! Go on YouTube and just check out all of that work they did visually. It’s beautiful.

Secondly, how brilliant Robert Downey Jr. is. I’ve been saying it for years, but RDJ was born to play Tony Stark. Has he had many other brilliant performances throughout his career? Absolutely. But I think that if he was not cast as Iron Man, this franchise wouldn’t have turned out the way it did. He is the heart of the MCU. And he has so many brilliant moments throughout the film, meets his dad during the “time heist”, the realization of “the one”, even the way he interacts with his daughter, Morgan. It’s truly exceptional work. I think it’s his best performance as Stark.

What is the single greatest scene in the film? Oy, well that’s near impossible. A few standouts are Cap wielding Mjölnir, the scene with Tony and his dad, the reveal of Professor Hulk, thicc Thor, Cap vs. Cap, “the snap”. There are so many! But I think the popular answer is also the greatest, and that is when our Avengers return.

As soon as I heard Sam Wilson’s (Falcon) voice, I lost my mind. And they brilliantly added “On your left” right before all the portals open up. “On your left” is a callback to Captain America: The Winter Soldier. That’s the first line of the movie, and is repeated again at the end. Both times are between Sam and Steve, and it was the same in Endgame. And then you add Alan Silvestri’s score (the song is titled ‘Portals’) which is building and building with emotion, which leads into Cap finally saying…

“Avengers (music cuts) Assemble”… (enter Avengers theme song)

It. Is. Perfection. I have chills as I type this. It was probably the greatest theater experience I’ve had in my life. I was sobbing. Imagine how I was by the end…

What has the overall Avengers cinematic adventure meant to you? I remember seeing the first Iron Man in theaters with some friends in 2008. We all dressed up in suits, because we were at a high school awards show kind of thing, and just went straight to the theater, and we had the best time. From the first moment ’til the end, when Tony says, “I am Iron Man”, then Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’ starts playing, my jaw was on the floor. I gave a standing ovation. In a suit. From that moment on, I knew that this was made for me.

It has given me the greatest moments in a movie theater, incredible discussions with friends and strangers, and although it may seem cheesy, some much-needed happiness in some of the most difficult times in my life. I watch these stories because I love them. They mean something to me. They are an important part of who I am.

What would you say to people who say that blockbusters like these aren't ‘real’ cinema? Hahaha! This is a hilarious question, and I’m thrilled that you asked it. I’ve actually had a good 20 people ask me this, and I always said that I’d write something or make a video about it, so here we go…

Let me start off by saying that Martin Scorsese is arguably one of the greatest directors of all time. I love his work, I respect it, and I encourage everyone to watch his full repertoire, ’cause it’s beautiful.

That being said… ‘real cinema’ is a matter of opinions. To me, Avengers: Endgame is just as much real cinema, as The Irishman, Goodfellas, The Shawshank Redemption, The Godfather, anything. I don’t care who you are, you can be Martin Scorsese, Kevin Feige, one of my friends, a stranger, I don’t think you have the right to tell me what is ‘real cinema’. You can say something isn’t good, or only being made to earn a profit, but you don’t get to say that movies like this aren’t worthy of being ‘real cinema’. To me, they are. You’re more than entitled to that opinion! I just happen to disagree with you, but you’re not wrong by any means. I’m entitled to my opinion, you’re entitled to yours. And that’s what it comes down to. Opinions.

Thicc Thor—keep or send back to the gym? I totally don’t care. Taika Waititi figured out how to write that character in Thor: Ragnarok, and thankfully they continued writing him this way in Endgame. So as long as the writers continue on the path that Waititi sent him on, I’m good. Make him thicc, give him an eight-pack, as long as the character has purpose and the lines flow naturally, I’m more than satisfied with whatever he looks like.

How amped are you to learn more about Natasha’s background in this year’s Black Widow? Finally! We’ve been waiting since Iron Man 2, and it is finally time for the Black Widow movie she deserves! I’m fascinated by the Red Room, which was where she started her training as a Russian spy. They showed us glimpses of her beginnings in 2015’s Avengers: Age of Ultron, and I’ve always been hungry for more information because it looked really interesting.

I also think that we may finally find out what happened in Budapest. It was first mentioned in The Avengers back in 2012, as a bit of banter between Black Widow and Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner), and has kind of been a mystery ever since. It was actually mentioned again in Endgame. I’m basing this on the San Diego Comic-Con Hall H panel. There was a title card that said “Budapest”, so it would make sense that we’re gonna get what we’ve been asking for!

I’m also thrilled because the cast is awesome. Obviously double Oscar-nominated actor this season, Scarlett Johansson, Rachel Weisz, David Harbour and one of my favorite actors, Florence Pugh, who had an unbelievable 2019, with Fighting With My Family, Midsommar (one of my favorite performances of the decade), and she topped it off with an Oscar-nominated performance in Little Women!

What do you think should win best picture at this year’s Oscars? Parasite. And it’s not even close. I think Parasite is one of the greatest films I’ve seen in my life. I think it deserves that number one slot on your Top 250 Narrative Features list.

It features the best performance from an ensemble, Song Kang-ho should have been nominated for supporting actor (he should be winning). The production design is fabulous. They literally built the Park family’s house for the film! Hong Kyung-pyo’s photography is worthy of being framed. He created a few shots that are permanently engraved in my head (in a good way). And of course, Bong Joon-ho’s direction flows with emotion and his script is original, gripping and electric. He is the definition of a visionary, at the top of his game.

Parasite is the crowning achievement of the decade and should be awarded as such. It would be the perfect way to end the decade with the first foreign-language film (now titled “International Feature Film”) winning Best Picture at the Oscars. #BONGHIVE all the way!

What do you think will win? My heart says Parasite, but I think it may end up going to something like Once Upon a Time… In Hollywood, The Irishman or 1917 (which is in my top ten this year). The easy answer is probably Hollywood because it won the Globe, but that doesn’t always translate into an Oscar.

But if it’s not Parasite, I think it should be 1917. It is a technical work of art from Oscar, Golden Globe and Tony Award-winning director Sam Mendes. Roger Deakins outdid himself and is pretty much guaranteed to earn his second Oscar [update: he did!]. Thomas Newman’s score is probably my favorite of the year (possibly of his career), followed closely by Emile Mosseri’s for The Last Black Man in San Francisco and Hildur Guðnadóttir’s for Joker. And George MacKay and Dean-Charles Chapman should be on everyone’s radar. They’re phenomenal. It’s shaping up to be quite a race this year!

What’s your favorite thing about Letterboxd? I think the reason I love it so much is because it feels like a family. I’ve had such a passion for the cinema for my whole life, and I like to share it wherever I can. But other social platforms (as wonderful as they are), aren’t always the best place to post about every single movie I’ve watched, or a top ten that I make. Letterboxd is the only place where I can let out all of my opinions, all of my thoughts, without feeling embarrassed or like I’m bothering anyone when I say how perfect Avengers: Endgame is. Or if I watch it and spot something new, I can post about it, and have great conversations about what I’ve discovered. It is the place for movie lovers, and it actually helped me love movies more, and to learn more about the crews, studios, and everything behind the film.

