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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 4 years ago

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The Voyage So Far: Whole Cake Island

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano

sanji is such a self-sacrificial idiot. and i know that’s not exactly a ground-breaking statement, but it does define the entire first half of whole cake island, so it may as well be reiterated here: sanji does not value his own life as much as he should, and fails to grasp that other people care about him outside of what he can offer them, which is why he’s so surprised when luffy later comes charging headlong into big mom’s territory.

zou is a really good little arc, and it also mirrors the themes of whole cake island in miniature. the minks collectively make a massive sacrifice and risk absolutely everything to protect raizou, and wci is essentially all about loyalty and sacrifice, whether its sanji giving himself up to protect the strawhats and zeff or luffy and the strawhats facing impossible odds to rescue him to pedro giving up his life to get them all out of there safe.

huge fan of this panel partly just because it’s cute and partly because it’s a great visualization of just how dysfunctional the heights are in one piece.

zou is one of my favorite settings in one piece just for the sheer creativity of it. zunesha is so massive and so mysterious and so strange. and she really looks unspeakably old just from how she’s drawn, looming over everyone and everything, eyes hollow and empty, an entire forest and an entire people growing on her back that have been there for thousands of years. it’s just so neat and so wildly inventive.

this applies to zou as a whole, but i think it’s really cool how all the little threads that will become important during wano are set up so effectively even before whole cake island starts. we get this shot here of kidd beat to shit and then forget it because so much happens between here and when he shows up again in wano, but then oda punks us into caring about him and killer so much and this retroactively becomes very important.

ever since his introduction sanji’s always been a character basically defined by his adherence to his principles: always feeding the hungry, never wasting food, never hurting women, never using his hands in combat. he’s probably the most firmly principled person on the crew, and that’s more obvious in whole cake island than in any other arc except maybe baratie.

sanji is very stubbornly good, which puts him in acute contrast to his siblings and their general cruel apathy. it’s something i really like about him.

i’m a huge fan of big mom’s introduction, which is also our introduction to tottoland in general. it’s cutesy and colorful and musical while simultaneously being deeply creepy, with lyrics about killing people for ingredients and making jam out of blood, which is a great summary of the core of big mom’s character. she’s an old lady all in pink who lives in a cartoon fairy-tale land- but she’s also a deranged cannibal, and all those singing trees and flowers are animated by the life she steals from her citizens as tax.

whole cake island draws on a lot of fairy tale motifs (especially with brulee), and the contrast that saccharine appearance creates with how fucked up the actual content is is super effective and memorable, i think.

honestly i find most of the content of sanji with the vinsmokes just plain upsetting, which i’m sure is intentional, so i’m not going to go into it a lot here, but i am including this panel of him kicking niji in the face.

sad as this scene turns out, luffy’s absolute thrill at finding sanji and the corresponding bafflement of the vinsmokes as to how the fuck he even got there always kinda makes me grin.

i always love seeing people’s underestimations about luffy get thrown right the hell out the window- because let’s be honest, he’s easy to underestimate, he’s like a five and a half foot tall rubber teenager and not very physically intimidating and all, and then he goes and pulls off the impossible without blinking.

the thing that makes luffy unique as a captain has always been his willingness to rely on his crew, and his willingness to openly admit that reliance, like he did all the way back in arlong park. most of the other contenders for the pirate king’s crown we’ve seen- big mom, kaidou, crocodile once upon a time- have been stubbornly individualistic people who explicitly shown not to care for their crew and allies, generally seeing them as disposable.

luffy is the opposite of all of them, because his crew are everything to him, to the point of being willing to sacrifice his dream for them. and the loyalty he wins from them in return is unmatched, as opposed to big mom and kaidou, who both get cheerfully betrayed not just by their own crewmates but by their own children.

brook is really cool in whole cake island, and honestly it comes at just the right time for him as a character. ever since his introductory arc in thriller bark until this point he hasn’t gotten a ton of focus, so it’s great that he gets to be the mvp here and demonstrate exactly why he’s a strawhat pirate and how much he’s grown over the timeskip.

oda is generally really good at introducing and handling characters contained to a single arc/saga, but i do think he absolutely knocked it out of the park with pedro. he has an interesting backstory, compelling motivations, and basically an entire sub-arc ending in his death that never distracts from the main plot, but only ever adds to it.

pedro really feels like a fully realized character who’s had a whole life offscreen, who we just happened to catch at the very end of his story. i think that’s super impressive.

i really love this moment, because for me, this is the moment where whole cake island becomes a tremendous arc, and where the tides begin to turn and the dominoes begin to fall, one after the other. this is sanji hitting absolute rock bottom. the one ray of light he pinned all his hopes on was a lie, and he can’t even light a fucking cigarette.

but one piece is, very often, a story about picking yourself up even when you feel like you can’t.

i think there’s something lovely about how much one piece emphasizes the value of honestly asking for help. luffy waits for nami to ask for help, and for robin to say she wants to live, and for sanji to admit he just wants to go home, and then says, “okay, i’ll make that happen.”

it just makes me so happy how happy the stawhats are to know sanji’s back with them. it reminds me a lot of how they all brush off robin’s thanks after enies lobby. sure, they’re going to have to crash the wedding and confront big mom directly and might all die, but who cares? they’ve got sanji back. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, i love how much they love each other.

i think the gangster outfits are super fun, and i love that oda is committed enough to his aesthetics to come up with an excuse to put them all in formalwear. it pays off, they all look extremely snappy.

i know i just said it in the dressrosa posts but i’m reiterating it here because this is my favorite example of it by far: i love when oda does this split-screen thing with his panels. the contrast between the two halves of pudding is so severe and yet they’re so clearly the same person i honestly just find this pair of panels fascinating to look at.

this panel also kind of gets at my favorite thing about pudding as a character, really. i know she’s a little controversial in fandom, but i’ve always found her entertaining (at least post-reveal), especially in the contrast between her unhinged evil side and her genuinely sweet romantic side and her post-wedding tendency to randomly ping-pong between the two.

i just always like reminding people that sanji is fast enough and his observation haki good enough to dodge a surprise attack, while thoroughly distracted, from katakuri.

sanji in this arc tends to get shit from a certain side of fandom for being ‘useless’ since he doesn’t have a big climactic fight despite being the focus of the arc, which i think is thoroughly missing the point. sanji is still plenty capable in combat, as demonstrated both here and later, with chiffon and oven. it just happens that his strength isn’t what saves the day ultimately, because combat ability isn’t everything, which is the entire point of the vinsmoke backstory/subplot. sanji saves the day just by being kind.

i’ll admit big mom’s flashback isn’t one of my favorites, taken in isolation- there are some parts of it that kind of unresolved (at least as of now- i still suspect they’ll be followed up eventually), and in general, although there is a tragedy to it, it doesn’t quite hit the way many of the other more effective flashbacks do. that said, i do think it does a really good job of succinctly explaining why big mom is the way she is in the present: she’s a child who was never told no, who never grew or matured past the disappearance of her adopted mother. that’s it, and that’s enough.

i’ve always been a little bit in love with how seriously and consistently one piece handles its themes of found family, and sanji outright disowning judge in whole cake island is maybe the most outright they ever get: family is found, not made. you owe nothing to your blood and are never beholden to your abusers.

and i just like that a whole lot.

i do think the tamatebako is one of the best uses of chekov’s gun i’ve ever seen. we’re first shown it at the end of fishman island, it’s revealed it got sent off to big mom rigged with explosives which is a minor “oh fuck” moment, and then it gets forgotten about, because the entirety of punk hazard and dressrosa happens in between! which is a lot!

i remember when i reached the moment in whole cake island where we’re reminded that that bomb still exists and is still waiting to explode, i just started laughing hysterically out loud, because i’d completely forgotten, and now that i remembered i was just delighted to know it was going to definitely go off at some point, almost certainly in a very satisfying way.

pedro is, if i remember right, the first time the imagery of the coming dawn that will become quite important in wano really has attention drawn to it in-text- the recurring motif is there before this, of course, dating all the way back to the names of the first chapter (romance dawn) and first island (dawn island), but this is the first time it’s actively addressed in-story.

in doing so, oda essentially presents a fresh mystery for us, but one that has been set up so consistently ever since chapter one that it feels like it fits perfectly into the world and story.

luffy’s been punching way above his weight class ever since crocodile all the way back in alabasta, fighting enemies who clearly outmatch him but always managing to win anyways, but his fight with katakuri is maybe the clearest the sheer differential in strength ever gets, because katakuri’s powers are similar enough to luffy’s that he can pull off pretty much all of luffy’s techniques, but better. so luffy has to fall back on the two things that have always been his greatest strengths, again all the way back to crocodile in alabasta: innovation and sheer fucking stubbornness.

one thing i love about one piece is how no character is immune to being clowned on. absolutely nobody. everybody looks like an idiot sometimes, and it makes everything so much more fun than if the series took itself more seriously. katakuri basically actively tries to avert this by building up a fearsome, flawless, and utterly no-nonsense persona, but it winds up failing hard because it actually only makes the contrast and surprise of his actual personality and vices that much funnier.

i’ve always loved this one panel of carrot going sulong, because she just looks so monstrous, like a true werewolf. the same goes for the shift in big mom’s design when she starts going truly mad with starvation and gets even more threatening-looking (below). i just think oda should let women be monstrously scary more often.

i do really love that the entire climax of whole cake island hinges on the degree of trust and faith the strawhats, and sanji and luffy specifically, have in each other. they’re all facing massive challenges that would seem insurmountable to an outsider- luffy facing down a yonkou’s commander with a bounty of over a billion and sanji remaking a massive cake that took months to plan and make in just a few hours, the others evading big mom’s full forces and big mom herself for a full night- but none of them have even a shred of doubt that the others can manage it.

i wrote a meta post awhile back about one piece’s concept of ‘honor in a pirates’ fight, and what it came down to is this: honor can never be expected between pirates, but the best of them will show it anyways, and it can be a very telling judge of character. nobody would expect katakuri to do this, and luffy even calls him an idiot for it, but he has enough respect for luffy as a strong opponent to do it anyways, and that’s how we know for absolute certain that even though he’s an antagonist, he’s also a good, honorable person.

i really like the gesture of luffy leaving his hat over katakuri’s mouth, especially because until this point, we’re never even given any indication that he’s really noticed it, let alone that katakuri is insecure about it. he never reacts to or comments on it (which is in itself kind of unusual from someone who tends to nickname opponents by their appearances as often as luffy does) one way or another.

and then he does this, confirming all at once that he did fully notice and understand, he just doesn’t care. which i think sums up one of the more under-appreciated aspects of luffy’s character- he’s generally way more observant than people give him credit for, especially when it comes to people, it’s just that he has a very different sense of what’s important and what’s not than your average person.

i love the sheer contrast between big mom’s delighted, rapturous singing as she devours the wedding cake against the violence taking place on screen as her army rains fire and hell down on the thousand sunny. it parallels her initial introduction at the start of the arc perfectly, and is just an excellent way to close out the arc with a bang.

i said it earlier but it bears repeating here, for a different reason: luffy is not very physically intimidating. he’s shorter than most of the other main characters, he’s a lanky teenager, he dresses casually and his most identifiable accessory is a farm hat.

but then there are times when he looks like a captain, like a future pirate king, and it just looks so natural on him. i can never get over it.

i really like that, after spending a whole arc demonstrating just how different (and how much better) sanji is than the vinsmokes, it ends like this- showing us just how similar he’s grown up to the man he’s chosen as his real family, and just how proud zeff would be of him.

#the voyage so far #one piece #opmeta #arc: whole cake island #arc: zou #long post #not japanese

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summerofspock · 5 years ago

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My patreon alternate POV request for August was an additional chapter of Under Construction from Aziraphale’s POV. I chose to write the night they came back from the beach and found Spider.

After a long day on the road, Aziraphale is looking forward to relaxing by the fire. Maybe having a beer and talking about nothing in particular with Crowley. He finds he likes doing that. Talking to Crowley. He knows how to have a meandering conversation. He knows that Aziraphale doesn't mean anything by his playful teasing, that sometimes it's fun to ask questions without any sort of answer.

Crowley offers to get wood for the fire which is a bit cute really since Aziraphale doubts he could carry more than two logs at a time. But it is the thought that counts.

His nice plans are interrupted when Crowley rockets back into the house stammering about a kitten stuck in the woodpile. It's not the first time Aziraphale has found a stray cat on his property but the woodpile will be a first.

He can hear it crying as soon. as they approach the stack of wood and he does his best not to worry. He can retrieve a kitten. With care, he begins to remove the logs from the stack.

"You poor thing," he says in an effort to calm the crying kitten. It sounds so pathetic. "You'll be alright."

Crowley vibrates behind him, anxiety practically radiating off of him. He does that often. A stack of batteries has less energy than a Crowley in the throes of anxiety.

Finally, Aziraphale removed the perfect log, revealing the cowering black kitten. It blinks bright yellow eyes up at him as he reaches down carefully, ignoring the scurrying spiders, and lifts it into the cradle of his arms.

"There you go. You're safe now," he says softly. He swipes cobwebs from the kitten’s black fur and feels a surge of gratitude for Crowley for finding the poor dear.

Crowley dips closer, skinny torso weaving around Aziraphale like he was trying to get a better look. "What do we do with him?"

Aziraphale strokes two fingers down the cat's forehead and replies calmly, "I suppose feed him and house him for a night and figure it out tomorrow?"

The cat chirps almost in response. Aziraphale will need to go into town and pick up supplies. Shadwell should have a few things at the general store that will do fine for one night. Aziraphale hands Crowley the cat.

Looking lost, Crowley takes it gingerly. His eyebrows furrow as he pulls the creature close to his chest and tries to pet it, albeit a bit clumsily, shifting it from hand to hand as he tries to adjust. His palms are wide enough that they can fit the kitten almost entirely. It’s strange that Aziraphale notices. He sees the tendons flex in Crowley’s fingers as he cups his hand. Aziraphale’s vision narrows to the contrast of Crowley’s pale skin against the dark fur of the cat. It begins to purr, a low satisfied hum.