#AVENGERS #AVENGERS ENDGAME #letterboxd #most rewatched #most rewatched film #best picture #oscar #oscars #oscar2020 #oscars2020

4 notes · View notes

ao3feed-winterhawk2-archive · 5 years

Link

by askmeaboutmyoctopustheory

“It’ll get them off our back for a while.” Bucky finished lamely.

“You realize we’d have to get married to truly get away from our family’s meddling, right?”

“Eh, we can probably amicably break up after you’ve got a life set up here in Indianapolis.”

“Alright Barnes.” Clint sighed but chuckled quietly. “Let’s date.”

----

this is an AU based on those reddit husbands

Words: 1517, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel 616

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, George Barnes (Marvel), Winifred Barnes, Rebecca Barnes Proctor, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton

Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Slow Burn, Living Together, Trans Clint Barton, Gay Bucky Barnes, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied Transphobia, midwestern gothic, Aggresively Stereotypical Indiana Behavior

#WinterHawk #Bucky/Clint #Clint/Bucky #Bucky Barnes #Clint Barton #IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic

1 note · View note

patruchilles · 5 years

Text

fandoms !! + why i love them

these are just my favourite fandoms from tv shows. i was going to do a conjoined one of books+movies+tv shows but i feel like this is gonna be a long ass post and let’s keep it short. enjoy! these shows are amazing (i say this word more then ten times) and i definitely recommend it.

———

brooklyn nine-nine — legit, this hooked me from the beginning. it’s so soft and gentle but also deals with serious issues in an understanding way. it’s funny and quirky and really does give a good laugh. it’s heart felting, and revolves around the development of characters and their backstories, as well as the romances, but that isn’t the main idea. it gets better with each season.

friends — i watch this ten times a year. i never get sick of it. i laugh as if it’s my first time seeing it. i get frustrated, i get angry, but i love, love, love, love it. the character’s dynamic is amazing, and all their friendships with each other are truly unique. their characters remain the same for the ten years, but you see them grow up and eventually you do, too. with them.

anne with an e — i don’t know where to watch season 3 of this. but other than that, this series is based on the novel “anne of green gables”. it’s amazing, amazing, as well as the books. it’s so eloquent and gentle, and all the characters are loveable and easy to understand. this series deals with romance, family troubles, and growing up as well.

stranger things — people may think this series is overrated and they’re absolutely right but it deserves to be overrated. it’s amazing. it’s worth it. the character’s are unique and their development is extraordinary *cough*harrington*cough* it’ll have you hooked, each episode. you’ll wonder what’s coming next. it’s just—no words. cinematic is amazing. it’s excellence.

teen wolf — one of my favourite series. it’s hooking from the beginning, and it gets so good from season 3 and onwards. it’s intense, and each episode will leave you wondering what happened next? + you’ll fall in love with the characters. honestly. they’re just that loveable.

avatar: the last airbender — i watched this show as a child and i still do now. it’s amazing. it’s even hooking for teenagers. you’ll fall in love with the characters like i did, especially a particular fire wielding character with a scar across his face who is extremely emo and awkward. the character development is amazing. their friendship is amazing. the intensity of the last few episodes (and the last season in general) is beautiful.

on my block — this episode has had me hooked from the first episode. it’s comedic but also deals with certain issues in society, but is suitable for ages 13+ it offers a good laugh but also gives a good cry. i can’t wait for season 3 i’m going to cry. it’s such a good show.

gilmore girls — a show about love, family and growing up. i was tempted to scream from frustration but that’s the beauty of it. sometimes. but it’s worth it watching this show. it’s so heartwarming and cute.

how i met your mother — the concept of this whole show is amazing, and they built it up so well. each episode is hooking, and you won’t be able to stop binging it. you’ll fall in love with it.

the umbrella academy — you will watch episode after episode without realising it. the development of characters (except one.) is amazing. the action scenes are so intense and the soundtrack of this series is f-ing beautiful and makes your heart have seizures from the strong emotions

miraculous ladybug — i don’t care what you say about this show being kiddy because whatever, i love it. i’m a teenager and i am in love with this more than half of the children’s population. you’ll fall in love with adrien and marinette, as well as chat noir and ladybug. it’s such a slow burn and it still is but the characters develop beautifully. i do resist the temptation to scream from frustration occasionally.

the end of the f***ing world — EMOTIONS. this had me h o o k e d. it’s kinda weird at first but that’s the beauty of it. you’ll fall in love with alyssa and james as well as their journey and beautiful romance. cannot wait for season 2. *cries*

that’s it. i’m done. there’s more but my hands hurt from typing. au revior!

#tvshows #fandoms #toomuchtoname #toomanyemotions #can'tcontromyself #broiminlovewiththeseshows #MASTERPIECES #beautiful #cries

5 notes · View notes

thesinglesjukebox · 5 years

Video

youtube

LANA DEL REY - THE GREATEST

[7.71]

The discourse is lit...

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Lana Del Rey's embrace of decades-old American culture has always been a window into the present, so it's no surprise that her invocations of rock music and Dennis Wilson's deaths on "The Greatest" are signposts for our own inevitable demise. But even before she concludes the song with ruminations on California wildfires, Hawaii's false missile alert, and the possible necessity of colonizing Mars, you can sense the knowing dread in the midsong guitar solo and her affected vocalizing. She declares that she's "wasted" with poise and romantic longing, stretching the word out into a rallying cry; she intimates that debauchery is not just an expected response to contemporary anxieties, but an empowering action in times of seeming powerlessness. She channels that same depressing spirit in her semi-ironic delivery of the song's most memorable couplet -- "The culture is lit and I had a ball/I guess that I'm burned out after all" -- toying with its dual meaning to succinctly portray how escapism in end times isn't indecent behavior, but a necessary means toward survival and acceptance of one's fate. The sparse guitar strums and piano melodies that close out the song anticipate the somber eventuality that awaits us, but can that be much worse than right now? Worse than a time when "dancing with you" and "doing nothing" can be nostalgic pastimes due to never ending stress? Whatever the case, we'll collectively watch as it happens; it's the "live stream" that Lana hints at in the final line, and it'll be of cinematic proportions: "the greatest loss of them all." [9]