Aziraphale tears his eyes from Crowley’s hands—good hands, gorgeous hands—and looks at his face. Crowley is staring at the cat in his arms, mouth slightly ajar. He glances up at Aziraphale and his expression does something amazing. His sharp features transform into a disbelieving joyful grin that reveals that one crooked incisor Aziraphale had noticed early on. Unabashed, unashamed, this smile shouldn't have been any different than sitting under the stars and talking about dolphin conspiracies, falling asleep in the truck bed after a night on the town, but it is. It breaks apart the everpresent harsh lines around Crowley’s mouth. Gone is the frown that chases every laugh. Crowley looks happy. Crowley has dimples.

Aziraphale’s heart dips into his stomach.

"Oh my God, it’s purring,'' Crowley says in disbelief, beautiful heartstopping expression shifting miraculously into something that shatters the delicate shell of Aziraphale’s chest. "Do you hear that?"

Crowley glances at him again and frowns. Aziraphale realizes he is staring with his mouth open and closes it quickly. He is supposed to say something. Crowley had asked a question. What had the question been? Aziraphale needs time to think. His heart is racing and he needs to think.

"Right. Yes. I—I can go to the general store and get litter. I'm sure Shadwell has some. I should just...I'll do that. Right now."

Somehow Aziraphale ends up in his truck, driving down the back roads to Pine Grove, his mind lighting up with every moment he has shared with Crowley over the last 6 weeks. Has he been a fool?

He remembers, with clarity, meeting Crowley that first night. Thinking him flash and a bit rude. Clocking Crowley’s attraction to him on sight and thinking nothing of it. People like Crowley are a dime a dozen. Except they aren't. Crowley is kind under all his bluster. He's funny and good at giving as good as he gets despite his clear anxiety. It’s turned him into a good friend. Someone Aziraphale is glad to know. Someone he thinks he will want to know for a very long time.

And yes, he might have been ignoring some signs of Crowley's feelings otherwise. The way Crowley blushes around him. Or secretly buys him books of poetry and hides them in his bags like Aziraphale won’t notice. And while all signs point towards such an attraction being romantic in nature, Aziraphale doesn’t want to assume. He is no stranger to attraction without romance. In fact, he thinks the last time he had a crush on someone was in uni. He’s dated since then, of course, but it has been years since that specific tug in his stomach. That skip in the beat of his heart.

Not that feeling that had entirely consumed him as he had watched a smile bloom over Crowley's face in front of the woodpile.

Aziraphale pulls into the parking lot in front of Shadwell’s and takes a deep breath. Is he really going to try to figure this out tonight? Should he do anything at all? Any potential relationship between himself and Crowley would be difficult.

But Aziraphale never feels like this. This earth shattering, jarring sensation like everything in his life has rearranged just because Crowley smiled.

The bell above the door tinkles and the smell of sawdust and old building greets Aziraphale like an old friend.

"Bit late for an errand run," Shadwell grunts from the register in his out of place drawl. One of the oddest things about this part of America is the strange subset of mountaineers who speak with a different accent. And own far too many guns.

"Yes," Aziraphale says, still dazed. "We picked up a stray kitten out by the cabin and needed to take care of him for the night."

"Your fancy feller is still staying with you then?" Shadwell asks, and Aziraphale couldn't care less for small talk. It seems Shadwell doesn't either because he takes an Aziraphale tumbled yes and turns back to restore the Marlboros.

Crowley is waiting at home so Aziraphale tries to be quick. Except Crowley is waiting at home and Aziraphale isn't ready to face him. He hasn't made a decision.

He looks at the cans of cat food that look like they've been there for at least a few months and inspects the expiration dates without really seeing them because his vision is still swimming with images of Crowley.

Crowley awkwardly looking away when they sat down for lunch at the riverfront. Crowley's gaze lingering on his chest when he got out of the shower. Crowley's shit eating smile when he finally beat Aziraphale at pac-man.

Aziraphale clutches at the meow mix in his hand and breathes through the pain in his chest. He can’t just give this up. Relationships fail for all sorts of reasons but it would certainly be doomed if he never even tries.

Aziraphale places several cans of cat food into his basket. Now to figure out how to tell Crowley. Another memory drifts into his mind, scented with salt and seagrass.

If I were interested in you, I wouldn’t use underhanded seduction tactics like forcing you to share a bed with me.

Aziraphale grips the shelf in front of him. "Oh, good lord," he hisses to himself.

Had he really said that?

And then Crowley had turned red and ran off to the bathroom. Well, Aziraphale probably has some apologizing to do. Some ground to make up.

Maybe he will plan something romantic. Crowley hardly seems the type to go in for being wooed. Roses and truffles certainly aren't the way to his heart. But everyone deserves to be wooed sometimes.

Aziraphale pays for his purchases and got back into the truck. His heart hammers for different reasons now. He is going to tell Crowley. Not tonight. But soon. Somewhere romantic. Somewhere that says I have feelings for you and I'm willing to put in the work.

Pulling up the gravel driveway, his stomach jumps in time with the bumps in the road. He certainly found Crowley attractive before. Or at least thought him the sort that people would find attractive. Thin, tall. Defined features. Well-styled, striking red hair. But he hasn't really thought about it. Hasn't really looked.

His hands shake as he turns off the ignition and he tips his head back against the headrest. He is about to walk into his house and Crowley will be inside. He will be in one of his tight black shirts. The sort that dip at his collar bones. He will be barefoot and Aziraphale will be able to see the delicate bones of his ankles, the rigid tendons of his feet.

And Aziraphale will want to kiss him. He knows he will. And it wouldn't be just any kiss. It would be a back you up against the wall and show you exactly how I feel about you kiss. It would be everything.

But it is most certainly too fast.

This is brand new. Aziraphale doesn't want to rush. He will make a plan and he will talk to Crowley, making it clear that their friendship is paramount and that his ability to sleep on Aziraphale’s couch is not predicated on Aziraphale’s feelings and they could...go from there.

Satisfied with his plan, Aziraphale goes inside and every little nice bit of what he told himself went to pot. Crowley is sitting on the floor playing with the little black kitten with a shoelace. Upon Aziraphale’s entrance, Crowley looks up and grins.

Dimples.

Aziraphale tears his gaze away lest he drop the box of litter and tackle Crowley against the floor. He turns away and kicks off his boots with more force than necessary

“Did Shadwell have what you needed?”

Is his voice going to do things to Aziraphale’s insides now too? Goodness, this is about to become unbearable.

“Yes,” Aziraphale manages, glancing over at Crowley to see the kitten climbing up onto his shoulder. The move has tugged down his shirt and revealed the ginger patch of his chest hair which Aziraphale has an insane urge to lick.

"I was thinking about names," Crowley says, crawling up into a standing position, careful not to disturb the kitten by his neck.. His shirt pulls taut over his thin chest with his movement, rising up at his waist and exposing the line of one of his hip bones. Good lord, how had Aziraphale not noticed the man standing right in front of him?

"Spider,'' Crowley says, draping himself over the back of the bar stool. Crowley does that. A lot of draping. Lounging. Dramatic really.

Aziraphale likes him so much.

Crowley must have interpreted the look on his face for one of confusion because he adds, "You know, like you said. There are spiders in the woodpile."

It is a miracle the Aziraphale doesn't kiss him then and there.

#my fic #lumberjack fic #azcrow fic

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katsuflossy · 5 years ago

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Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Dabi x reader

WC: 2.3k

TW: Detailed parental abuse, detailed description of a mental episode, obscenities, mention of arranged marriage

A/n: ngl all of this is severely overdue but the recent chapter made my creative juices flow so here we are! Please enjoy💖

Taglist: @melanimed @mixfi @mythiccheroacademia @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @ecao @strawberry-ice @plutropica @photosbyameil @lunabby010 @iiminibattlehero @sleepysheepkiara

The air was crisp, dark, and cold, what one had expected for the autumn night. Only a few patrons roamed the streets in the twilight. Those that wander under the streetlight had their eyes crossed, mind buzzed, and hand full of one final drink due to being kicked out of the bars. The ladies of the kingdom stayed within the comfort of their homes. They laid around the compassion of their loves or their families, only knowing of the horrors of the outside through gossip. The most recent urban legend paced through the streets with a scowl fixed on his face. Azure eyes glowed danger through the darkness, never revealing the coat-clad scarred body until passing under the street lights. The drunks waddled out of Dabi’s way, feeling the rolls of anger off of him from a twenty-meter radius. For once, the fire quirk wielder ignored the low bastards, never smirking as they cowered in fear nor sparking their shoes afire, laughing as they tried to put them out. No, his mind was occupied, fist clenching and unclenching in the pocket of his coat. Thoughts of past and future overwrote each other in his brain, creating a void of black in his mind. His own psyche started to turn on him again, knowing what’s about to happen would risk many lives. However, Dabi cared only about two lives-- his own and yours.

Like God gave him a sign, he passed the alleyway of a sweet memory. Running away from authority was his regular schedule since the age of 11 but he was close to getting caught one day. Caught but cunning, Dabi held you, hostage, by the neck. The little blue flame from his finger close to searing the flesh of your cheek as he backed into the dark alleyway, away from the entire police force out front. He dragged you through numerous yards before you begged him to stop, hands on your knees as you gulped for air. Glowing eyes stared at the ruby necklace that swang from your neck, almost daring him to try to take it. The second his fingertips could graze the jewel you slapped him away, grip tight on the chain and a fire in your eyes.

“You could take anything from me—shit even the pads of my shoes if you want—but I don’t want you to take this. Here, I’m sure the ring will cost more.” You glided the ring off your hand before offering it to Dabi.

Confused couldn’t even describe Dabi’s thoughts at that moment. Are you really offering a lowlife scum precious jewels? With a smile on your face?

“Are you demented?” The tilt of your lips turned down into a scowl. A haughty hmph passed your nostrils as you looked away from the criminal.

“You were stealing from Greggley’s pawn shop. The same bastard that swindles townsfolk out of their money and rats out people to the police for a living. I’d pay to see that fear on his face again when you ran off with me and his pile of stolen goods. So here’s my payment.” Dabi cautiously took the sapphire ring from your palm. The situation was ironic, he seemed more fearful than you. Cyan eyes watched as the dust on your outfit disappeared by the pats and sweeps of your hands before jumping up. You stayed rocking from the heels of your feet to the soles, eyes waiting expectantly on the chilled man to say something. Instead, his eyes bored straight into yours, deadpanned as he occasionally averted his gaze from the entrance of the deep alley, then back to you. The shouts of police guards had left from long ago; the sounds of their frantic pace went far off into the distance. Yet, you remained in this cramped space with him.

It unnerved him to no end.

“Well, your highness, your mutts went the other way to look for you. You can scurry away now,” He questioned his words. Why is he letting you go so easily? You were a perfect hostage. Just by your yelp, he could have your father in his palms, an important piece to the league’s ultimate plan. The smile on your face didn’t ease his confusion at all. His eyes burned with irritation, upset by your cheerful demeanor.

“Oi, are you fucking braindead? I said scram,” Your face dropped, forming a pout before pulling into a smile again. Dabi felt his eye twitch as you began to chuckle. His hand igniting blue flames as he stepped towards you. You put your hands up into the chilly air.

“Woah now, I’m just saying I could be of more use, Mr. Criminal.” The heat dissipated from his hand. His eyes looked as cold as marbles but within his head, he roamed over the possibilities, how and why should he trust you. Dabi was never a gambler, always a mouse wary of traps but today, he felt lucky. The once fiery hand laid out before you, staples glinting in the dim lighting.

“Dabi,” his eyes roamed over your face, noticing the crinkles at the corner of your eyes never softening, the gleam in your eyes shining more than before. You were actually happy.

“You already know my last name but that’s unimportant right now. The name’s (Y/n).”

The memory cleared away like smoke, reminding Dabi of his mission now. His hand clenched around nothing, his fist tight to relieve the searing anger in his chest. He imagined burning Shigaraki over and over, enveloping in the heat of his wrath as punishment for putting him on this mission.

Red beady eyes looked at Dabi in nonchalance, ignoring the smoke rising from his scarred hand.

“We built our whole organization on this end goal. We are one step closer to annihilating these ‘heroes’ and you’re rejecting this offer? Over some little noble mole?” the insult adding more fuel to Dabi’s rage and fire. His flames barely reached Tomura before being engulfed into another dimension thanks to Kurogiri’s interference. Unrelenting glares fixed at each other. Even then Shigaraki continued.

“I’m not saying it again. Either you do your job and save your blue-blood or they die by our hands.”

His eye pulsed; an ache coiled around his nape to his temple. His own anger throbbed in his head and blindsided his mind. He could add Shigaraki to his body count but your life, to him, was paramount. He withdrew his fire, recollecting himself before shoving his hands into his pockets. He surveyed the room, eyes scanning all the league in disdain; the others avoided his intense gaze. The gravel crunched under his heavy boots as he stomped out of the hideout.

Shigaraki’s threats echoed through Dabi’s head, anger already swelling at the thought of his red eyes as Dabi reached the edge of your house. The whirls of wind carried his coat in their stream, pulling the fabric all about. The walls of dark stone contrasted the warm yellow lights of your not-so-humble but welcoming abode. Dabi only knew the layout of your room but whenever he’s in there, there were hardly any lights from behind your bedroom door, just the occasional shuffling of the maids.

He halted his thoughts, pressing his foot against a jutted brick before hopping on to another. His movements were smooth and familiar as if he had perfected this route. He sat on the window’s stony ledge, fingers rapting against its pane, staring into the night as he waited on you to open the window panel.

Meanwhile, you were balled up in a corner, fingernails creating welts on your skin. Still, the stinging pain didn’t distract you from the taste of iron in your mouth, the phantom feeling of blunt rings on your cheek. Your silent cries shook you to your core, sharp inhales forced your weeping to stop, only for them to return again. All crying ceased once you heard knocking on your window, the same three raps then two softer taps only known to two. A familiar rhythm, one that closely relates to the song you made the criminal danced to during one night at a pub. The precious memory was unable to soothe the paranoia of your mind right now. A hitch in your breath paused all noises in your little quarter. If you stopped breathing, maybe he’d think no one was home. You ultimately stopped breathing only for harsher rapping to strike against your window.

On shaky legs, you stood up, swiping off any trails of tears and snot from your face. The cold air greeting you swung open the window for Dabi, who immediately hopped into the warm comb. He barely skimmed over your appearance before asking.