Joshua Copperman: "The culture is lit, and if this is it‚ I had a ball." This line is everything I hate about the aesthetics of this decade, but it IS the aesthetic of this decade, at least the latter half. Apart from rare, usually unintentional exceptions, something about 2010s voice-of-a-generation songs always felt pat, apparently because they had hope. We need songs for an age when everything is so overwhelming and impossible that there's nothing left to do but give up, give in, and bide your time until the flames -- the literal ones or the David Foster Wallace ones -- consume you too. (Who by fire, who by water vapor.) The cool, detached gloominess of "The Greatest" sends the opposite message to the one producer Jack Antonoff sent years ago; I don't want to get better, because there's no time left and no point. Lana was "doing nothing most of all," and that's why she's become the figurehead for this decade's music. Not Gaga. Not Beyonce. Not Lorde. Lana. Lana won the race to the bottom because she was there first; maybe a writer once took her sadness out of context, yet if someone said "I wish I was dead already" today, the response would not rise beyond a shrug of 'mood.' I don't even like this song that much as a song. It's slow and dreary, and that "culture is lit" line sounds hackneyed and pandering in its own way. But it's because of that artificiality that the line feels authentic, which was Lana's whole thing in the first place. Maybe I'm just bitter that she became so important when I wasn't looking. To paraphrase another, equally 2019 line, I hate to see it. Especially when I was so blind the whole time. [7]

Josh Buck: "I miss New York, and I Miss you. Me and my friends, we miss rock and roll." As Lana del Rey laments her Big Apple days, it feels like a lifetime since she was a Brooklyn Baby, singing Lou Reed with her boyfriend's band. She ventured out west to create an entire California fantasia and over a handful of albums, she built a cinematic version of the Golden State that was vibrant and full of endless sun and limitless romantic possibilities; even if it was all tinged with just a dab of noir-ish danger. It was a world as fully realized and teeming with mythology as a great novel. And "The Greatest" is where she watches it all burn down. "I'm facing the greatest loss of them all." California dreams are beautiful, until you have to wake up, so she sparks a cigarette and raises a glass to the ride. But if "The Greatest" is a moment of personal reflection, it's also a celebration. It's a toast to a new Greatest Generation. A generation that created and protested, that fucked and traveled and loved in spite of a planet threatening to burn them alive, and world leaders determined to end things even quicker. It's an anthem for thriving in the face of the apocalypse. It's my favorite single of 2019, and just thinking about it triggers a million competing emotions. If all somehow make it through this moment, we'll have one hell of a story, and a hell of a song to go with it. The culture is lit, but we had a ball. [10]

Michael Hong: A couple of cycles ago, that line probably would have drawn mass scorn from critics, but for now, it may very well be the lyric of the year. Part of that may be attributed to the way the culture has shifted their view on Lana Del Rey, but another part of it is that Lana sounds the most honest she's ever sounded. "The Greatest" is an ominous but sincere reflection of the current state of the world, and Lana no longer seems content with empty depictions of American touchstones. Lines like "I miss New York and I miss the music" still rely on those same symbols, but they now feel like lived experiences rather than empty nostalgic musings. Hell, Lana Del Rey even manages not only to make "me and my friends, we miss rock 'n' roll" work but sound like one of the most profound statements you've ever heard. Lana Del Rey's hushed vocals paired with the gauzy instrumental are quietly disarming, playing out like the cinematic zoom-out at the edge of the apocalypse. And if this is it, those final laments on the outro might be the greatest way to go out. [9]

Alfred Soto: She's not the greatest, nor does she think she's the greatest, so long as she thinks the "culture is lit" and she's "having a ball," whatever that means, but I suspect it means more than the guitar solo. Narcissism as plaint. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: The core Lana Del Rey problem is that she confuses narcotic with dramatic and droning with sweeping. "The Greatest" mitigates those faults a little, but only a little, and only by borrowing some faults from classic rock. The track also smothers what could have been a fine torch song in overproduction -- the culture can't be lit if you snuff it out with a million moles of echo. It shouldn't happen that I felt more genuine things about ghosts and missing things from a perfume newsletter than this. [4]

Ian Mathers: So here's the thing; I originally wrote about and scored this song before the more exhausting parts of the whole Lana Del Rey Conversation that engulfed Music Twitter last week had happened, and I was basically saying, yeah, the conversation is interesting and has some good points but I mostly receive the song outside of it and I just like that song (and generally do, with her singles). But then... it got worse. And between the artist herself showing her ass and all of the assorted takes, the thought of listening to any of LDR's music just got more and more enervating. Some would say it's unfair or incorrect to adjust my opinion of this song, or at least to admit that those events have, in fact, adjusted my opinion of the song. But I'm a guy who wrote a Master's thesis at least partly on the idea that the context around a work of art justifiably changes not only our aesthetic relationship to it but the ontological status of the work of art itself (which is not a physical thing, not even as data). The classical example is finding out, say, a painting is a forgery, but honestly this whole thing is a great example too. Doesn't make me outright dislike "The Greatest", but does legitimately move it from being a real bright spot to a song I enjoy that I need a bit of a break from. [7]

Stephen Eisermann: Hats off to Lana and Jack for really creating an atmosphere of nostalgia that you fall into the second you hit play. Lana's vocal is tender and understated, further reinforcing the sense of longing the track aims to create; but, hearing her sing the word "lit" and the Kanye West reference stand in stark contrast to that moody guitar lick and I... I just can't reconcile the two. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Lana Del Rey is deeply aware of the fickleness of the music industry. On Born to Die, that manifested in her almost-trolling approach -- aggravating, almost-rap cadences, weird production choices, even weirder lyrical ones -- that wormed its way into the pop consciousness. For her middle three albums, she refashioned herself as a thinking person's pop star, working with more respectable (and more male) figures like Dan Aurebach and A$AP Rocky as a way of positioning herself as adjacent to prestige. The music was better but also more boring. Now, with Norman Fucking Rockwell!, she has cashed all the checks that a decade of practice and following the rules of pop earn you. "The Greatest" is a thesis statement for the album's ambition. It's not just the title -- although that is a helpful indicator. It's everything: the classic rock guitars and big drum fills, the nostalgia for doing nothing of the lyrics, the way she sings them. On "The Greatest," Lana sounds done. Not exhausted, but complete, as if she could walk away from this all and not miss a second's worth of sleep. It's a big damn classic rock song that's aware of how bombastic it sounds, and yet its self-awareness does not undercut its narrative and sonic heft. It's the kind of song you can't make without making a lot of worse songs that dance around the same topics. But here, where it really counts? Lana nails it. It's a buzzer-beater of a song, rattling around the rim four times before falling in -- all the sweeter in glory for the bumps on the road before it. It's likely not the last Lana Del Rey single we'll review, but if it is, it's a fitting send-off: in response to all the fickleness of the industry, Lana rewrites her story on her own terms, and makes it sing. [9]

Jackie Powell: Norman Fucking Rockwell started as such a fascinating paradox, but didn't really continue building and evolving on what made its first third so successful. "The Greatest" is lyrically relatable and sonically beautiful. Jack Antonoff, being the wizard that he is, finds a way to wean Lana Del Rey of her noir and whining tendencies. He overdubs her potential for a beautiful vocal pairing it with brighter arrangements. It's pellucid and mellow but not a snoozefest. But its placement on this album really sold the track short. NFR loaded its most compelling tracks at the top of the project. Del Rey placed "The Greatest" after "Fuck it I love you" in a double feature of a music video, which where it should have been placed on the album. In the visual, Del Rey floats around and almost above her surroundings contemplating what's next. The haunting but gorgeously comforting guitar solo brings the listener along with Lana herself back down to earth. Lyrically and through its soft piano, the outro is what gives this song its weight and a sense of profundity. Her cultural references which include Kanye West's physical and emotional transformation and David Bowie's "Life on Mars" allow us to reflect on what we've become. Lana Del Rey does that here and on almost every record. I just wish "The Greatest" was given the proper stage to achieve the status of its moniker. [6]

Joshua Lu: The majority of "The Greatest" feels unbound by time, as Lana Del Rey reuses Extremely American words that apply to the '80s as much as today: Long Beach, New York, the Beach Boys, rock 'n' roll. Only the outro plants the song firmly in the current year -- with mentions of Mars, Kanye, global warming, and that time Hawaii thought it was about to get bombed -- and with this passage of time, these signifiers bring no joy to Lana anymore. Her sprawling sense of nihilism seeps through in her languid voice and the turgid, psychedelic guitar as she laments how her generation's time is ticking away. Tempting as it is, I'm wary to read into this song as some kind of political statement, in part because the epochs that Lana fetishizes were also rather shitty, and also because I think Lana herself wouldn't prefer this reading, as it would play into that "p" word she, erm, has expressed adversity to. Maybe that's the song's trap, that despite how alluring it is to try to ascribe some deeper meaning, it's better to just do what the song does: sit back, observe, and mourn. [8]

Alex Clifton: Lana Del Rey has a beautiful and occasionally overwhelming voice. It's haunting but for me it can be like ingesting too much cake in one sitting -- extremely rich to the point where it feels exhausting to listen to more than one song at a time. Having said that, "The Greatest" is a song that works well with Del Rey's vocals. When the first pre-chorus hits -- "those nights were on fire, we couldn't get higher" -- her breathiness feels less like an affect but sadder and more wistful, the awareness that she'll never be able to get that life back again. It's a grandiose song, strings and languid piano and a chorus of a dozen Lanas sighing "if this is it, I'm signing off," but for once the grandiosity of the production fits the message. My issue with Del Rey's persona back in the Born to Die days was that I couldn't quite make out who she was under all the artifice, flower crowns and American flags. I know that's the appeal of artists like Del Rey, whose entire careers are built off of specific personas (despite what they claim to the contrary), but I don't deal well with facades that are built that tall. Arguments about personas and performativity in music can quickly dissolve into arguments about authenticity and how much that matters to the music, and I want to stress that I don't care about authenticity in the slightest -- I just like the moments where artists aren't invincible but human. In "The Greatest" those walls crumble down and Del Rey revels in her sadness in a way that hits close to the heart. She's vulnerable and mourning over a real love rather than a fantasy, and for once I feel like persona or no, I understand the appeal of Lana Del Rey. [8]

Vikram Joseph: At 2am this morning I found myself in the smoky bedroom of a guy I hadn't met until two hours earlier, half a bottle of red wine deep and still high off the fumes of the MUNA show I'd just been to, discussing the aesthetics of Lana Del Rey's music videos (as a kind of emotional foreplay, I guess?). It struck me that this, right there, was actually a pretty good representation of Lana's aesthetic -- unlikely moments that shimmer at the fringes of reality, a doomed romanticism that bleeds into a laconic, blissful sort of nihilism. There's so much heightened emotion (close to melodrama) in her music, and yet there's a simplicity too in what she craves -- men, bars, California, sun -- that Vice described as a "revolutionary pleasure." It feels like an extremely LDR move to draw a direct parallel between lost love and the end of the actual fucking world, but it's testament to her songwriting, those aesthetics that she's worked so hard on, and the spellbinding, crystalline production on "The Greatest" that she pulls it off so completely. From the opening bars -- dignified piano chords, soft-focus acoustic guitars and cinematic strings -- it feels like an elegy; I can't help but see the crumbling, sunlit edifice of a gorgeous building when I hear this song, especially during that billowing, washed-out guitar solo, or the slow nuclear decay of the outro. "The Greatest" feels like a culmination, and a kind of closure. It's a veteran of an iconic club scene reading the memoirs of her golden years out loud, or the last time two people who once loved each other ever speak, or a beach scene at the end of civilisation. Sonically and aesthetically, it sounds cast adrift in time, and that's why it's so effective. It's the end of the world as we know it -- I don't think Lana feels fine, exactly, but maybe there's a certain comfort in finally knowing for sure that it was all for nothing. [10]

Will Adams: Lana Del Rey made a career writing elegies to American culture, which is what makes "The Greatest" as moving as it is heartbreaking. The patriotism of "American" has turned bitter. The sprawling luxury of "Shades of Cool" has fizzled. The worries expressed in "Coachella -- Woodstock In My Mind" have been realized in twisted, terrifying ways. So it makes sense that, after a few minutes of misty-eyed farewells presented with a smile ("I had a ball"), it all collapses to rubble. The gleaming classic rock evaporates into three descending chords. This, it turns out, is the greatest loss of all. Not rock 'n' roll, not a past lover, not Long Beach, not Kanye West, but everything. In that final minute, the song sinks to the ocean floor, the flaming city fading from view, the monuments and culture blurring into nothing. Del Rey is gone, too, as there's nothing left to say. There is nothing except the brutal end. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Lana Del Rey #pop #music #music review #writing

2 notes · View notes

scifimagpie · 5 years

Text

Game of ZZZs: How Long Stories Ruin Everything

I've been putting this one off because I was kind of busy writing an 18-part series deep-dive involving journalism and undercover work, but since Lindsay Ellis has released her video essay conclusion, I have finally put my thoughts in order.

youtube

So, today we're going to talk about something contentious. I have no issue with books being long, or shows being long, or movies being long - but at the same time, I do. And yes, I know some people adore epic scale stories for their own sake. Not everything needs to be a thousand-page-long ten-book series with three spinoffs and prequels. Oh, sure, market forces and advertising play a role in this, but creators still participate in it.

But sometimes a story isn't long because it needs to be, it's long because the writer thinks it HAS to be. From my personal experience as a reader and writer, and especially as an editor, I've come to some conclusions about how stories are artificially extended. And in a world of global warming and climate change, shouldn't we be fighting waste everywhere, on every level?

Now, a certain show ended its eighth season not long ago; Big Bang Theory came to a whimper of a close after ten seasons, and Veep - which I only heard about towards its grand finale, alas - has also finished up a seven-season run.

I'm not saying all of these shows participated in various errors. I'm saying pretty much every show, book, and movie series will partake in them eventually. So how do we do better than the bad ones, and how do we echo or even improve on the good ones? We can't fight what we don't know about, so let's get into it.