“What the fuck happened to you?” His hand came up to your swollen cheek; an obvious insignia marked the skin. You didn’t flinch away, instead, you wet your lips, pressing more into his palm. His hands were chilly from the cold outside but the contact warmed your entire body.

“I can’t do it anymore, Dabi.” A broken whisper escaped your lungs. Tears bled through your closed eyes, wetting Dabi’s thumb as he swiped a lone one away. He stood still, billions of thoughts jumbling in his mind as you bawled into his chest. Should he do this? On this night? Your well-being and the league’s plan fought for his attention. Every thought of his mission drowned by the sight of the insignia on your face.

“(Y/n), what the fuck did he do to you?” His shirt crumpled within your hands as you contemplated telling him the truth.

Nobody expected your father, an honorary Knight-Captain, to abuse his only child. It took one loose-lipped servant to say that you were seeing a commoner man in the kingdom for him to wrap his hands around your throat. You remember your body flailing, the coldness of your cheeks as tears fell from your bulging eyes. He dropped you by your mother’s cold command. As you gulped for any type of air she told you to stand. Her patience grew thin quickly as she ripped you off of the ground, your legs nearly collapsing from the force. A shroud of care she put herself under, letting her adorned knuckles skim across your cheekbones as she talked about your fate. You're being shipped off to marry the highest knight family, the Todorokis. Enjirou, commander of the Kingsguard, sought after you for his son, Natsuo Todoroki, for months. Your inappropriate actions caused your arranged marriage to arrive quicker. Her veil lifted, and in an instant, she whipped her hand across your face, the blow smacking your staggering body to the side. Their eyes entertained at your cry. She fixed her rings as she declared your fate. House arrest until the Todorokis picked up their new toy. They left you on the ground, weeping until Dabi arrived.

Stammers and hiccups escaped your lips instead of comprehensible words. His shirt crumpled under the intensity of your grip. In that time, Dabi had gathered all the information needed. The look in his eyes was unreadable as he loosened your constriction on his clothes, fingers interlacing in between your shaky digits. A shadow cast over his face as he talked to you.

“(Y/n),” your eyes dull and lost, you were wrapped up in your own severed psyche. A finger on your chin, he guided you to meet his eyes.

“Let me fix this,” It wasn’t a duel, but warfare that unfolded in his headspace as he asked, begged for your permission. You barely felt yourself nod before seeing the flame reignited in Dabi’s eyes. The smile on his face grew like a wildfire, nearly meeting the staples under his eyes. He left your numb body with a soft peck and a willful promise before walking, for the first time, out your bedroom door. Muted footsteps sounded miles away even though he left the door wide open. When did you end up on the ground, scraped knees meeting the plush of your rug, though you did not feel it? The warmth of the room dissipated from the air, goosebumps rising along your skin. Your body could only focus on one sense at a time, tuning into the sounds around you. Though muffled, you could hear the guttural screaming coming from rooms away. The cries formed into pleas before morphing back into incomprehensibility. Whether your body was protecting you from further trauma or not, your audible sense shut off only to look at the smeared blood all over your rug. Your ears never picked up on your outcry, pushing your diaphragm, but Dabi’s did.

He sprinted back to your room immediately, leaving his fires to completely consume your parents and lick at the foundations of the walls. His black coat draped over your body before he lifted you into his arms. The hungry fire now satiated, he left the same way he entered but with now, with you within his arms.

He knows what he did wrong, rubbing salt into your traumatic wounds, but he had a mission to do. He held your trembling body closer to his lithe frame. The league finally made their first step to instigating chaos but that did not matter right now. Dashing through the alleyways, he took a look into your blank eyes, cast away into another realm. The sounds of the Knights fighting against your burning house faded as he ran. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut as he made another promise to you.

“No one will ever tear us apart. I don’t care if this whole place burns to the ground. Just know you are the only one that matters. It’ll just be me and you at the end. Whatever it takes to get there.”

#bnha dabi x reader #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x black reader #dabi x poc reader #dabi x black!reader

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grigori77 · 4 years ago

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2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 3)

10. WOLFWALKERS – eleven years ago, Irish director Tomm Moore exploded onto the animated cinema scene with The Secret of Kells, a spellbinding feature debut which captivated audiences the world over and even garnered an Oscar nomination. Admittedly I didn’t actually even know about it until I discovered his work through his astonishing follow-up, Song of the Sea (another Academy Award nominee), in 2015, so when I finally caught it I was already a fan of Moore’s work. It’s been a similarly long wait for his third feature, but he’s genuinely pulled off a hat-trick, delivering a third flawless film in a row which OF COURSE means that his latest feature is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my top animated feature of 2020. I could even be tempted to say it’s his best work to date … this is an ASTONISHING film, a work of such breath-taking, spell-binding beauty that I spent its entire hour and three-quarters glued to the screen, simple mesmerised by the wonder and majesty of this latest iteration of the characteristically stylised “Cartoon Saloon” look. It’s also liberally steeped in Moore’s trademark Celtic vibe and atmosphere, once again delving deep into his homeland’s rich and evocative cultural history and mythology while also bringing us something far more original and personal – this time the titular supernatural beings are magical near-human beings whose own subconscious can assume the form of very real wolves. Set in a particularly dark time in Irish history – namely 1650, when Oliver Cromwell was Lord Protector – the story follows Robyn (Honor Kneafsey, probably best known for the Christmas Prince films), the impetuous and spirited young daughter of English hunter Bill Goodfellowe (Sean Bean), brought in by the Protectorate to rid the city of Kilkenny of the wolves plaguing the area. One day fate intervenes and Robyn meets Mebh Og MacTire (The Girl at the End of the Garden‘s Eve Whittaker), a wild girl living in the woods, whose accidental bite gives her strange dreams in which she becomes a wolf – turns out Mebh is a wolfwalker, and now so is Robyn … every aspect of this film is an utter triumph for Moore and co, who have crafted a work of living, breathing cinematic art that’s easily the equal to (if not even better than) the best that Disney, Dreamworks or any of the other animation studios could create. Then there’s the excellent voice cast – Bean brings fatherly warmth and compassion to the role that belies his character’s intimidating size, while Kneafsey and Whittaker make for a sweet and sassy pair as they bond in spite of powerful cultural differences, and the masterful Simon McBurney (Harry Potter, Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) brings cool, understated menace to the role of Cromwell himself. This is a film with plenty of emotional heft to go with its marvels, and once again displays the welcome dark side which added particular spice to Moore’s previous films, but ultimately this is still a gentle and heartfelt work of wonder that makes for equally suitable viewing for children as for those who are still kids at heart – ultimately, then, this is another triumph for one of the most singularly original filmmakers working in animation today, and if Wolfwalkers doesn’t make it third time lucky come Oscars-time then there’s no justice in the world …

9. WONDER WOMAN 1984 – probably the biggest change for 2020 compared to pretty much all of the past decade is how different the fortunes of superhero cinema turned out to be. A year earlier the Marvel Cinematic Universe had dominated all, but the DC Extended Universe still got a good hit in with big surprise hit Shazam! Fast-forward to now and things are VERY different – DC suddenly came out in the lead, but only because Marvel’s intended heavy-hitters (two MCU movies, the first Venom sequel and potential hot-shit new franchise starter Morbius: the Living Vampire) found themselves continuously pushed back thanks to (back then) unforeseen circumstances which continue to shit all over our theatre-going slate for the immediate future. In the end DC’s only SERIOUS competition turned out to be NETFLIX … never mind, at least we got ONE big established superhero blockbuster into the cinemas before the end of the year that the whole family could enjoy, and who better to headline it than DC’s “newest” big screen megastar, Diana Prince? Back in 2017 Monster’s Ball director Patty Jenkins’ monumental DCEU standalone spectacularly realigned the trajectory of a cinematic franchise that was visibly flagging, redesigning the template for the series’ future which has since led to some (mostly) consistently impressive subsequent offerings. Needless to say it was a damn tough act to follow, but Jenkins and co-writers Geoff Johns (Arrow and The Flash) and David Callaham (The Expendables, Zombieland: Double Tap, future MCU entry Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings) have risen to the challenge in fine style, delivering something which pretty much equals that spectacular franchise debut … as has Gal Gadot, who’s now OFFICIALLY made the role her own thanks to yet another showstopping and definitive performance as the unstoppable Amazonian goddess living amongst us. She’s older and wiser than in the first film, but still hasn’t lost that forthright honesty and wonderfully pure heart we’ve come to love ever since her introduction in Zack Snyder’s troublesome but ultimately underrated Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice (yes, that’s right, I said it!), and Gadot’s clear, overwhelming commitment to the role continues to pay off magnificently as she once again proves that Diana is THE VERY BEST superhero in the DCEU cinematic pantheon. Although it takes place several decades after its predecessor, WW84 is, obviously, still very much a period piece, Jenkins and co this time perfectly capturing the sheer opulent and over-the-top tastelessness of the 1980s in all its big-haired, bad-suited, oversized shoulder-padded glory while telling a story that encapsulates the greedy excessiveness of the Reagan era, perfectly embodied in the film’s nominal villain, Max Lord (The Mandalorian himself, Pedro Pascal), a wishy-washy wannabe oil tycoon conman who chances upon a supercharged wish-rock and unleashes a devastating supernatural “monkey’s paw” upon the world. To say any more would give away a whole raft of spectacular twists and turns that deserve to be enjoyed good and cold, although they did spoil one major surprise in the trailer when they teased the return of Diana’s first love, Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) … needless to say this is another big blockbuster bursting with big characters, big action and BIG IDEAS, just what we’ve come to expect after Wonder Woman’s first triumphant big screen adventure. Interestingly, the film starts out feeling like it’s going to be a bubbly, light, frothy affair – after a particularly stunning all-action opening flashback to Diana’s childhood on Themyscira, the film proper kicks off with a bright and breezy atmosphere that feels a bit like the kind of Saturday morning cartoon action the consistently impressive set-pieces take such unfettered joy in parodying, but as the stakes are raised the tone grows darker and more emotionally potent, the storm clouds gathering for a spectacularly epic climax that, for once, doesn’t feel too overblown or weighed down by its visual effects, while the intelligent script has unfathomable hidden depths to it, making us think far more than these kinds of blockbusters usually do. It’s really great to see Chris Pine return since he was one of the best things about the first movie, and his lovably childlike wide-eyed wonder at this brave new world perfectly echoes Diana’s own last time round; Kristen Wiig, meanwhile, is pretty phenomenal throughout as Dr Barbara Minerva, the initially geeky and timid nerd who discovers an impressive inner strength but ultimately turns into a superpowered apex predator as she becomes one of Wonder Woman’s most infamous foes, the Cheetah; Pascal, of course, is clearly having the time of his life hamming it up to the hilt as Lord, playing gloriously against his effortlessly cool, charismatic action hero image to deliver a compellingly troubling examination of the monstrous corrupting influence of absolute power. Once again, though, the film truly belongs to Gadot – she looks amazing, acts her socks off magnificently, and totally rules the movie. After this, a second sequel is a no-brainer, because Wonder Woman remains the one DC superhero who’s truly capable of bearing the weight of this particular cinematic franchise on her powerful shoulders – needless to say, it’s already been greenlit, and with both Jenkins and Gadot onboard, I’m happy to sign up for more too …

8. LOVE & MONSTERS – with the cinemas continuing their frustrating habit of opening for a little while and then closing while the pandemic ebbed and flowed in the months after the summer season, it was starting to look like there might not have been ANY big budget blockbusters to enjoy before year’s end as heavyweights like Black Widow, No Time To Die and Dune pulled back to potentially more certain release slots into 2021 (with only WW84 remaining stubbornly in place for Christmas). Then Paramount decided to throw us a bone, opting to release this post-apocalyptic horror comedy on-demand in October instead, thus giving me the perfect little present to tie me over during the darkening days of autumn. The end result was a stone-cold gem that came out of nowhere to completely blow critics away, a spectacular sleeper hit that ultimately proved one of the year’s biggest and most brilliant surprises. Director Michael Matthews may only have had South African indie thriller Five Fingers for Marseilles under his belt prior to this, but he proves he’s definitely a solid talent to watch in the future, crafting a fun and effective thrill-ride that, like all the best horror comedies, is consistently as funny as it is scary, sharing much of the same DNA as this particular mash-up genre’s classics like Tremors and Zombieland and standing up impressively well to such comparisons. The story, penned by rising star Brian Duffield (who has TWO other entries on this list, Underwater and Spontaneous) and Matthew Robinson (The Invention of Lying, Dora & the Lost City of Gold), is also pretty ingenious and surprisingly original – a meteorite strike has unleashed weird mutagenic pathogens that warp various creepy crawly critters into gigantic monstrosities that have slaughter most of the world’s human population, leaving only a beleaguered, dwindling few to eke out a precarious living in underground colonies. Living in one such makeshift community is Joel Dawson (The Maze Runner’s Dylan O’Brien), a smart and likeable geek who really isn’t very adventurous, is extremely awkward and uncoordinated, and has a problem with freezing if threatened … which makes it all the more inexplicable when he decides, entirely against the advice of everyone he knows, to venture onto the surface so he can make the incredibly dangerous week-long trek to the neighbouring colony where his girlfriend Aimee (Iron Fist’s Jessica Henwick) has ended up. Joel is, without a doubt, the best role that O’Brien has EVER had, a total dork who’s completely unsuited to this kind of adventure and, in the real world, sure to be eaten alive in the first five minutes, but he’s also such a fantastically believable, fallible everyman that every one of us desperate, pathetic omega-males and females can instantly put ourselves in his place, making it elementarily easy to root for him. He’s also hilariously funny, his winningly self-deprecating sass and pitch perfect talent for physical comedy making it all the more rewarding watching each gloriously anarchic life-and-death encounter mould him into the year’s most unlikely action hero. Henwick, meanwhile, once again impresses in a well-written role where she’s able to make a big impression despite her decidedly short screen time, as do the legendary Michael Rooker and brilliant newcomer Ariana Greenblatt as Clyde and Minnow, the adorably jaded, seen-it-all-before pair of “professional survivors” Joel meets en-route, who teach him to survive on the surface. The action is fast, frenetic and potently visceral, the impressively realistic digital creature effects bringing a motley crew of bloodthirsty beasties to suitably blood-curdling life for the film’s consistently terrifying set-pieces, while the world-building is intricately thought-out and skilfully executed. Altogether, this was an absolute joy from start to finish, and a film I enthusiastically endorsed to everyone I knew was looking for something fun to enjoy during the frustrating lockdown nights-in. One of the cinematic year’s best kept secrets then, and a compelling sign of things to come for its up-and-coming director.

7. PARASITE – I’ve been a fan of master Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-ho ever since I stumbled across his deeply weird but also thoroughly brilliant breakthrough feature The Host, and it’s a love that’s deepened since thanks to truly magnificent sci-fi actioner Snowpiercer, so I was looking forward to his latest feature as much as any movie geek, but even I wasn’t prepared for just what a runaway juggernaut of a hit this one turned out to be, from the insane box office to all that award-season glory (especially that undeniable clean-sweep at the Oscars). I’ll just come out and say it, this film deserves it all. It’s EASILY Bong’s best film to date (which is really saying something), a masterful social satire and jet black comedy that raises some genuinely intriguing questions before delivering deeply troubling answers. Straddling the ever-widening gulf between a disaffected idle rich upper class and impoverished, struggling lower class in modern-day Seoul, it tells the story of the Kim family – father Ki-taek (Bong’s good luck charm, Song Kang-ho), mother Chung-sook (Jang Hye-jin), son Ki-woo (Train to Busan’s Choi Woo-shik) and daughter Ki-jung (The Silenced’s Park So-dam) – a poor family living in a run-down basement apartment who live hand-to-mouth in minimum wage jobs and can barely rub two pennies together, until they’re presented with an intriguing opportunity. Through happy chance, Ki-woon is hired as an English tutor for Park Da-hye (Jung Ji-so), the daughter of a wealthy family, which offers him the chance to recommend Ki-jung as an art tutor to the Parks’ troubled young son, Da-song (Jung Hyeon-jun). Soon the rest of the Kims are getting in on the act, the kids contriving opportunities for their father to replace Mr Park’s chauffeur and their mother to oust the family’s long-serving housekeeper, Gook Moon-gwang (Lee Jung-eun), and before long their situation has improved dramatically. But as they two families become more deeply entwined, cracks begin to show in their supposed blissful harmony as the natural prejudices of their respective classes start to take hold, and as events spiral out of control a terrible confrontation looms on the horizon. This is social commentary at its most scathing, Bong drawing on personal experiences from his youth to inform the razor-sharp script (co-written by his production assistant Han Jin-won), while he weaves a palpable atmosphere of knife-edged tension throughout to add spice to the perfectly observed dark humour of the situation, all the while throwing intriguing twists and turns at us before suddenly dropping such a massive jaw-dropper of a gear-change that the film completely turns on its head to stunning effect. The cast are all thoroughly astounding, Song once again dominating the film with a turn at once sloppy and dishevelled but also poignant and heartfelt, while there are particularly noteworthy turns from Lee Sun-kyun as the Parks’ self-absorbed patriarch Dong-ik and Choi Yeo-jeong (The Concubine) as his flighty, easily-led wife Choi Yeon-gyo, as well as a fantastically weird appearance in the latter half from Park Myung-hoon. This is heady stuff, dangerously seductive even as it becomes increasingly uncomfortable viewing, so that even as the screws tighten and everything goes to hell it’s simply impossible to look away. Bong Joon-ho really has surpassed himself this time, delivering an existential mind-scrambler that lingers long after the credits have rolled and might even have you questioning your place in society once you’ve thought about it some. It deserves every single award and every ounce of praise it’s been lavished with, and looks set to go down as one of the true cinematic greats of this new decade. Trust me, if this was a purely critical best-of list it’d be RIGHT AT THE TOP …

6. THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’ undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular series with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping great ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in a thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered. Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who’s working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan. The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here. Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’. They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story. Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large. After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …

5. MANK – it’s always nice when David Fincher, one of my TOP FIVE ALL TIME FAVOURITE DIRECTORS, drops a new movie, because it can be GUARANTEED to place good and high in my rundown for that year. The man is a frickin’ GENIUS, a true master of the craft, genuinely one of the auteur’s auteurs. I’ve NEVER seen him deliver a bad film – even a misfiring Fincher (see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or Alien 3) is still capable of creating GREAT CINEMA. How? Why? It’s because he genuinely LOVES the art form, it’s been his obsession all his life, and he’s spent every day of it becoming the best possible filmmaker he can be. Who better to tell the story of the creation of one of the ULTIMATE cinematic masterpieces, then? Benjamin Ross’ acclaimed biopic RKO 281 covered similar ground, presenting a compelling look into the making Citizen Kane, the timeless masterpiece of Hollywood’s ULTIMATE auteur, Orson Welles, but Fincher’s film is more interested in the original inspiration for the story, how it was written and, most importantly, the man who wrote it – Herman J. Mankiewicz, known to his friends as Mank. One of my favourite actors of all time, Gary Oldman, delivers yet another of his career best performances in the lead role, once a man of vision and incredible storytelling skill whose talents have largely been squandered through professional difficulties and personal vices, a burned out one-time great fallen on hard times whom Welles picks up out of the trash, dusts off and offers a chance to create something truly great again. The only catch? The subject of their film (albeit dressed up in the guise of fictional newspaper magnate Charles Foster Kane) is to be real-life publisher, politico and tycoon William Randolph Hurst (Charles Dance), once Mank’s friend and patron before they had a very public and messy falling out which partly led to his current circumstances. As he toils away in seclusion on what is destined to become his true masterwork, flashbacks reveal to us the fascinating, moving and ultimately tragic tale of his rise and fall from grace in the movie business, set against the backdrop of one of the most tumultuous periods in American history. Shooting a script that his own journalist and screenwriter father, Jack, crafted and then failed to bring to the screen himself before his death in 2003, Fincher has been working for almost a quarter century to make this film, and all that passion and drive is writ large on the screen – this is a glorious film ABOUT film, the art of it, the creation of it, and all the dirty little secrets of what the industry itself has always really been like, especially in that most glamorous and illusory of times. The fact that Fincher shot in black and white and intentionally made it look like it was made in the early 1940s (the “golden age of the Silver Screen”, if you will) may seem like a gimmick, but instead it’s a very shrewd choice that expertly captures the gloss and moodiness of the age, almost looking like a contemporary companion piece to Kane itself, and it’s the perfect way to frame all the sharp-witted observation, subtly subversive character development and murky behind-the-scenes machinations that tell the story. Oldman is in every way the star here, holding the screen with all the consummate skill and flair we’ve come to expect from him, but there’s no denying the uniformly excellent supporting cast are equal to the task here – Dance is at his regal, charismatic best as Hearst, while Amanda Seyfried is icily classy on the surface but mischievous and lovably grounded underneath as Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies, who formed the basis for Kane’s most controversial character, Arliss Howard (Full Metal Jacket, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Moneyball) brings nuance and complexity to the role of MGM founder Louis B. Mayer, Tom Pelphrey (Banshee, Ozark) is understated but compelling as Mank’s younger screenwriter brother Joseph, and Lily Collins and Tuppence Middleton exude class and long-suffering stubbornness as the two main women in Mank’s life (his secretary and platonic muse, Rita Alexander, and his wife, Sara), while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke’s periodic but potent appearances as Orson Welles help to drive the story in the “present”. Another Netflix release which I was (thankfully) able to catch on the big screen during one of the brief lulls between British lockdowns, this was a decidedly meta cinematic experience that perfectly encapsulated not only what is truly required for the creation of a screen epic, but also the latest pinnacle in the career of one of the greatest filmmakers working in the business today, powerful, stirring, intriguing and surprising in equal measure. Certainly it’s one of the most important films ABOUT so far film this century, but is it as good as Citizen Kane? Boy, that’s a tough one …

4. ENOLA HOLMES – ultimately, my top film for the autumn/winter movie season was also the film which finally topped my Netflix Original features list, as well as beating all other streaming offerings for the entire year (which is saying something, as you should know by now). Had things been different, this would have been one of Warner Bros’ BIGGEST releases for the year in the cinema, of that I have no doubt, a surprise sleeper hit which would have taken the world by storm – as it is it’s STILL become a sensation, albeit in a much more mid-pandemic, lockdown home-viewing kind of way. Before you start crying oh God no, not another Sherlock Holmes adaptation, this is a very different beast from either the Guy Ritchie take or the modernized BBC show, instead side-lining the great literary sleuth in favour of a delicious new AU version, based on The Case of the Missing Marquess, the first novel in the Enola Holmes Mysteries literary series from American YA author Nancy Springer. Positing that Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) and his elder brother Mycroft (Sam Claflin) had an equally ingenious and precocious baby sister, the film introduces us to Enola (Stranger Things’ Millie Bobby Brown), who’s been raised at home by their strong-willed mother Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter) to be just as intelligent, well-read and intellectually skilled as her far more advantageously masculine elder siblings. Then, on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Enola awakens to find her mother has vanished, putting her in a pretty pickle since this leaves her a ward of Mycroft, a self-absorbed social peacock who finds her to be wilfully free-spirited and completely ill equipped to face the world, concluding that the only solution is sending her to boarding school where she’ll learn to become a proper lady. Needless to say she’s horrified by the prospect, deciding to run away and search for her mother instead … this is about as perfect a family adventure film as you could wish for, following a vital, capable and compelling teen detective-in-the-making as she embarks on her very first investigation, as well as winding up tangled in a second to boot involving a young runaway noble, Viscount Tewkesbury, the Marquess of Basilwether (Medici’s Louis Partridge), and the film is a breezy, swift-paced and rewardingly entertaining romp that feels like a welcome breath of fresh air for a literary property which, beloved as it may be, has been adapted to death over the years. Enola Holmes a brilliant young hero who’s perfectly crafted to carry the franchise forward in fresh new directions, and Brown brings her to life with effervescent charm, boisterous energy and mischievous irreverence that are entirely irresistible; Cavill and Claflin, meanwhile, are perfectly cast as the two very different brothers – this Sherlock is much less louche and world-weary than most previous versions, still razor sharp and intellectually restless but with a comfortable ease and a youthful spring in his step that perfectly suits the actor, while Mycroft is as superior and arrogant as ever, a preening arse we derive huge enjoyment watching Enola consistently get the best of; Bonham Carter doesn’t get a lot of screen-time but as we’d expect she does a lot with what she has to make the practical, eccentric and unapologetically modern Eudoria thoroughly memorable, while Partridge is carefree and likeable as the naïve but irresistible Tewkesbury, and there are strong supporting turns from Frances de la Tour as his stately grandmother, the Dowager, Susie Wokoma (Crazyhead, Truth Seekers) as Emily, a feisty suffragette who runs a jujitsu studio, Burn Gorman as dastardly thug-for-hire Linthorn, and Four Lions’ Adeel Akhtar as a particularly scuzzy Inspector Lestrade. Seasoned TV director Harry Bradbeer (Fleabag, Killing Eve) makes his feature debut with an impressive splash, unfolding the action at a brisk pace while keeping the narrative firmly focused on an intricate mystery plot that throws in plenty of ingenious twists and turns before a suitably atmospheric climax and pleasing denouement which nonetheless artfully sets up more to come in the future, while screenwriter Jack Thorne (His Dark Materials, The Scouting Book for Boys, Wonder) delivers strong character work and liberally peppers the dialogue with a veritable cavalcade of witty zingers. Boisterous, compelling, amusing, affecting and exciting in equal measure, this is a spirited and appealing slice of cinematic escapism that flatters its viewers and never talks down to them, a perfect little period adventure for a cosy Sunday afternoon. Obviously there’s plenty of potential for more, and with further books to adapt there’s more than enough material for a pile of sequels – Neflix would be barmy indeed to turn their nose up at this opportunity …

3. 1917 – it’s a rare thing for a film to leave me truly shell-shocked by its sheer awesomeness, for me to walk out of a cinema in a genuine daze, unable to talk or even really think about much of anything for a few hours because I’m simply marvelling at what I’ve just witnessed. Needless to say, when I do find a film like that (Fight Club, Inception, Mad Max: Fury Road) it usually earns a place very close to my heart indeed. The latest tour-de-force from Sam Mendes is one of those films – an epic World War I thriller that plays out ENTIRELY in one shot, which doesn’t simply feel like a glorified gimmick or stunt but instead is a genuine MASTERPIECE of film, a mesmerising journey of emotion and imagination in a shockingly real environment that’s impossible to tear your eyes away from. Sure, Mendes has impressed us before – his first film, American Beauty, is a GREAT movie, one of the most impressive feature debuts of the 2000s, while Skyfall is, in my opinion, quite simply THE BEST BOND FILM EVER MADE – but this is in a whole other league. It’s an astounding achievement, made all the more impressive when you realise that there’s very little trickery at play here, no clever digital magic (just some augmentation here and there), it’s all real locations and sets, filmed in long, elaborately choreographed takes blended together with clever edits to make it as seamless as possible – it’s not the first film to try to do this (remember Birdman? Bushwick?), but I’ve never seen it done better, or with greater skill. But it’s not just a clever cinematic exercise, there’s a genuine story here, told with guts and urgency, and populated by real flesh and blood characters – the heart of the film is True History of the Kelly Gang’s George MacKay and Dean Chapman (probably best known as Tommen Baratheon in Game of Thrones) as Lance Corporals Will Schofield and Tom Blake, the two young tommies sent out across enemy territory on a desperate mission to stop a British regiment from rushing headlong into a German trap (Tom himself has a personal stake in this because his brother is an officer in the attack). They’re a likeable pair, very human and relatable throughout, brave and true but never so overtly heroic that they stretch credibility, so when tragedy strikes along the way it’s particularly devastating; both deliver exceptional performances that effortlessly carry us through the film, and they’re given sterling support from a selection of top-drawer British talent, from Sherlock stars Andrew Scott and Benedict Cumberbatch to Mark Strong and Colin Firth, each delivering magnificently in small but potent cameos. That said, the cinematography and art department are the BIGGEST stars here, masterful veteran DOP Roger Deakins (The Shawshank Redemption, Blade Runner 2049 and pretty much the Coen Brothers’ entire back catalogue among MANY others) making every frame sing with beauty, horror, tension or tragedy as the need arises, and the environments are SO REAL it feels less like production design than that someone simply sent the cast and crew back in time to film in the real Northern France circa 1917 – from a nightmarish trek across No Man’s Land to a desperate chase through a ruined French village lit only by dancing flare-light in the darkness before dawn, every scene is utterly immersive and simply STUNNING. I don’t think it’s possible for Mendes to make a film better than this, but I sure hope he gives it a go all the same. Either way, this was the most incredible, exhausting, truly AWESOME experience I had at the cinema all year – it’s a film that DESERVES to be seen on the big screen, and I feel truly sorry for those who missed the chance …