Spacing

Everything happens, but not right away. No, the important events are distanced from each other, to the point where there are long stretches of dead zones or deserts of nonsense in between them. I'm not talking about character interactions as nonsense here, but unfortunately, a lot of authors seem to think that they count, and that human drama isn't interesting enough to be a climax. Older fantasy works--cough, cough, Wheel of Time--can be particularly bad about this. The problem with spacing out events and using human drama between the big McGuffin/army-driven fights is that readers get frustrated by the human drama rather than finding it rewarding. Or worse, they find the army and McGuffiny-crap a distraction from the human stuff.

Padding

I know about this issue from the inside. Bad Things that Happen to Girls started off as a book called Foreverland, and then was untitled for a while before getting its current name. It went through two full rewrites before arriving at its current published form. When I wrote it at first, I thought it absolutely had to be a long novel, with lots of details about the girls' lives and a slow-burn breakdown, then an extended road trip in the middle and a bunch of scenes about their experiences in university.

I didn't realise I was padding it, but when I experimented with radically decreasing the timeline of events, I had a revelation. I didn't need years and paragraphs on paragraphs chronicling their lived experiences, full of pointless dialogue and meandering descriptions. All I had to do were give little samples and important moments, and that would get the idea across. Sometimes a flash reveals more than a long exposure shot, to put it in cinematic terms.

Cramming

EVERYTHING MUST HAPPEN AND IT MUST HAPPEN NOW AND HERE ARE TEN NEW CHARACTERS AND A NEW SUBPLOT AND HOLY CRAP WE MUST MAKE UP FOR WRAPPING UP TOO MANY THREADS AT THE END OF THE LAST SEASON OOPS.

The caps lock here was entirely necessary and appropriate, because with cramming, the story often feels like it's shouting at you. (Probably in German.)

The biggest problem with cramming, too, is that it requires glossing over things. If readers get interested by a small detail, they might end up screaming, "wait, go back!" long after the author's moved to another topic, or three other topics. Finding the balance between this and padding can be tricky, but the best solution I can offer is "external perspective." Get someone to read over your work, and when they lose attention, that's time to cut. It's a trick I often use with editing manuscripts - the minute my attention wavers, I mark it, just in case.

Crashing

this tends to happen to shows that have lived past their expiry date. Supernatural is a fine example of this. This is where "shark-jumping" tends to come into play; characters do things that go against their nature and development for the sake of jump-starting a narrative or adding some excitement.

Oh, the shark-jump. That's worth a mini-section of its own. Honestly, most shows either end or jump the shark in order to keep going. There's no such thing as a perfect writer or a perfect story; mostly because these things are subjective, but partly because keeping all the balls in the air for a story is just plain hard.

Endless escalation

Science fiction authors are prone to this, and so are epic fantasy authors. In an effort to keep reader interest, stakes rise and rise and rise, and then lose sight of the human scale of things. The problem is that stories are made of people, and if you forget about the people, you don't have a story anymore.

As with Cramming, this can lead to glossing over interesting bits as well. The full impact of a big change or shift isn't always felt if we rush to the next big, shiny thing. In real life, though, long-reaching consequences of events can have ripples for decades or even centuries. The Magna Carta was a big deal when it was signed; the effects of the Spanish Inquisitions, the Crusades, the unification of China (which happened more than once), the Viking cultural expansions, and the colonization of North America (by which I mean the land-theft and genocide of Indigenous peoples) are all still talked about to this day.

Bad things that happen to characters need room to resonate. PTSD and trauma are not only interesting, they're natural, and even when people mostly recover from them, they leave a lasting impact. Let your characters get wrecked by something. Have characters reference things that have happened. Let characters get fatigued, collapse, and have to fix themselves. It'll not only demonstrate the actual impact of your events, it'll keep you from having to throw together another big, shiny thing to make the story more exciting (looking at you, Avengers series and mainstream comics).

So, what tends to actually cause these writing techniques behind the scenes?

Burnout or boredom

One of the most difficult and important factors - one which arguably contributed to the absolute mess that was the GoT finale - is just getting tired of your own damn story. When this happens, authors and creators will end up trying to revamp something with weird new twists partly to keep themselves interested, might engineer an awkward left turn to justify a foreshadowed plot element, or might just do a half-hearted wrap-up of the previous plot elements.

Here's the thing - audiences don't always consume stories at the same rate as authors write them. Many times, readers or viewers will stumble on a work and binge it in a relatively short time, so what took years for the writer will take months, at most, for the consumer. This can make tonal clashes very jarring.

In other cases, an author will abandon a series due to writer's block or life events - a sin of which I, cough, am guilty - and then try to pick it up later. This will still impact the story, often negatively. Maybe one has just gotten well and thoroughly tired of the subject matter, or it's been done to death in the popular sphere. It doesn't really matter - either way, authors are subject to the world around them, and sometimes, the only way to deal with burnout or boredom is rotating to another project. That's fine - the only issue comes when the first project is completely abandoned, and languishes, unfinished.

Societal changes and personal development

I'm combining these two because the world around us affects us, and sometimes, we even affect the world. If you'd told me that Donald Trump and Boris Johnson were going to rise to power during my lifetime, I wouldn't've believed you. To many, it sounded like a bad dream. Well, here we are, and the long night has not yet come to an end. Using art to cope with dark times and critique them is a long-celebrated human trend, and there's no reason to stop now. Sure, we might fear our work aging poorly - but stories that try to be timeless always age anyhow, and an earnest time capsule often lasts longer, because it can tap into the problems of an era (which echo forward, as discussed in the section above).

If you'd told me that I'd be able to deal with my family issues in a more satisfactory way, I might have believed you - but realising the impact of that on my writing both as a Game Master and an author is another matter. However, the additional perspective and maturity of healing has, rather than distancing me from characters' struggles, provided additional objectivity and even empathy. Fixing ourselves and healing doesn't "take away our artistic magic" - far from it. If anything, getting over issues unlocks the ability to deal with them in fiction much more effectively.

Disillusionment and insecurity

These are nasty brain demons, all right - perhaps one has taken a look at the broad span of one's work, compared it to one's goals, and feels they are just - well, left wanting. Every creator struggles with this at some point, whether crafting a story for a D&D party or for hundreds of readers or thousands of viewers. The only way to deal with it is with external perspective and turning to objective sources of both external critique and validation.

After all, we tell ourselves things that may or may not be true all the time, and measuring them against the perceptions of the audience can drastically correct things. Your readers might just be happy to see the characters get married - never mind that it took you five years to write about them getting together. And even if they don't like something specific or complain about it or nitpick - hey, they're coming back. You compelled them. Even if the readers, say, abandon their fandom and proclaim it a trashfire - they're still paying for or giving your story attention and money. And ultimately, from a marketing perspective attention is always neutral or positive - even if that attention is controversial - because it increases profits.

How do we even begin to fix all this?

But. All hope is not lost.