2. BIRDS OF PREY & THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN – the only reason 1917 isn’t at number two is because Warner Bros.’ cinematic DC Extended Universe project FINALLY got round to bringing my favourite DC Comics title to the big screen. It was been the biggest pleasure of my cinematic year getting to see my top DC superheroines brought to life on the big screen, and it was done in high style, in my opinion THE BEST of the DCEU films to date (yup, I loved it EVEN MORE than the Wonder Woman movies). It was also great seeing Harley Quinn return after her show-stealing turn in David Ayer’s clunky but ultimately still hugely enjoyable Suicide Squad, better still that they got her SPOT ON this time – this is the Harley I’ve always loved in the comics, unpredictable, irreverent and entirely without regard for what anyone else thinks of her, as well as one talented psychiatrist. Margot Robbie once more excels in the role she was basically BORN to play, clearly relishing the chance to finally do Harley TRUE justice, and she’s a total riot from start to finish, infectiously lovable no matter what crazy, sometimes downright REPRIHENSIBLE antics she gets up to. Needless to say she’s the nominal star here, her latest ill-advised adventure driving the story – finally done with the Joker and itching to make her emancipation official, Harley publicly announces their breakup by blowing up Ace Chemicals (their love spot, basically), inadvertently painting a target on her back in the process since she’s no longer under the assumed protection of Gotham’s feared Clown Prince of Crime – but that doesn’t mean she eclipses the other main players the movie’s REALLY supposed to be about. Each member of the Birds of Prey is beautifully written and brought to vivid, arse-kicking life by what had to be 2020’s most exciting cast – Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress, is the perfect character for Mary Elizabeth Winstead to finally pay off on that action hero potential she showed in Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but this is a MUCH more enjoyable role outside of the fight choreography because while Helena may be a world-class dark avenger, socially she’s a total dork, which just makes her thoroughly adorable; Rosie Perez is similarly perfect casting as Renee Montoya, the uncompromising pint-sized Gotham PD detective who kicks against the corrupt system no matter what kind of trouble it gets her into, and just gets angrier all the time, paradoxically making us like her even more; and then there’s the film’s major controversy, at least as far as the fans are concerned, namely one Cassandra Cain. Sure, this take is VERY different from the comics’ version (a nearly mute master assassin who went on to become the second woman to wear the mask of Batgirl before assuming her own crime-fighting mantle as Black Bat and now Orphan), but personally I like to think this is simply Cass at THE VERY START of her origin story, leaving plenty of time for her to discover her warrior origins when the DCEU finally gets around to introducing her mum, Lady Shiva (personally I want Michelle Yeoh to play her, but that’s just me) – anyways, here she’s a skilled child pickpocket whose latest theft inadvertently sets off the larger central plot, and newcomer Ella Jay Basco brings a fantastic pre-teen irreverence and spiky charm to the role, beautifully playing against Robbie’s mercurial energy. My favourite here BY FAR, however, is Dinah Lance, aka the Black Canary (not only my favourite Bird of Prey but my very favourite DC superheroine PERIOD), the choice of up-and-comer Jurnee Smollet-Bell (Friday Night Lights, Underground) proving to be the film’s most inspired casting – a club singer with the metahuman ability to emit piercing supersonic screams, she’s also a ferocious martial artist (in the comics she’s one of the very best fighters IN THE WORLD), as well as a wonderfully pure soul you just can’t help loving, and it made me SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY that they got my Canary EXACTLY RIGHT. Altogether they’re a fantastic bunch of badass ladies, basically my perfect superhero team, and the way they’re all brought together (along with Harley, of course) is beautifully thought out and perfectly executed … they’ve also got one hell of a threat to overcome, namely Gotham crime boss Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, one of the Joker’s chief rivals – Ewan McGregor brings his A-game in a frustratingly rare villainous turn (my number one bad guy for the movie year), a monstrously narcissistic, woman-hating control freak with a penchant for peeling off the faces of those who displease him, sharing some exquisitely creepy chemistry with Chris Messina (The Mindy Project) as Sionis’ nihilistic lieutenant Victor Zsasz. This is about as good as superhero cinema gets, a perfect example of the sheer brilliance you get when you switch up the formula to create something new, an ultra-violent, unapologetically R-rated middle finger to the classic tropes, a fantastic black comedy thrill ride that’s got to be the most full-on feminist blockbuster ever made – it’s helmed by a woman (Dead Pigs director Cathy Yan), written by a woman (Bumblebee’s Christina Hodson), produced by more women and ABOUT a bunch of badass women magnificently triumphing over toxic masculinity in all its forms. It’s also simply BRILLIANT – the cast are all clearly having a blast, the action sequences are first rate (the spectacular GCPD evidence room fight in which Harley gets to REALLY cut loose is the undisputable highlight), it has a gleefully anarchic sense of humour and is simply BURSTING with phenomenal homages, references and in-jokes for the fans (Bruce the hyena! Stuffed beaver! Roller derby!). It’s also got a killer soundtrack, populated almost exclusively by numbers from female artists. Altogether, then, this is the VERY BEST the DCEU has to offer to date, and VERY NEARLY my absolute FAVOURITE film of 2020. Give it all the love you can, it sure as hell deserves it.

1. TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly saved our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that my ultimate top-spot winner FOR THE WHOLE YEAR was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN. You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August and ultimately taking the bite at the box office because of the still shaky atmosphere), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with. I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the first reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night-out big screen EXPERIENCE since March. Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT. Still with us? Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who was ALMOST the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s Himesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine. The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even if that amazing new teaser trailer wasn’t making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic. As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual triumph and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital. The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some absolutely mesmerising visuals. Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he had good reason, since he was working on his dream project at the time, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his collaborations with Ryan Coogler Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as career-best work on The Mandalorian) is a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence this film is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven. As a work of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that proved truly unbeatable in 2020 …

#wolfwalkers #wonder woman 1984 #ww84 #love and monsters #parasite #parasite movie #the old guard #mank #enola holmes #1917 #1917 movie #Birds of Prey #birds of prey the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #tenet #tenet movie #2020 in movies

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arvandus · 5 years ago

Text

Touch (Pt 5)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Special thank you to @salvator-heartbreaker who has helped me hash out this chapter and some future plot details; this would not be as amazing as it is without her help!

Chapter warning: This’ll get a bit heavy; just a heads up. Please be aware of the warning tags.

Recommended Chapter Song: Put Me Under by Grandson

Part 1 Part 4

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 5 - The Beast

Dabi walked down a long hallway, dark wooden floors cast in a dim orange glow from the mounted wall sconces. Every feature was cast in heightened detail – the color of the walls, the pictures on them, the ceiling with its wooden planks mirroring the floors like a fun house. But something was off about it. The sound of his footsteps was strangely absent, the faces in the pictures blurred by a shadow that shouldn’t exist.

It was familiar, this place. It filled him with a strange longing mingled with vague trepidation.

The whisper of voices came like a mist, seeping from the walls and soaking into his skin, cold and clammy. The voices were familiar, voices he thought he’d long since forgotten the sound of. He couldn’t make out the words; they jumbled together, swirling into a single hum that vibrated his bones and made his pulse race. Through the din, he thought he heard the sound of crying, a mother’s wail.

Fear seized him, a paralyzing fear he hadn’t felt in years. He had to leave this place. He took the door closest to him, turning the handle to step into black nothingness and suddenly he was falling, falling. He screamed, his voice the sound of a boy, his hands small like a child’s, wrapped in dirty bandages grasping at nothing. Blue flames erupted underneath him, devouring him like an ancient beast come to take him down into hell.

Dabi sat up in his bed with a jolt, his nerves screaming and his sheets drenched in sweat as the sound of his heavy panting filled the room. It was dark, except for the moonlight that crept through his window carried on a cold night breeze with each soft billow of the curtain.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tried to steady his pounding heart. The nightmares were coming back.

Dabi’s head pounded. Every muscle in his body ached, his damaged nerves on fire. A wave of nausea overtook him, and he rushed to the bathroom, retching and gagging in the darkness. Once he was sure there was nothing left, he flushed the toilet and sat down on the lid with his head in his hands while his dark world spun around him. He was a celestial body, knocked off its axis and careening into the burning sun of reality. There was no soft curtain between himself and the harshness of the cold floor under his feet, the sour taste in his mouth, or the loudness of the crickets outside his window. There was no comforting haze to cocoon himself in, his chrysalis torn from him before he could finish his transformation. He felt incomplete, broken, hungry.

Your pills weren’t enough. They had helped a little at first, but his body was already burning through them and adapting, wanting more. The addiction was a raging beast that couldn’t be satiated, and right now, in the stink of his bathroom with his sweat drying on his skin, he could feel its familiar pull. It was a siren’s song, played on the strings of his nerves in an off-tune melody that only he could hear. It sang of old promises, a promise of freedom from pain and suffering, a promise to protect him against his nightmares like a faithful guardian, a promise of sleep… if only he could pay the price.

He needed more. More of your pills, more of his own… just more. Anything to make this feeling go away, to put this beast to rest.

There was no peace for him when he was like this.

He thought of you. You had said he could come to you at any time. Did you really mean it? If he knocked on your door at this hour would you let him in? Would you give him what he needed?

Would you understand?

Desperation made Dabi pull himself up from the toilet, and he stared at himself in the mirror. Disgust filled him. In the dark of his bathroom, the shadow of his face looked downright terrifying. Would the sight of him late at night cloaked in shadow scare you? Would you scream?

You said it would be okay.

Another wave of nausea hit him, and he leaned over, his forehead pressed against the cold porcelain of his sink as he forced deep, long breaths into his aching lungs. He didn’t have a choice. He quickly rinsed his mouth with water to rid himself of the taste lingering in his mouth and made his way out of his room and down the hall.

Dabi stopped outside your door, hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on your doorknob.

He hesitated. A vague memory of your wounded expression drifted into his tattered mind. He had forgotten that he had hurt you, and he wondered if that would make a difference now. Were your words just words? Empty promises to be abandoned as soon as you got stung?

The beast of addiction growled threateningly. If you abandoned him, it would take what it needed by any means necessary. Its survival was paramount.

Not a lot scared Dabi. But in that moment, the thought of him hurting you to feed his addiction made him almost turn around and go back to his room. Or leave the building all together. Anything to get himself away from you.

But his feet wouldn’t move. They were rooted into the ground, his body poised like a blood hound who’d caught a scent. The beast knew where the drugs were and wouldn’t let him leave.

Maybe he’d apologize. He hated apologizing; he never apologized for anything. But in this case, it’d be worth it, if only you’d open that little bottle to alleviate his suffering so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Shit, maybe he’d even mean it, if it meant seeing your smile again.

Just as Dabi was about to take his hands out of his pockets to knock on your door, a familiar grating voice cut through his mental fog like high beams on a dark road.

“You’re up late.” Shigaraki commented.

Dabi clenched his hand into a fist within the pocket of his sweatpants and turned to face the pale man staring at him in the hall with as much boredom as he could muster. “So are you.” Dabi replied.

“I’m always up late.” Shigaraki commented. He cocked his head to the side curiously, a glint in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Dabi couldn’t tell him. Wouldn’t tell him. It was none of his business. Anger bubbled in his chest, a raging dragon threatening to spew fire. He bit his cheek hard enough to draw blood, feeling a metal ring clink between his molars. The pain cleared his head, but only slightly.

“Nothing.” Dabi replied. “I was about to head downstairs for a drink.”

Shigaraki stared at him for a moment longer, his gaze calculated. Dabi knew he didn’t believe him, but he wouldn’t give him the luxury of confirming his suspicions. Finally, the hint of smirk turned the corner of Shigaraki’s chapped lips, and he began to turn to leave. “Make sure you wash your whiskey glass this time. I hate hearing Kurogiri complain in the morning before I have my coffee.”

As Dabi watched his back disappear into his room at the end of the hall, he let out the breath he was holding. He stood there a minute longer to make sure he was gone. It was the most he could handle before his hand, with a will of its own, knocked softly on your door – loud enough to hopefully wake you, but not loud enough that others could hear it.

No response greeted him, and Dabi stared at the door, his blue eyes burning holes into it in anger.

You had said you’d be there for him. Why didn’t you answer?

He resisted the urge to pound on your door, waking everyone in the process. Instead, he leaned his forehead against your door, desperation filling him like an overflowing cup. “Open the door.” He whispered, as if his words could reach you in your sleep. The phrase repeated, over and over, like a chant. “Open the door, open the door…”

Did you lock your door at night? Or could he just open it and walk in? What would he do then? Would he wake you up, or just take what he wanted?

Just as his hand was about to reach for the doorknob, he heard shuffling on the other side, and he watched as light spilled out from under your door into the hallway where his own feet waited like tree roots. Sweet relief filled him and he mentally thanked whatever God existed.

You opened the door a crack, eyes bleary as you rubbed the sleep out of them. Light flooded across Dabi’s features and he closed his eyes against the brightness, his arm going up defensively.

“Dabi?” you sleepily mumbled. “What are you-?”

“Kill the light.” Dabi gruffly demanded. His tongue felt dry and heavy.

You closed the door, so it was open just a crack, and he unshielded his bloodshot eyes in time to see the light in the room go out. A moment later, the door opened again, and you stood before him, dimly lit by the hallway, in a tank top and pajama pants.

Your grogginess had dissipated like fog on a windy day, you senses on high alert to the man in front of you. Dabi braced himself against your doorframe as if to keep from falling, his tall, lanky frame filling the space. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, which clung to him with sweat – he hadn’t even bothered to change it before seeking you out; you wondered if it even registered for him. His breath coated you, a staleness to it that was unmistakable and made you want to hold your breath.

Your pills must have worn off already, and he was quickly descending deep into the throes of withdrawal.

Without hesitation, you grabbed him by his hand, taking note of the hot clamminess of it, and pulled him into your room. As you closed the door behind you with a click, darkness fell like a blanket, and all you could see at first was the outline of his tall, black form as his ragged breaths rattled from his chest.

You guided him to the edge of your bed, pushing him down gently by his shoulders. “Just wait here.” You said softly, your words just above a whisper. You retreated to your bathroom and closed the door to keep the bathroom light from blasting into your room where he sat. Immediately, you grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the cold water of your faucet.

You weren’t in there long. You came out a moment later, leaving the light on and the door cracked to let some of the yellow glow filter into the room without being overwhelming; you needed to see what you were doing, after all.

You should have known better; as you made your way to Dabi, you realized he had your supply bag at his feet, your pill bottle in his hand. In your grogginess, you had forgotten that you kept your bag next to your bed, to keep it within reach in case of emergencies. Of course, he’d be tempted by it in his current state.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Dabi,” you warned. “Don’t.”

Dabi didn’t respond to you; his eyes stared at the bottle in his hand, his eyes reading over the name on them, realization rising slowly like a hazy dawn.

“These have your name on them.” Dabi stated.

“Dabi, give me the pills.” You ordered, your tone firm.

“Why do you have these?” Dabi asked. You knew the question was probably rhetorical – he was in no condition to really listen to your answer. Still, you bristled, the question too personal.

“Dabi. Give. Me. The. Pills.”

“I need them.” He replied, his grip tightening around the bottle.

You kneeled in front of him, and you got déjà vu of your visit in his room just a day prior. How quickly the addiction takes hold…

You placed a hand on his forearm, noting the texture of his scars under your fingers. “I know.” You said softly. “I’ll give you some. Just give me the bottle. Please.”

His grip tightened as your hand touched the lid of the bottle. “Trust me.” You whispered, trying to capture his downturned eyes with your own. His eyes finally caught yours, and you placed your other hand over his hot fingers and gently pried them open until he relinquished the plastic container. Once it was safely in your own hands, a breath of air escaped your lungs in relief.

You opened the bottle and handed him three pills. He stared at them.

“I need more.” He said.

Your heart throbbed painfully. “I can’t.” you replied.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” His eyes shot up to glare at you in betrayal.

“I have to make them last.” You replied.

“It’s not enough.” He said.

“I know.” You replied sympathetically. “Take these for now, and we’ll see how you feel in a little bit. We’ll keep a close eye on how long they last this time.”

You could tell he wasn’t satisfied with that, but he swallowed the pills anyway.

“Come on.” You said. “Let me change your bandages for you since you’re here. It’ll give the pills time to start working.”

Dabi didn’t have the will to fight you in that moment. His world was spinning, and his stomach was roiling against the drugs hitting his empty stomach. As if you could read his body like a book, a bottle of water magically appeared in his field of view.

“First, drink this.” You instructed. “And I have crackers I want you to eat.”

“I’ll drink the water, but to hell with your crackers.” Dabi grumbled.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, at least your personality is still intact…” you commented dryly.

You watched him like a hawk as he drank as much of the water as he could; about half of it remained. You wanted him to drink more, but you knew that his nausea was probably keeping him from finishing it. You really hoped he didn’t throw up the pills he just took; you had counted your pills and set a schedule. There was just enough to make sure you didn’t run out before your refills arrived in the next day or two.

Once you were sure he was done, you stuffed the pill bottle into the pocket of your pajamas. Dabi’s eyes followed your every movement. “We need to take off your shirt.” You said.

Dabi pulled the damp white tee over his head and letting it drop on the floor. Your pulse pounded shamefully in your ears; you couldn’t help it. Even with all that was going on, it felt surreal having him here on your bed of all places. You were still mad about what he had said earlier, but when he arrived on your doorstep looking two steps away from death, none of that mattered. You had promised him that you’d be there for him.

You watched him for a moment, taking in his shallow breaths and the way he gripped your comforter against the pain he was enduring. His suffering tortured you; all you wanted to do was to put your hands on him and pour your quirk into him, to caress the rings along his chest and follow your touch with gentle kisses… or to take his head into your arms and hold him close, to whisper that he’d be all right and you’d help him through this…

You pushed the ache away as you averted your eyes. No point in tormenting yourself over something that wasn’t even yours. Besides, right now certainly wasn’t the time for such thoughts. You had to let the drugs do the work… or at the very least, wait until he asked for you. He was vulnerable right now, not really in his right mind. He would go with anything you suggested, if it promised to alleviate his withdrawal. How would he feel later on once he got back to normal, knowing that you did things for him that he might not have normally wanted? Touching him outside of what he explicitly requested was a line you refused to cross.

“Lay down on your stomach.” You instructed.

He did as you asked without comment or complaint, his long body easily filling up the space, the bottom half of his legs hanging off the edge.

You placed the wet washcloth on the back of his neck, and a low, muffled groan fell from his parted lips into your comforter. You applied your quirk to his back before removing the bandages. It was supposed to still be active, lasting until late morning, but there was no way to be certain with his body reacting the way it was. You pushed a little extra into it, to make sure it would last a bit; he was already suffering enough as it was. You paused momentarily to see if he would ask for you to do more, but he never did; his eyes stared listlessly in the direction his head was turned, not really seeing; his body seemed to be in conservation mode. The bandages were starting to come off, losing their stickiness from his sickly sweating. They peeled off easily, like skin off a baked chicken. You scrunched up your nose as you threw the soiled items in the trash.

As you worked carefully, an odd silence filled the room, the kind that only seemed to exist late at night when all of the city was asleep. It was a time when noises were quieter, but shadows seemed louder. A time when everyday life felt muted while the ethereal danced in the streets, the streetlamps their spotlights.

Small sounds filled the silence. Dabi’s steady breaths, the shift of your body on your mattress as you reached for fresh bandages, the sound of paper tearing as you opened a new gauze patch.

You and Dabi were a liminal space, where neither of you lingered. It was a place of impermanence, a space to pass through, filled with brief visits without the intent to stay. Despite that, even now with all that had happened in the past 24 hours, it felt private… intimate. It filled you with an unspoken longing, a desire to capture the beauty of life’s fluidity like a painter captures a landscape. You wanted to take the impermanent and freeze it in time so you could appreciate its nuances in the shape of dark rugged scars and piercing blue eyes framed in wild hair. To be able to stare openly instead of stolen side glances, trying to catch a ghost in your peripheral vision. How did you end up being so drawn to him of all people?

His harsh words from the night before echoed through your mind, a rude reminder. You swallowed the lump in your throat. How cruel it was to be needed by someone but not wanted.

Despite that hurt, you knew wouldn’t abandon him; not like this. You had a responsibility.

“Dabi,” you whispered, checking the face of the man spread across your bed. His eye shifted to look at you, but he didn’t move. “You can get up now.”

Slowly, he sat up, and you handed him his shirt, the sweat on it cooled. You watched as he pulled it back on over his head, his back muscles rippling. A slight shiver passed over him as the damp shirt made contact with his sensitive skin. He paused for a moment, assessing himself. His body aches were lessened, and the nausea was milder. But it was still there, and his head still hurt. And the hunger… the hunger was there too.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

“Better.” He replied. A half-truth. Or was it a half-lie? But weren’t all half-truths just lies in disguise?

“Good.” You breathed with relief. “Do you want me to check on you in a few hours? Or do you want to come to me when you’re ready?”

Dabi turned to look at you, really seeing you for the first time since he arrived. You seemed so kind, so pure… so trusting. A guilt nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it.

“I’ll come to you.” He replied. “I’m gonna go lay down.” He admitted. Why did he feel the need to tell you that?

“Of course. Get some rest if you can.” You replied with a nod.

Dabi stared at you for a moment, taking in your patient face, trying to place the feeling within him. Or was it feelings? Some good, some bad…

His head hurt too much to sort it out. Without a word he left your room, you following him to the door to give him a small wave and a “goodnight” framed in a gentle smile. Something about it seemed off - were you sad?

It was his fault, but he couldn’t remember how. Memories were too heavy to hold right now. Rest. He needed rest.

As you closed the door behind him, Dabi put his hands in his pockets. He felt something in them that wasn’t supposed to be there, and he pulled his hand out to stare at the contents.

Three pills sat in his hands, the weight of them strangely heavy. Or was that the weight of his conscience?

How did he get these? He stared at them blankly.

He couldn’t remember.

But Dabi knew for certain you didn’t give them to him.

A voice in his head told him to turn around and give them back. To apologize for breaking your trust, for violating the fragile agreement you had both mentally signed.

But there was another voice. One that swam in his blood like demons and controlled his muscles.

More, more, more.

He swallowed the pills.

_________________________________________________________

Part 6

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Taglist: @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #soft dabi #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha #mha #TW: drug abuse #TW: drug addiction #tw: withdrawal #dabi is not in a good place #dabi is touya #dabi is a todoroki #touch #dabi touch #angst

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Love, Maybe? {44}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

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

Chapter 44: Surrender

-Vixen-

“A divorce Vix, really?”

You sighed and did your best to ignore her. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy especially now that she found out.

“You can’t ignore me Vixen. I’m like your conscience, your voice of reason. I speak to that part of you that isn’t so withdrawn, the part that wants love, and connection. How do you think you’re going to get any of that by divorcing the man who wants to love you, the man who is trying to connect with you?”

“Nex, let’s not,” you began opening your laptop.

“No, we’re going to.” She came around and slammed it shut again. You gave her an exasperated look.

“No, I’m not afraid of you. One why didn’t you tell me about this? Two, a divorce, is that really what you want? Have you thought about this?”

You really didn’t want to do this. You were already barely hanging on.

“Yes. I’m sure and I have thought about it. What else was I supposed to do Nex? We’re complete strangers. We live in two different worlds, there is no way anything can—this was the right call.”

“You’re full of shit. I know how you feel about him. I know how you’ve always felt about him. You can deny it all you want and ignore it and pretend that you have no feelings for him, but I know the truth. Why can’t you just let him in?”

“I did that twice Nex! I let him in three years ago and he fucked me literally and broke my heart. Then three years later I did it again against my better judgment, against every single alarm inside my head. I did it and surprise, fucking surprise he fucked me again. I am done Nex, I am so fucking done!”

“Both times you made the same fucking mistake. Both times you bit your tongue, you cut yourself off, you distanced yourself, you pulled a Heisman. Both times you were never all in,” Nexus accused.

“For good fucking reason. Why would I be all in with a man who has shown me time and time again why he’s not trustworthy, who shows me how different we are, who shows me why I have these defenses why my freedom is the most paramount thing in the world?!”

“Just say you’re scared and get it over with. You’re scared you’re so in love with him that he can do no wrong and have you fall out of love with him. Hell, you’ve been in love with him for three fucking years and still, you love him. he fucked you over again and you still love him.”

“And I hate him for it!”

Silence filled the room. There is was.

“Vix, there is a thin line between love and hate. What you are forcing as hate could really be such a love that scares you.”

“Nex, I am so drained. I have never been more drained in my life and that includes being pregnant, going to culinary school, and going through labor while I finish exams. I am tired.”

“Then stop running. Yes he fucked up, twice, he should have told you, he should have never taken your choice away from you. I am not condoning it at all, but I understand.”

“Of course you do. Why am I not surprised. You always understand everything he does.”

“Because I choose to. You choose to shut it down, lock it away and never address it. You choose to hope it goes away, but Vix it won’t go away. It’s like a scab, it will keep itching and crusting unless you treat it. Face your fears baby sister, face them and grab them by the horns and take your happiness, take your life back. This isn’t living.”

With your back to her, you stared out the window. You hated when she got this involved. The way you handled things it worked; it had been working. you couldn’t afford to go back to that woman from three years ago. Thankfully your phone rang distracting you from the conversation.

“Hello? Hi Charmaine. No, you’re not interrupting anything. How can I help you?”

You listened to her give you up to date information from Chris’ lawyers and every word she spoke made your heart beat faster and your mind race.

“No, I’m here. Sorry. Um—so that means what exactly?” She spoke again and when she stopped you knew you should have said something but words failed you.

“Thank you. I have to go.” You hung up and took several breaths.

“Who is that?”

“My divorce lawyer,” you informed.

“Wow, you’re serious about this shit. Unbelievable. What did she say?”

“Chris’ lawyers informed her that per Chris, he doesn’t want anything from me. Whatever I had three years ago and since he doesn’t want any of it.”

“No shit!” You looked at her, she looked impatient as if she was sick and tired of you.

“He also said that he won’t fight me for custody, he doesn’t want joint custody, he just wants access to her when he can in San Fran.”

“Again, no shit. I’ve told you that he is not like that and you know he’s not like that. You know exactly who he is and always have. You saw the real him that night in Vegas, the him that you fell for and decided to be carefree with. He’s not an asshole Vix.”

“She said that if I want half of what he has he will not contest it.”

There was silence now, both of you letting that nugget sink in. He was giving you access to everything he owned, no fight. It showed a disregard for it like none of it mattered.

“Yep.” Nexus shook her head then sighed.

“Look, Vix, you’re on the right path to being alone forever, the right path to just let the one man who actually is your equal, your potential match slip right through your hands. You are on the right path to not making sure that Ella’s relationship with him is not the best it can be, the right path of stealing such a happy family and future from her. So, if that is what you want then continue because the outcome is inevitable.”

Once she said the words she walked out leaving you standing there shaking from the impact of what she said. You were going to fall apart; it was only a matter of time. You already didn’t know if you’d made the right decision. You knew you sided with your fear instead of your heart and what made it worse was you felt completely incapable of taking a chance.

Pushing the conversation with Nex away you focused on the tasks for the evening. You walked out of your office and looked out and down to the space below. The restaurant was coming together nicely. It was T minus four days before the grand opening and you were so close to the finish line you could see it.

“Amazing isn’t it?” Beside you, Kassius looked down at the view you were looking.

“It is. I can’t believe that we’re getting so close.”

“You worked hard for this Vixen. I can’t wait for it to pay off. This place looks incredible. You are going to blow minds on Saturday.”

You smiled and felt the excitement bubbling within you. You sure hoped so. It would suck to put this much work, tears, and sweat into something and it be a horrible failure.