By acknowledging burnout, boredom, disillusionment, insecurity, personal development, and societal change - the factors which often lead to writing shortcuts detailed in the previous section - we can compensate for the natural creative struggles by accepting and anticipating them.

Try to write books in a series in a continuous stretch when possible, making it harder to lose track of the tone or style or character journeys. Plot things out, and get yourself a hands-on editor and/or extremely trustworthy beta-readers. And forgive yourself for screwing up - then get back to writing. At least, that's what I'm doing!

***

Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and Max the cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people's manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.

Find her all over the internet: * OG Blog * Mailing list * Magpie Editing *

* Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr * Paypal.me * Ko-fi

#game of thrones #how to #advice #writing #editing #beta reading #list

1 note · View note

takaraphoenix · 6 years

Text

Mid-year Fic Round-up

Tagged by @miazeklos - thank you! This looks fun! x3

Total word count: 759.397... we’re only half-way through the year and I wrote over 3/4 of a million words. It’s official. I need a life.

Fandoms written in:

Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Shadowhunters

Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rise of the Guardians

How to Train Your Dragon

Tangled

Brave

Moana

Big Hero 6

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Avengers

Vampire Academy

Teen Wolf

Prince of Stride

Detective Conan

Maze Runner

Imposters

Star Wars

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? MORE WHAT THE FUCK HOW AM I THIS CLOSE TO A MILLION WORDS ALREADY. I AM SHOOK. I wrote 97 fics this year already and we’re only six months into the year! Ninety-seven fics!

What’s your own favorite story of the year? Uuuh... Gotta say, that has to be “How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful”. I know only one chapter has been posted so far, but good lords I am enjoying this story so much and I have written a liiittle ahead already that I also love?

Did you take any writing risks this year? I mean, I dipped my toes in a total of five new fandoms and I always do consider that risky. You never know what the fandom is like if you’re new.

Do you have any fanfic or profit goals for the new year? Uhm, continue the way it’s been going so far, I guess?

Best story of the year? My best? I don’t really see how that differs from favorite. Well, at least not in this case. Because it’ll be a very slow slow-burn and I’ll get to explore the characters and their dynamics beyond romance, far beyond, have the team-building and fixing all the bugs that have been messing with me in the MCU. I do think that it’ll turn out to be one of my best fics.

Most popular story of the year? How do you... measure that? No, wait, never mind. Whether I sort the stats by Kudos, Comment Threads, Bookmarks or Subscriptions, it’s the same story coming out on top - “Percy and the Ghost King of Summers High”. So I think it’s a safe bet to say that is my most popular story of the year.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Most underappreciated...? *frowns* I dunno. Really.

Most fun story to write: I am super intensely boring, but for the third time I gotta say “How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful”. I haven’t had this much fun with a fanfiction in... a while.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: Huh. Uhm. Guess I’m drawing another blank... Would it be super bad if I said “How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful” again...? Because characters like Sif, Valkyrie, Jane Foster, Sharon Carter and Hope van Dyne they’re... pathetically underused by the MCU and fulfill more of a Love Interest role or a Kick-Ass Female role without much beyond that and mostly are used to further the male lead, so I have always been rather meh about their canon versions, but actually getting to write them? Giving them dynamics beyond being the hardened badass or the love-interest (or... both...), giving them friendships and all is so much fun that I have actually grown really fond of those characters I was just meh about. But if you remove them from their male lead’s plotline and give them an own agenda? Sheeesh, they’re fun.

Most unintentionally telling story: Mh... Most likely “Percy and the Ghost King of Summers High”. I’m always channeling a lot of my own feelings and coping mechanisms into this when writing about Percy’s self-harm.

Biggest disappointment: All the fandoms I haven’t written for, I guess. I wish I had more to contribute to many of the fandoms. Or I watched shows that I’d like to write for, but lack either motivation or ideas.

Biggest surprise: Yeah no, tumblr. Like. That so many people willingly followed me here, being interested in me beyond the fics I write, I guess? I really never expected that when I got this account last year. *laughs sheepishly*

Tagging: Whoooever wants to do it! ;)

#About Me #Fanfiction #Tumblr Tag Game

19 notes · View notes

bowandarrowgirl · 6 years

Link

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gamora/Peter Quill, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Phil Coulson/Melinda May, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Scott Lang/Hope Van Dyne, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Thor (Marvel), Groot & Rocket Raccoon, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Phil Coulson & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz & Jemma Simmons & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Peter Parker & Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker & Peter Quill, Shuri & T'Challa (Marvel), Peter Parker & Shuri, Gamora & Shuri, Nakia (Black Panther)/T'Challa, Okoye & T'Challa (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Christine Palmer/Stephen Strange, Gamora & Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov & Shuri, Peter Quill & Natasha Romanov, Peter Quill & Shuri Characters: Drax the Destroyer, Rocket Raccoon, Gamora (Marvel), Groot (Marvel), Ronan the Accuser, Guardians of the Galaxy Team, Taneleer Tivan, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Bobbi Morse, Lincoln Campbell, Nakia (Black Panther), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Skye | Daisy Johnson, Peter Quill, Peter Parker, Gwen Stacy, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Wanda Maximoff, Vision (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Michelle Jones, Phil Coulson, Melinda May, Pepper Potts, Tony Stark, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, Ned Leeds, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons, Shuri (Marvel), T'Challa (Marvel), Okoye (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Christine Palmer Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, SHIELD, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Past Relationship(s), Long-Term Relationship(s), Unrequited Love, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Dorks in Love, Friends to Lovers, Peter Plays Football, Peter's in Choir, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Lincoln Campbell Lives, Gwen Stacy Lives, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Best Friends, Teen Years, School Dances, Talent Shows, Hidden Talents, Guardians of the Galaxy (2014) - Freeform, Gamora Loves Music, Gamora Can Sing, Gamora-centric, Peter-centric, SHIELD Academy, Tony Being Tony, Gamora & Shuri (Friendship), Gamora & Natasha Romanov (Friendship), Meme Lord Shuri (Marvel), Gamora Doesn't Understand, Peter Quill Needs a Hug, Gamora needs a hug, Platonic Kissing, Forehead Kisses, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Cute, Gamora Opens Up, Illiterate Gamora, Peter Despises Thor, Singing Competitions, Acapella Choir, Peter and Gamora Click, fast friends, Hurt/Comfort, Shuri Gets Excited Easily, Protective Natasha Romanov, Nat is the Mom Friend Summary:

High School AU: She wanted freedom. He wanted to be loved. They both wanted to escape their abusive father figures.

"Are they supposed to fit this tightly?" Gamora asks, adjusting the black, capri jeggings she is required to wear for choir competitions.

It is now October 26th, only a day away from being two months since school started. Somehow, she managed to get out of community service-probably because of the fact that she didn't do anything wrong. In that time, she also couldn't believe she would've been able to become so close to people. Of course she's close to Nat, having to be her roommate, but she also got close to Shuri, and the rest of the kids in the choir-Wanda, Tony, Daisy, and Little Peter (as the group calls him). The other Peter, however, is a completely different story.