“Don’t worry. This is what I do for a living. I take chances but only on things I’m sure about. I’m sure about you Vixen. You’ll see.” He patted your back then walked away. You took a deep breath and tried to knock it into your head that you were going to crush the opening.

The rest of the evening you did your best to stay present and work with the crew that was left there. No job was too small for you, you chipped in and got your hands dirty. Nothing was beneath you. When you left that night you were pleasantly surprised to see that none of the paps were outside. For the first time in weeks, you took a deep breath and walked to your car. You thanked your security and drove down the near abandoned street.

While finishing your errands at the pharmacy you saw the tabloid rack and scanned the covers. At least six of them were about you and Chris. This was still a big adjustment seeing your face plastered on tabloid magazines and having people so interested in everything about you. Over the last week, you’d scanned some of the gossip sights and had read some hurtful things that people were saying but also read some kind ones. It was a toss of the dice type of situation.

One of the covers had Chris’ face on it in the center, but there were several women circling him. The white headlines were all about his history with each of them. When you read the words, your interest piqued. “Chris Evans Married but quite the impressive list of mistresses over the years.” You couldn’t believe the nerve of these gossip magazines.

“What if we were happily married and I saw this?”

You bought the magazine and made it home to find Ella asleep and dinner in the microwave. After a shower, you sat down with a bottle of wine and ate in the dim light of the kitchen. You flipped through the article and saw pictures of him with the women. They were all beautiful, all sexy and all completely different. One of the two things they looked to have in common was the color of their hair. They were all brunette or brunettes with highlights. They all were also white. You knew that you were probably the only woman of color he’d associated with but to see his entire dating history laid out for you cemented it.

For the next near hour, you sat there comparing yourself to these tall, slim, blue-eyed, actresses and models and tried not to feel any jealousy. He’d gotten around these last three years. While you were steering clear of the opposite sex, he was fucking his way through Hollywood. It made you think back to what he’d said the night at your house that he’d thought of you all these years and been in love with you. Looking at his little black book before you made you want to shout bullshit. You also tried not to be too critical on yourself for being so different from them or let your insecurities flare-up. You wondered why you and if you were some phase he had to work through.

It took you almost two hours to realize the postal envelope across the kitchen. When you took it up you saw your name on it but no sender information. When you looked inside the envelope you froze for a few moments before you emptied out its contents onto the counter. Before you were items you hadn’t seen in years, items you’d almost forgotten about. Items you’d ran out of his house without.

You slowly examined the items beginning with your golden anklet. You’d searched for it for weeks until you accepted you’d lost it somewhere in Vegas or LA. It was one of your favorite pieces of jewelry and you missed it. You then moved on to the lace bra and panties you were wearing the night you were at Chris’. You hesitated touching them, afraid somehow you’d be bombarded with memories. Finally, you took up the bra and smelled it, it still smelled like your perfume, a perfume you still wore every once in a while.

“My god.”

Your eyes landed on the golden ring on the counter. The last time you’d touched it was to slide it onto his finger. Suddenly you felt as if you’d run a marathon from your racing heart to your sweaty palms. You took up his wedding band and slowly examined it.

“He’d held on to all of this, this whole time.”

Your shock was evident. You couldn’t believe it and didn’t know why he still had any of this especially your underwear. You must have stood there staring at his ring for an hour or so. Everything from the last few months raced through your head, every conversation, every smile, touch, every quiet night together and every genuine moment. You began to wonder if he’d been truthful the whole time. Wondered if you had it in you to take that leap that was required.

Walking over to your bag, you pulled your phone free and found his contact.

MSG: 9-1-1. Cathy’s corner where we had tacos.

You shoved the items into a Ziploc bag, grabbed your bag and hurried out the door in your car without a thought to your attire. The drive was relatively quick because of the hour. The streets were mostly abandoned and the further you drove into Mulholland Drive the darker they got. When you pulled up to the spot where you sat with him a few weeks ago you stared out over the city lights. It was still a beautiful view.

After a minute you worried that it was too little too late, worried that this was too far to come back from. You’d pushed too far.

After a few more minutes, you saw bright headlights pull up the drive, then the car screeched to a halt beside yours at an angle that blocked your bumper. You watched as Chris jumped out his car wearing a men’s tank and dark sweatpants.

“What’s the matter? Is it Ella? Is she okay? Are you hurt?” His words rushed out one after the other as he approached you. Once he was before you his eyes scanned your body. You then held up the items in front of his face.

“Why did you hold on to these?”

Chris’ expression changed from worry to confusion, then annoyance. “Vixen, are you kidding me? You text me 911. I'm running red lights, switching lanes, honking like a mad man thinking something was seriously wrong with you or Ella. You can't text 911 if it's not 911!”

He sounded exasperated as he rubbed his forehead. Ignoring his rant you asked again.

“Why did you hold on to these? You could have thrown them out.”

“I should have,” Chris dryly responded with little emotion on his face.

“Yeah. So?” Chris didn’t speak for a few seconds. He then rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head.

“I couldn't. I--I--,” he stuttered before he let out a loud groan while he ruffled his unkempt hair. With a grunt, he walked away from you before turning back to you once there was space between you.

“What are we doing here? What do you want?”

��Tell me why you couldn't,” you countered.

“No. You tell me why I'm here. I've said everything I need to say. What do you want?”

“Everything. It's my one fatal flaw. I want it all. I want the incredibly successful, fulfilling career that everyone envies, and I want the perfect, loving, sexy, guy who is head over heels in love with me and will give me everything I want. I want him to love me completely. I want him to never leave and have me be his only dream. I want my amazing little girl who is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want to keep her happy and help her grow to be the best version of herself. I want happiness, peace, and joy. I want everything!”

Chris scoffed and shook his head looking at you as if this was no surprise. “No surprise there. What does that have to do with me?”

“My career is getting there. I am so close to getting what I want, so close to fulfilling my dreams there. My little girl is amazing, she was born amazing and she is happy and growing; or she was happy until she didn't get to see her daddy as much as she had been lately. Ironically, a daddy she'd lived without for years and now can't seem to forget him after only a few short months. She loves you so much and it makes my heart so full and warm. I want her to be happy again and the only way that can happen is if I find a way to be strong enough, a way to be brave to stand here and tell you that I've never felt nothing for you.”

Your heart was racing a mile a minute and the fear you felt was real, but you also knew you couldn’t just stop there. Chris didn’t move, and his face gave nothing away. He was unreadable, you hated it. Guess it was your turn to suffer with it now.

“Since we met even though I heavily drank and got drunker and drunker I felt things for you I'd never felt before. I was able to talk to you and open up to you in a way I only do with Nex. It was insane what we did getting married like that, but I know without a doubt I wanted it. That night at your house you hurt me but only because I thought we were on the same page I thought you felt what I did, and it turned out you didn't. Boston--of course it meant something,” you confessed. That was when Chris’ face glitched with emotion.

“What?”

It was do or die time, you thought.

“I haven't been with anyone since you. No dates, no kissing, well except Zack but that meant nothing. There has been no one. I haven't let there be anyone and I tricked myself into believing it was because I didn't have the time or the energy but I didn't want to invest again or get my hopes up only to get hurt and the truth was I never got over you. I never fell out of love with you.”

The way he stared at you was only making your heart pound harder and the butterflies flit through your stomach more. He still stood there not moving, not encouraging or discouraging your newfound candidness. Turning away you walked to your car and dug into your purse for the desired item then walked back to him. You held up the papers so he could see.

“Thought you were going to file those. I signed them over a week ago.”

“You did,” you answered before you ripped them once, then twice. You attempted a third, but it was tough. A small smile spread across his face before he walked closer to you. Still, he didn’t touch you.

“Your mother said something to me in Boston, she said, "fate only brings us what is meant and letting something go and it coming back should not be let go again especially if it's what you want."

He nodded his head as if he agreed. “Sounds like my mom.”

“Smart woman. Fate brought you to me in Vegas, you let me go, fate said no and gave me Ella, then fate brought me to you, and I've tried to let go. I can't. I have to stop running.” Saying those words felt surreal. All the self-help books said acceptance was the first step then admittance, you just did both in the same breath.

“Are you saying we're meant to be?” The curiosity and amusement on his face weren’t missed. You were relieved, you thought he’d be angry to see you after what you’d said.

“Do you think we are?”

Chris gazed deeply into your eyes and closed the remaining space between you, but still, he didn’t touch you. You wanted him to, but you’d wait.

“You're the only one meant for me. I love you Vixen, I always have, I always will.” Chris softly trailed the back of his hand across your cheek caressing it. A smile spread over your face as joy filled you. Chris looked scared, worried even.

“I love you too, Chris. I always have and apparently no matter what idiotic plan you concoct, I always will.”

The two of you smiled the goofiest smiles ever then pressed your lips together in a sweet kiss. A kiss that increased in passion as the seconds ticked by. Before either of you got carried away, Chris pulled back and stared at you with a serious look on his face.

“So no divorce?”

“Nope. I’m so sorry. I ruined everything and hurt you. I hate that I hurt you, I hate that I said those things to you. My god Chris, I’m so sorry.”

Chris didn’t speak, instead, he took the ripped papers that you still held and ripped them three more times before he flung them in the air. At that moment, the breeze picked up and blew them away scattering them around. The two of you stood there watching them drift in the night sky with sentimental smiles on your faces.

“Matter of fact,” Chris began. When you looked to him you were in time to see him drop down onto one knee. That was all it took for the tears to well in your eyes. Chris held onto your hands as he stared at you. You could see everything in his eyes and for the first time, you didn’t doubt any of what you saw.

“Vixen Star Giovanni-Evans, the last time I did this I was drunk off my ass but even drunk me knew without a doubt that you were something to hold on to. The last three years have not been easy, and they have been quite unconventional. We've both grown so much and accomplished so much. I can say that I am a better man because of meeting you three years ago. I am a better man today. A man that is not only ready but begging for a second chance; a chance to love you properly; a chance to build a life with you, grow even more with you; a chance to be the man that loves you unconditionally; a chance to be the husband I've always envisioned myself, the father I've wanted to be. Will you spend the rest of your life with me, will you allow me to stand by your side and take care of you and show you every single day just what you mean to me? Will you be the mother of my six kids? Will you marry me—again--but for the last time.”

You laugh throwing your head back and rejoicing in the feel of happiness, a happiness that you hadn’t felt in so long. You pulled him up to stand before you then pressed your forehead on his chest. You allowed your tears to fall freely unabashedly.

“Are you sure?”

Chris swiped the pad of his thumbs across your cheeks drying the tears as they fell. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life as I am sure that I want to be married to you until the day I die.”

“Goddamn!”

“Yes, but we may have to revisit six kids.”

Chris smiled widely and shook his head dismissing the notion.

“Nope. Six. One down, five to go.”

Your laugh was loud, and you didn’t care. You kissed him again and again and again hoping that this was the beginning of making up for the time you’d been apart and the beginning of building a beautiful life together.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

TagList:

@airis-paris14 @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandas-vibranium @wakanda-inspired @theunsweetenedtruth @ashanti-notthesinger @reignsxjackson @halfrican-heat @ambthegamer @simplyyamberr @muse-of-mbaku @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @blowmymbackout @purplehairgawdess @thehuntoyobun @wakandamama @wakandawinning @profilia @zxddy-panther @h-challa @babygirlofwakanda @misswakanda2018 @ororowrites@hutchj @myfavemarvelfanfics @lavitabella87 @afraiddreamingandloving @autumn242 @purple-apricots @skysynclair19 @hersheyskissesss-blog @blue-ishx @90sinspiredgirl @tchallaswife @tchallamakesmeh0lla @turn-thy-paige @blackchickfics @blackpantherismyish @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @naturally-bri @flawlesslybeautiful14 @qweentbh@lunaerly @theoutereffect@twilight-sapphire-lover @pupyluv247 @stark-red19 @cockyboysandsugarism@maverickabull @madbadsiren @aykanna @myaw731 @ruruly20 @mixedmelanin @brittyevans @bezzywazhere@laketaj24 @soulsparker @theresnomoregoodones @syreanne@loveandcigarillos @heyauntieeee @heybriheyyy @wakanda-bcth @uhlxis @maliadestiny @dadinhas-heat @yaachtynoboat711 @geeksareunique @bultalongthewayside @ajspencer1892 @captiansaveasmut @imaginewhoever @terrablaze514 @starsshines-blog @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @darkandlovely94 @sithlordslut @wavyyc @naturalistamisslyn @nigarachi15 @madamslayyy @blackandfair @kreolemami @mylastnameisthe-fish @kaykay0829@chaneajoyyy @tequilajay27 @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @slimmiyagi @im5ftbutmythroat66 @jaeee-http@madhatterhelsing @sunflowerpsalms @wakanda-shit-is-that @deliciousstreetkidcroissant @jecourt @vebner37 @disneysdarlingdiva @melaninmarvel @alanastormborn@dolphinpink310 @yourwonderbelle @ohleucothea @queentearra @bitchbetterhavemydinner @fentybabyy @kaykay4454fan @priya212 @kitkit1690 @chrismarcs @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @blackpantherimagines @ovohanna24 @sweetpeachjones @kslo000 @nubian-queen18 @omgsuperstarg @airis-paris14 @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @drsunshine97 @blue-ishx @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @prettyprincessushio @treeondrea @ursapharoh05 @blackpinup22 @kaytauru @big3gocandykahn @kissingpineapples @wildaboutchrisevans @fitfineandstayingalive @misspooh @michele-onel @gorjiss @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @muva-milaje @limbo-limbo-limbo @awkwardlyabstract @blxck-brxndie @meeky-imagines @inlovewith3 @metalarmlover @mellowjellow6 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @ursapharoh05 @treeondrea @ovohanna24 @marvelheaux @romanceoftheeveryday @mufasathatniggatho @cltex84 @sweetbearcolorgarden @msincognito67 @mosagram @lunaerly @mar-ta-3 @ljstraightnochaser @lewatigress @akimi-youngblood @bekahdean87 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @cocooned-butterfly @emoniclark22 @chereedrop619 @theblulife @niggarachi15 @drsunshine97 @msincognito67 @missdeerstalker15 @wakandamama @avenger-marvel-fan @arieljamiyla @vibranium-soul @monae-boss @queenxchallaxkillamonger@amirra88 @jaeee-http @omg-itsnadi @fonville-designs @sydneebleu @cherrystainedlipsbaby @behindthesehazeleyes27 @areubeingserved @kelbabyblue @academic-glowup @patzammit @yourwonderbelle @pennywisesmistress @squeackygee @noramushrooms @titty-teetee @ab-baybay @kreolemami @impossiblegiantrebelbasketball @dangerouslovefanfic @heladoom @renesmeeharelds @zaddysqueen7 @alyxkbrl @hello-therree @taylorveebee @a-dizzle777 @deidrashouseofpain @coldmuffinbanditshoe @evemej @chaselovinggert @ben-wyxtt @designerwriterchic @chrisgalore @jennmurawski13 @rynabarnesrogers @yunggyeezyy @kemkem101 @dearkyrainez @minton131@momobaby227 @jesseswartzwelder @briellableu @browneyes9125 @mjey12 @magdelen69 @hannahholland1811 @lo-cheu @cocooned-butterfly @firstangeldragonranch @jovanaprime @kemkem101 @gladiatrix14 @soapjay @nico-diangelo-grey

#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans smut #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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1 - What's your favourite TV show that was released before you were born? What is it that got you into that show in the first place? I have a few, such as I Love Lucy, The Dick Van Dyke Show, The Golden Girls, and Roseanne. Most I got into with my grandmothers, but I’m honestly not sure how I started watching Roseanne.

2 - What is your preferred brand and flavour of ice-cream? Strawberry, mint chocolate chip, cookies and cream, and birthday cake.

3 - When's the last time you got something in your eye? Earlier I had an eyelash stuck in there.

4 - When was the last time someone got you flowers and what was the occasion? For my birthday a few yeas ago.

5 - What are your plans for tomorrow? Are these normal for that particular day of the week or are you doing something out of the ordinary? Same stuff as always, which yes is normal for that day and everyday.

6 - What will you be eating for your next meal? I’m not sure yet.

7 - Who was the last person to pay you a compliment? How did you come to know that person? It was my aunt.

8 - When is the last time the weather changed your plans? What were your plans and what did you end up doing instead? I don’t recall to be honest.

9 - What's your favourite kind of liquor? Do you prefer it "plain", flavoured or in a mixer? I don’t drink.

10 - Who was the last person you spoke to via video call? Did you speak to this person via video before the pandemic hit? My doctor for my appointment last month. No, that was the first time we did a Zoom appointment.

11 - Are you someone who prefers routine or spontaneity? My days are very routine.

12 - What streaming services (if any) are you subscribed to? Do you think they're good value for money? Several. We have Netflix, Hulu, Disney+, AppleTV+, HBO Max, Paramount+, and Amazon Prime.

13 - When was the last time you struggled to get to sleep? What did you do to help things? Every night for over a year now. I have my nightly routine I do until I eventually fall asleep.

14 - How often do you get your five a day? What was the last fruit or veggie that you ate? I never do. I may get some spinach, green onions, or potatoes in now and then, but it’s not a regular thing and certainly not the recommended amount. I haven’t had fruit in years... :X

15 - How do you take your coffee? With flavored creamer or cream (half and half) and sugar.

16 - Is there anything that you're currently putting off? When do you think you'll finally get round to doing it? I’ve put off a lot of things for years and it’s not good. I don’t know when or if I’ll get to them. :/

17 - When was the last time you watched a Disney film? Which one was it and is it one of your favourites? I think it was Soul. It was good, but I wouldn’t call it a favorite.

18 - What was the last household chore you completed? Is this something you do regularly? Put the silverware and some of the stuff that goes in places I can reach away from the dishwasher. I do it somewhat regularly. Usually, someone else just does it.

19 - Who were you with the last time you went out for a meal? My mom and brother back before the pandemic hit.

20 - Have you had your COVID vaccine yet? If not, are you going to accept it when you're offered? No. I haven’t decided what I will do yet.

21 - Do you have any pets and how many? If not, would you like to have one someday? Yeah, I have a doggo.

22 - What's the most unusual meat you've ever eaten? Did you like it? I haven’t had anything unusual. I’m super picky and particular and not adventurous at all when it comes to my food (or anything).

23 - Do you prefer still or sparkling water and why? Still. I don’t like the taste of sparkling water.

24 - Do you own a car? If so, could you live your current lifestyle without one? If you don't have one, would having one change your life in any way? No, cause I don’t drive so I don’t have a need for a car.

25 - Who was the last person you made plans with and what are you going to do? I haven’t made plans in a long time.

26 - What's the worst kind of physical pain you've ever experienced? Is this a one-off or is it something you experience regularly? The pain after all my surgeries, for sure. The recovery for them was rough.

27 - What's your favourite length for a survey to be? Do you get put off if surveys are longer or shorter than you like? I like them to be at least 20 questions, but preferably more. Like this length is good. I could go for longer, though. If it’s less than 20 than I very rarely bother.

28 - What colours are you wearing at the moment? Are any of those colours your favourite? Black, red, and gray. I like ‘em all.

29 - Once you've found a TV show you like, do you tend to watch it over and over again? What was the last TV programme you watched for the second for third time? Not necessarily, but there are several shows I do that with. The last one I did that with was Wandavision. But there’s also shows I watch that come on TV everyday at certain times such as The Golden Girls, Roseanne, King of Queens, and Reba that I kinda just have on in the background or depending on the time are on as I’m falling asleep. Like right now it’s 5:45AM and The Golden Girls are on in the background as I’m doing this and listening to an ASMR video with headphones.

30 - When was the last time you cried and what was the reason for it? Do you feel better now? Last night because I was in a shit mood and meh.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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alyssamskii · 5 years ago

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Breaking the Ice

Platonic Prinxiety (just your traditional “enemies to best friends” trope)

Warnings: None

Word count :1737 words

Summary: Figure skater/hockey player AU; Roman is a star hockey player and Virgil is a talented figure skater. They have always had this turmoil between them, but can that all change?

A/N: Ok so I had to write a creative writing piece for my first english paper. I saw this as a challenge to write my first fanfic. It is also kind of super descriptive because my professor said to keep the dialogue to a minimum, so I am sorry about that. I accept constructive criticism, so please dm me or comment anything if you want to!

Virgil Sanders opened the front door to be greeted by the brisk morning air. The start of a new season was ready to be tackled with no limitations holding him back. He was five foot nine with a raggedy purple fringe and deep brown eyes with black eyeliner smudged underneath. The teen hurried down the driveway with autumn leaves crunching beneath every step his black Converse took. He excitedly threw his purple backpack, covered in pins and patches, into the back seat of his black Jeep Wrangler. After rolling his windows down and plugging in his phone to play some Mayday Parade, Virgil sped off to the rink for practice.

Immediately upon opening the metal double doors, Virgil was hit softly by a rush of cool air. Walking into the warm room of the rink to be greeted by familiar smiles and friendly faces was already making his day. He eagerly unzipped his bag and pulled out his pitch black skates with a new set of sharp purple Paramount blades attached. In the background, conversations between the other skaters could be heard, but he wasn’t paying attention enough to decipher them. The loud music playing in his single earbud was enough to take him away from the world, even if it were only for a moment. All he wanted was to hear his deep edges rip into the freshly cut ice as he shifted his weight from the inside and outside of his blade. Before that, Virgil would appreciate the smooth glide that he could flawlessly hold on the bright, pristine ice prior to the hockey teams that would soon come to dig and chop it up. He had nothing against the local hockey teams, but the disrespect they showed towards the rink staff, figure skaters, and even the ice itself was maddening. The holes they left were almost the sizes of baseballs, the ridges they cut so deep that simply gliding over them could no longer be an option, and the constant mouth guards left along the boards, still dripping soggily with warm saliva. The thought of the latter making him shudder with complete disgust.

Even with the cool chill radiating from the ice’s surface, Virgil was still fairly warm. Being a figure skater, you become almost immune to the cold and learn to never forget a jacket. The boy had forgotten only once and now arrives prepared wearing his trademark hoodie every practice, his favorite article of clothing in his closet. It was a black zip-up hoodie covered in purple and black plaid patches. The patches were scattered among the hoodie, lazily stitched on with white thread and on the front was his club’s logo, a storm cloud, embroidered with purple thread.

Eventually, the teen stopped by the boards to take a break, but that was when he felt eyes on him. He knew he wasn’t the only skater on that session, but the piercing stare he could feel, even with his back turned, was too much to let go. Virgil whipped around, stumbling over his skates as an old friend startled him. He didn’t even know if he could call Roman a friend because Roman Prince wasn’t a figure skater, he played center forward for the Sudro City Knights. The teen stood tall at six foot one and had neatly groomed mocha locks, his light brown eyes staring down the anxious boy. The cheap, damaged practice jersey he was wearing reeked of pure body odor from the weeks of wear without wash. After the couple seconds, which seemed like forever for poor Virgil, the taller boy leaned in close with a smug look plastered on his face.

“Hiya Dr Doom and Gloom.” Roman teased, leaning his stick up against the glass and sitting back onto the benches. “What is the purple ballerina going to dance to this year? Hopefully another song from Beetlejuice the Musical! I do enjoy you looking even more edgy than usual.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, clearly not amused. “Oh, what a laugh Princey. Ya know, I would love to really see you try what I do.” The purple clad boy stated, folding his arms and leaning his chest against the boards. “I don’t even think you’re coordinated enough to do a two foot spin.” The stunned and anger-filled look that washed over Roman’s features gave him the exact answer he needed.

“Alright, that’s it mister Jack Smellington!” Roman rapidly stood up, grabbing his stick and towering over the smaller teen. “Meet me back here after hours and we’ll really see who the best is!”

“I’ll be back don’t you worry. As long as you don’t pull a Tonya Harding on me, I’ll be glad to show you how to really skate!” Virgil grabbed his now empty water bottle from the boards and skated away, shooting the star player a shit-eating grin. By the time he got off the ice and closed the heavy door behind him, the scratches of the rest of the team could be heard as they jumped the boards for practice. He quickly unlaced his skates, swiping the snow off of his blades and wiping off the excess water droplets with his old, black rag.

The skates were packed away as he walked out of those same metal double doors and climbed into his car. Before pulling away, Virgil checked his phone to see an unusual text: I’ll pick you up for our little match up later. You’re on my way to the rink, so be ready by 7 or I’m leaving without you. Shocked by the text, he closed his phone, rolling his windows down again and proceeding to play the rest of his Mayday Parade playlist on his drive home.

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

As Virgil was waiting for Roman to pull up, he pulled out his phone to play Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional while he scrolled through Tumblr. Right when he opened the app, the hockey player in his beat-up silver Chevy Cruze, blasting Brave New Girl by Britney Spears, rolled up into his driveway. Roman screamed before Virgil could even close his front door, “Get in loser, we’re going to the rink!”

Virgil threw his backpack into the back seat and hesitantly hopped into the car. Although Roman played hockey, his car was fairly clean and his front seat had a very distinct smell compared to the back, where their skates were lazily thrown. The front of the car had a small hint of vanilla while the back seat had a scent of exactly what you can imagine, pure body odor from his balled-up practice jersey. The short drive to the rink felt like ages passed as the boy silently watched the scenery unfold outside of his window, laying his face in the palm of his hand. Upon stopping at a red light, he was startled out of his awkward, yet serene state he was in from a light nudge at his ribs. He looked over to find Roman kindly smiling at him, which was very unusual between the two.

“Are you okay, Hot Topic? You’ve been pretty quiet the whole ride.” Virgil was stunned by the sudden change in Roman’s attitude. He was just insulting him early that same day. “I know we fight and all, but the least you can do is keep me a little company.” The smaller teen almost frowned, feeling a little bad for his actions. Maybe he genuinely wanted to change?

He forced a small smile onto his normally brooding face, although the other could not see this with his attention on the road. “Yea I’m ok, don’t worry about it.”

Upon arrival, they both grabbed their bags and walked into the rink, smiling at each other. Roman was wearing a white hoodie with a knight on it, his mascot, and black Adidas sweatpants with three white stripes straight down the sides. Virgil matched Roman, except he was wearing his traditional black and purple patchwork zip-up. They stepped onto the ice and without a word Virgil set himself to work. He started at one end, gliding and connecting with the ice. With every bracket, twizzle, and step he took throughout his footwork, he let the ice take control. Each edge was deep, delicately ripping into the ice and sending him closer to the opposing side. Right before reaching the boards, he pushed into an outside mohawk, gaining speed as every crossover sounded through the rink. Roman was still standing at the door, astonished by the normally quiet and anxious boy. Lastly, Virgil was set, gliding on his back outside edge, and leaped into an axel, landing the one and a half revolution jump in a solid landing position. The teen flawlessly turned forward and slid into a sharp hockey stop, hitting Roman with a spray of cool snow. “So, can you top that Dr Do-The-Most?” Virgil looked up at him with a playful gleam in his eyes despite the antagonizing smirk that plagued his features. The taller teen was still in shock, but he eventually snapped out of it and smiled at the other.

“Now I see why you always made comments about out skating me. You truly are amazing Virgil!” The smirk never left the other’s face, the satisfaction from the statement only making it grow.

“You could always quit hockey. I know you may not want to and this is a bit of a stretch, but at least take this into consideration” Roman’s attention was gripped by the bold statement the smaller boy just made. “You’re pretty strong and you already know the basics of skating. You would make a great pair skater with some practice.” Virgil’s anxiety peaked and the other could tell. Now, he was not opposed to skating with Virgil, but hockey was his life. After a minute or two of silence, the taller teen lightly gripped the anxious boy’s shoulder, forcing his eyes off of the ice and into Roman’s. A steady gaze connected the two alone on the ice.

“Would you be my partner if I quit hockey?” Virgil was in complete shock, leading him to just rapidly nod his head and immediately wrap his arms around Roman, closing the gap between them. Their shared warmth made the cool air seem almost nonexistent.

He took back his statement from earlier about the taller boy. After years of fighting through high school, Virgil Sanders realized he definitely could call Roman Prince a friend.

#the sanders sides #sanders sides #ts roman #ts virgil #roman #virgil #prinxiety #figure skating #hockey #tss #tssides #ts sides #sanders sides au #fanfic #fanfiction

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