Peter Jason Quill makes her feel like time freezes whenever he's around her. He causes her stomach to feel weird-similar to the feeling right before you vomit, but pleasing in a way. There was a time, a few weeks ago, when he started giving her nicknames: G, Gam, Gammy. He even calls her 'Songbird' at times, noticing the way it makes her heart melt below her stoic mask. The reason behind it was simple as Peter notices the way Gamora adores the Fleetwood Mac song of the same name. The way he cares about her-teaching her how to read, how to sing, being kind-she wonders what she ever did to deserve him as a 'best friend' as he calls her.

It's the day of their first competition of the year. Of course, of all the places it can be held, they have to compete inside of their own auditorium against various of other ensembles from different schools around theirs. The majority of the group is pretty nervous, with the exception of Tony and Peter, whose egotistical brains convince them that their entire performance is going to be awesome.

Right now, however, they are in the choir room, having just finished running through their act for the last time before having to perform in front of the audience and judges. Peter walks over towards the piano, panting, and grabs the opened bottle of water that sits on top of it, taking a huge swig. He places the cap back on and sets it back down in its original spot. His hazel eyes shift towards Gamora.

Like the rest of the girls in their group, she is wearing a red, loose halter top with a black sash stitched into the shirt, right below her breasts. Although, they have matching pants and shirts, the girls are allowed to add their own flare to make their uniforms unique. Gamora settles for two, large chained bangles-one in black, the other in white-and her go-to set of black bands on each finger, with the exception of her ring. The girls don't have identical shoes to wear either. The only request is that they match in black. Unlike the rest of the girls, who are wearing different styles of boots, Gamora is wearing a plain, pair of flats. Her black and red hair is half up in a topknot, the rest framing her face in ringlets.

The soft, yet darkness of her irises, meet Peter's as a small blush crawls upon her cheeks, causing her to focus her attention somewhere else. She is trying not to think about how out of all the guys in the same low-cut, maroon, long-sleeved v-neck and black, silky vest, Peter is definitely NOT the most attractive, showing off his muscular arms in a pleasing way.

Before her thoughts can get any filthier, Peter clears his throat, instructing everyone to form a circle in the center of the room.

"OOH! Is it time for our ritual?!" Shiri asks excitedly, jumping up and down, while clapping her hands as if she was a little kid again.

"Ritual?" Gamora questions, raising an eyebrow in concern as she crosses her arms. "Like in a cult?"

"Psh! No!" Peter waves a hand, brushing off her concern. "Before every competition, we have the same ritual as a good luck charm."

Shuri turns towards Gamora, still in her childish state and grabs both of her hands. "We came up with it last year. It is a lot of fun!"

"Do you know how to do the rain dance?" Peter asks, gaining Gamora's full attention as Shuri releases her. She shakes her head. "Okay, well, I don't think it'll hurt to perform the ritual twice. We could show you how to do it the first time and then you could join us the second!" Gamora shrugs and hesitantly nods her head, before stepping out of the circle.

"I already taught Tony how to do it!" Little Peter says in almost as much excitement as Shuri.

"Okay, cool! Everyone ready?" As soon as everyone nods, they begin.

Peter explains each movement as the group starts off by rubbing their hands together. A few seconds later, every other person in the circle starts snapping both of their fingers. Then, every third person in the circle starts patting their thighs. Finally, everyone who was still rubbing their hands together, is now stomping their feet hard against the tile floor. Suddenly, Peter shushes everyone as they all smirk at each other and begin to rub their hands once again in unison. That's when Peter starts singing, "Just a young gun with a quick fuse,". Meanwhile, the same pattern that started with the rain dance begins once again, with the rubbing hands, and stomps and snaps in a beat-stomp...snap...stomp-stompstomp...snap. "Not a yes sir, not a follower," Peter sings as the movements continue in the same pattern. Eventually, the girls start singing staccato 'thunders' as the people who were rubbing their hands together, start clapping in a steady rhythm. "Thunder, feel the thunder," Every other person jumps three times to the beat in unison. After the song ends, they gradually ease back into the rain dance, ending in everyone stomping, before jumping up and shouting 'LET'S GO, S.A.!'.

"Man, I feel like a cheerleader now." Tony admits, placing his hands on his hips.

"Wouldn't surprise me if you were." Nat chuckles.

"Hahaha, hilarious."

Peter gives Gamora a crooked smile, gesturing for her to come and join them. She gives him a soft smile in return and joins the group in the circle. They do the ritual for a second time and Gamora finds herself laughing with everyone as she repeatedly messes up.

As soon as their feet touch the ground after shouting for the second time, the students spread out around the choir room, retreating to their water bottles. The only exceptions being Peter and Gamora who found themselves approaching each other with wide beams, until their fronts were pressed up against each other. Gamora tilts her head up to gaze into Peter's eyes. They begin to lean in with their eyes fluttering closed. The distance between them is so limited that they could feel the other's warm breaths against their lips...WHOOSH! They jump apart when the choir doors are pulled open with much more force than necessary to reveal no other than Coulson.

"What are you guys doing?! The competition starts in five minutes! You guys better get in there, now or you're gonna be eliminated!" The kids look at each other with wide eyes, before sprinting past Coulson and heading towards the auditorium.

A loud applause fills the auditorium as a short blonde girl from one of the prep schools, finishes her emotional solo with glassy eyes. She curtsies with the rest of her choir as they exit backstage, passing a nervous Gamora, who looks as if she's literally holding herself together. The Zen-Whoberian starts pacing back and forth, noticing that every choir that exits backstage is another choir closer to their performance.

On the opposite side of the stage, Nat, Peter, and Shuri are all watching each choir perform. As the next choir enters the stage, Nat glances at Peter. "So...homecoming is next weekend..."

"Steve ask you yet?"

"Yeah. Actually, right before we left. You didn't notice?"

Peter shrugs. "I wasn't really paying attention..." He thinks back to what he was paying attention to earlier that day-Gamora. Not very surprising, but it was the truth. They had gone to the park, which had become their special place to hang out. He remembers swinging with her and talking about how much she had changed in just the two months they knew each other. They laughed about it, in fact.

"'When are you gonna ask her?"

Nat's voice breaks him from his thoughts, making him realize that he'd been staring at the said woman the entire time. "Wait, who...Gamora?"

"Who else, Dummy?!" Shuri exclaims quietly, while playfully raising her brows.

"Listen, I really appreciate you guys shipping us, but as you can probably tell, she clearly does not-"

"BULLSHIT!" Nat yells, a little louder than she meant. She apologizes quickly before turning her full attention back to Peter. "Don't pretend like nobody saw what happened before Coulson walked in!" Her voice is quieter now-merely a stage whisper. When Peter opens his mouth to speak, Nat continues to talk, "Listen, if it makes you feel better, Shuri and I will help you like we always do." She put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Now get over there and calm her down before she has a heart attack!" Shuri instructs, shoving him in the direction of Gamora.

The boy glares at her before making his way to Gamora, who continues to pace. "G?"

The Zen-Whoberian whips around to face him, forcing a fake smile. "Hey, you ready?"

"Well, yeah." He replies awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. The mask Gamora is hiding under slowly disappears as Peter notices the worried look underneath it. "Hey, it's gonna be okay! I promise."

"But, I always mess up that one part-" Gamora's gaze goes everywhere, but his.

"And you stayed up all night, practicing."

"I told you, I'm not a performer. If I still can't get it right-"

"As much as I want to say that there are perfect choirs out there and we're one of em', there aren't and we aren't. Everyone screws up. It's a part of being human, I guess, but you can't let that get to you." Gamora finally allows herself to lock her eyes with his as he firmly grasps her arms. "You are way more talented than you give yourself credit for." He loosens his grip and continues to gaze into her beautiful, brown eyes. To his surprise, she breaks out of his grasp and wraps her arms around his neck. His arms slowly snake their way around her waist.

"Thank you." She whispers into his ear.

'Next, can we have the Shield Academy Acapella Choir please enter the stage?' One of the judges call from in front of the curtain as the last choir exits.

Gamora's grasp stiffens a little before she lets go. Peter gives her a soft smile before winking. She playfully rolls her eyes at him as he rounds up the rest of their group.

"Okay, so I'm gonna give a quick little good luck speech; we're gonna be awesome. We're gonna kill it. We're gonna get through to the next round. Let's go out there and show them what we can do!"

They all smile at one another before running onstage, grabbing cordless microphones and positioning themselves into a vertical line. The order, starting from the front: Peter, Gamora, Little Peter, Shuri, Nat, Tony, Wanda and finally, Daisy. Peter pulls out a circular pitch pipe and blows into it, producing an F chord. The group starts singing the instrumental to 'You Make My Dreams' as each kid leans to the opposite direction as the person in front of them, with the exception of Daisy. By the time the first verse starts, Daisy is revealed as the rest of the kids stand up and take a step to the side. She starts singing the first verse as she approaches the front of the stage. The rest of the kids form a horizontal line, following her from behind. They all turn their backs to the audience before the second verse starts. Daisy turns her head enough to face the audience as she begins to sing again. The group behind her faces the left side of the stage as the song enters the chorus. They take two steps forward before pointing to the audience. "Well, well, well, you-you make my dreams come true!" Daisy sings with a smile a mile wide.

Their time on stage goes by in a flash as everyone holds their last notes before the auditorium goes eerily quiet. Suddenly, the audience, including the judges, applause, louder and crazier than for any of the other choirs before them. Each member is beaming and the group stands in a horizontal line, grabbing each other's hands and bowing as a group.

As soon as the judges dismiss them, the group runs backstage continuing to celebrate their success.

"Peter!"

Gamora uncharacteristically runs to Peter and jumps into his arms. He twirls her around, unaware that his smile could get any bigger. "You didn't mess up! Gam, you were awesome!" He exclaims after setting her back down.

The green girl can't say a word and so, she doesn't. She just stands there and continues to smile at him like an idiot. Only Peter Jason Quill can make her do such a thing and although she knows why, she acts as though she doesn't.

Peter sees Daisy and wraps her in a side hug. "You, Miss 'I-aint-gonna-get-the-solo', nailed it!"

"Thanks, Peter!" Daisy says with a soft smile. She notices FitzSimmons waiting for her near the entrance of the dressing room and speed-walks towards them in excitement.

"When do we find out if we made it?" Gamora asks in curiosity.

"Coulson will let us know tomorrow."

"Are we allowed to leave?"

"Yeah, I guess. Why?"

"To be completely honest, I didn't think I was gonna like performing. After we finished though, when nothing happened, I felt sick to my stomach. Then, the audience...I think that's the first time I have ever been applauded for anything." Gamora admits, rocking the swing back and forth with her hands clasped in her lap.

"So, you're admitting that you are a performer?"

"I never said that. I just said that maybe, performing isn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be." They both chuckle wholeheartedly.

The sun has almost finished setting for the night. Peter and Gamora watch it in silence, the only noise coming from Peter's music as usual. This was a newer thing for them. Sure, the park was deemed their 'place', but watching the sun set every few days and reading together afterwards has been a new routine they've both become accustomed to.

"It's beautiful."

"You say that every time." Peter chuckles.

"It's true, though." Gamora faces Peter with soft eyes. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Loneliness has always been a friend of mine

I'm leaving my life in your hands

People say I'm crazy and that I am blind

Risking it all in a glance

"Gamora?"

The girl takes her attention off the newly dark horizon, realizing that Peter had stopped his swing and was now standing next to her with an extended hand. He hasn't requested to do this in a while-dance. In fact, the last time he had requested, was the only time he had requested, and resulted in him getting slapped. However, she's known him for two months. She knows him enough to know that he won't force her to do anything that makes her uncomfortable. Sure, sometimes he'll try to talk her into things, but he would never force her to do them. Which is why she gave in.

Peter pulls her off the swing, glancing as it squeaks lightly and slowly halts to a stop. He places her hand on his shoulder, before placing his own, lightly on her waist. The fingers from his freehand intertwine with hers. The begin to sway to the rhythm of the song, gazing into each other's eyes.

I don't care who you are, where you're from

What you did, as long as you love me

Who you are, where you're from

What you did, as long as you love me

"Hey." Peter whispers with his signature crooked smile. "So, you know that dance Nat has been going on about?"

Gamora raises her eyebrows. "You mean the one she's been trying to get us to go to, together?"

"Uh-"

"Peter, I'm not stupid. I know Nat has been trying to set us up since we met." She glares, but somewhat softly, at him.

"Yeah...I'm sorry about that."

Gamora's glare fades away, a look of curiosity in its place. "What about it?"

"Well, I was thinking-"

"That we should go along with Nat's little plan?"

"No! I mean...not like that. I was just thinking it'd be fun?" When Gamora doesn't respond right away, Peter continues to ramble on, "Um, if you don't want to-"

The Zen-Whoberian tightens her grip on him and pulls him closer to her. "I'd love to, Peter."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You are my-what do you call it-best friend, after all." She gives him a playful smile.

The boy returns the gesture as they continue to dance. He tries something new and possibly dangerous, pressing a soft kiss to her hairline. It isn't long until she responds, laying her head against his chest.

I've tried to hide it so that no one knows

But I guess it shows when you look into my eyes

What you did and where you're coming from

Well, I don't care as long as you love me

#starmora #stamora #peter quill #starlord #gamora #gamora x star lord #gamora x peter quill #peter quill x gamora #starlord x gamora #quillora

7 notes · View notes